The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart

The Mexicans, reckoning the peons and guides, in whom they scarcely dared to trust, amounted to only seventeen, men and women included.

The pirates were at least thirty.

The numerical disproportion was then great between the besiegers and the besieged; but thanks to the strong position of the camp, situated on the summit of a chaos of rocks, this disproportion partly disappeared, and the forces were nearly equal.

Captain Waktehno had not for an instant deceived himself with regard to the difficulties of the attack he meditated – difficulties almost insurmountable in an open assault; therefore he had depended upon a surprise, and more particularly upon the treachery of the Babbler. It was only from having been carried away by circumstances, and being furious at the loss Captain Aguilar had caused him, that he had ventured upon an assault.

But the first moment of effervescence over, when he saw his men falling around him like ripe fruit, unrevenged, and without gaining an inch of ground, he resolved not to retreat, but to change the siege into a blockade, hoping to be more fortunate during the night by some bold coup de main, or, in the end, certain of reducing the besieged sooner or later by famine.

He believed himself certain that they would find it impossible to obtain succour in the prairies, where there were none but Indians, hostile to the whites, whoever they might be, or trappers and hunters, who cared very little to intermeddle in affairs that did not at all concern them.

His resolution once taken, the captain put it in execution immediately.

He cast an anxious look around him; his situation was still the same; notwithstanding their almost superhuman efforts to climb the abrupt ascent which led to the entrenchments, the pirates had not gained a single step. The moment a man showed himself openly, a ball from a Mexican carbine sent him rolling down the precipice.

The captain gave the signal for retreat; that is to say, he imitated the cry of the prairie dogs.

The combat ceased instantly.

The spot, which an instant before was animated by the cries of combatants and the continued report of firearms, sank suddenly into the completest silence.

Only, as soon as the men had paused in their work of destruction, the condors, the vultures, and urubus commenced theirs.

After pirates, birds of prey! that is according to the order of things.

Swarms of condors, vultures, and urubus came hovering over the dead bodies, upon which they fell uttering sharp cries, and made a horrible carnage of human flesh, in sight of the Mexicans, who did not dare to leave their entrenchments, and were forced to remain spectators of this hideous banquet of the wild creatures.

The pirates rallied in a ravine, out of reach of the fire, and counted their numbers.

Their losses were enormous; out of forty, nineteen only remained.

In less than an hour they had had twenty-one killed, more than half of their whole band.

The Mexicans, with the exception of Captain Aguilar, had neither killed nor wounded.

The loss the pirates had sustained made them reflect seriously upon the affair.

The greater number were of opinion it would be best to retire, and give up an expedition which presented so many dangers and so few hopes of success.

The captain was even more discouraged than his companions.

Certes, if it had only been to gain gold or diamonds, he would, without hesitation, have resigned his projects; but a feeling more strong than the desire of wealth influenced his actions, and excited him to carry the adventure through, whatever might be the consequences to him.

The treasure he coveted – a treasure of incalculable price – was Doña Luz, the girl whom he had, in Mexico, rescued from the hands of his own bandits, and for whom he entertained a violent, boundless, characteristic passion.

From Mexico he had followed her step by step, watching, like a wild beast, for an opportunity of carrying off his prey, for the possession of which no sacrifice was too great, no difficulty insuperable, and no danger worthy of consideration.

Therefore did he bring into play upon his bandits all the resources that speech gives to a man influenced by passion, to keep them with him, to raise their courage, and to induce them to attempt one more attack before retiring and definitely renouncing the expedition.

He had much trouble in persuading them; as generally happens in such cases, the bravest had been killed, and the survivors did not feel themselves at all inclined to expose themselves to a similar fate. By dint, however, of persuasions and menaces, the captain succeeded in getting from the bandits the promise of remaining till the next day, and of attempting a decisive blow during the night.

This being agreed upon between the pirates and their chief, Waktehno ordered his men to conceal themselves as well as they could, but, above all, not to stir without his orders, whatever they might see the Mexicans do.

The captain hoped, by remaining invisible, to persuade the besieged that, discouraged by the enormous difficulties they had met with, the pirates had resolved to retreat, and had, in fact, done so.

This plan was not at all unskilful, and it, in fact, produced almost all the results which its author expected.

The glowing fires of the setting sun gilded with their last rays the summits of the rocks and the trees; the evening breeze, which was rising, refreshed the air; the great luminary was about to disappear on the horizon, in a bed of purple vapours.

Silence was only disturbed by the deafening cries of the birds of prey, that continued their cannibal banquet, quarrelling with ferocious inveteracy over the fragments of flesh which they tore from the dead bodies.

The general, with a heart deeply moved by this spectacle, when he reflected that Captain Aguilar, a man whose heroic devotion had saved them all, was exposed to this horrible profanation, resolved not to abandon his body, and, cost what it might, to go and bring it in, in order to give it sepulture, – a last homage due to the young man who had not hesitated to sacrifice himself for him.

Doña Luz, to whom he communicated his intention, although perfectly sensible of the danger, had not the heart to oppose it.

The general selected four resolute men, and scaling the entrenchments, he advanced at their head towards the spot where the body of the unfortunate captain lay.

The lanceros left in the camp kept a watchful eye upon the plain, ready to protect their bold companions with energy, if they were interrupted in their pious task.

The pirates concealed in the clefts of the rocks did not lose one of their movements, but were most careful not to betray their presence.

The general was able, therefore, to accomplish unmolested the duty he had imposed upon himself.

He had no difficulty in finding the body of the young man.

He lay half prostrate at the foot of a tree, holding a pistol in one hand and his machete in the other, his head elevated, his look fixed, and a smile upon his lips, as if even after death he still defied those who had killed him.

His body was literally covered with wounds; but, by a strange chance, which the general remarked with joy, up to that moment the birds of prey had respected it.

The lanceros placed the body upon their crossed guns, and returned to the camp at quick march.

The general followed at a short distance from them, observing and watching every bush and thicket.

But nothing stirred; the greatest tranquillity prevailed everywhere; the pirates had disappeared, without leaving any other traces but their dead, whom they appeared to have abandoned.

The general began to hope that his enemies were really gone, and he breathed a sigh, as if relieved from an oppression of the heart.

Night came on with its habitual rapidity; all eyes were fixed upon the lanceros, who bore back their dead officer, but no one remarked a score of phantoms who glided silently over the rocks, drawing, by degrees, nearer to the camp, close to which they concealed themselves, keeping their ferocious looks fixed upon its defenders.

The general caused the body to be placed upon a bed prepared in haste, and taking a spade, he insisted upon himself digging the grave in which the young man was to be deposited. All the lanceros ranged themselves around him, leaning on their arms. The general took off his hat, and from a prayer book read with a loud voice the Service of the Dead, to which his niece and all present responded.

There was something grand and impressive in this simple ceremony, in the midst of the desert, whose thousand mysterious voices appeared likewise to modulate a prayer, in face of that sublime nature upon which the finger of God is traced in so visible a manner.

This white-headed old man, piously reading the office of the dead over the body of a young man, little more than a boy, full of life but a few hours before, having around him that young girl, and these sad, pensive soldiers, whom the same fate, perhaps, threatened soon to overtake, but who, calm and resigned, prayed with fervour for him who was no more; this noble prayer, rising in the night, accompanied by the moanings and the breezes of evening, which passed quivering through the branches of the trees, recalled the early times of Christianity, when, persecuted and forced to hide itself, it took refuge in the desert, to be nearer to God.

Nothing occurred to disturb the accomplishment of this last duty.

After every person present had once again taken a melancholy farewell of the dead, he was lowered into the grave, enveloped in his cloak; his arms were placed by his side, and the grave was filled up.

A slight elevation of the sod, which would soon disappear, alone marked the place where reposed for ever the body of a man whose unfamed heroism had saved by a sublime devotedness those who had confided to him the care of their safety.

The mourners separated, swearing to avenge the dead, or that failing, to do as he had done.

Darkness was now spread over all.

The general, after having made a last round, to satisfy himself that the sentinels were steady at their posts, wished his niece a good night, and laid himself down across the entrance of her tent, on the outside.

Three hours passed away in perfect quiet.

All at once, like a legion of demons, a score of men silently scaled the entrenchments, and before the sentinels, surprised by this sudden attack, could attempt the least resistance, they were seized and slaughtered.

The camp of the Mexicans was invaded by the pirates, and in their train entered murder and pillage!

CHAPTER VII.

THE BATTLE

The pirates bounded into the camp like jackals, howling and brandishing their weapons.

As soon as the camp was invaded, the captain left his people to pillage and kill at their pleasure. Without concerning himself any more about them, he rushed towards the tent.

But there his passage was barred. The general had rallied seven or eight men round him, and awaited the bandit firmly, resolved to die rather than allow one of those wretches to touch his niece.

At the sight of the old soldier, with his flashing eye, his pistol in one hand and his sword in the other, the captain paused.

But this pause did not last longer than a flash of lightning; he got together a half-score of pirates by a shout for help.

"Give way!" he said, brandishing his machete.

"Come on!" the general said, biting his moustache with fury.

The two men rushed upon each other, their people imitated them, and the mêlée became general.

Then followed a terrible and merciless struggle between men who, on both sides, knew they had no pity to expect.

Everyone endeavoured to make his blows mortal, without taking the trouble to parry those dealt upon himself, satisfied with falling, provided that in his fall he could drag down his adversary.

The wounded endeavoured to rise, for the purpose of burying their poniards in the bodies of those who were fighting around them.

This fierce contest could not last long; all the lanceros were massacred; the general fell in his turn, struck down by the captain, who threw himself upon him and bound him tightly with his belt, in order to prevent the possibility of his resisting any further.

The general had only received slight wounds, which had scarcely penetrated to the flesh; for the captain, for reasons best known to himself, had carefully protected him during the combat, parrying with his machete the blows which the bandits tried to inflict upon him.

He wished to take his enemy alive, and he had succeeded.

All the Mexicans had fallen, it is true, but the victory had cost the pirates dear; more than half of them were killed.

The general's Negro, armed with an enormous club, which he had made of the trunk of a young tree, for a long time resisted all who attempted to take him, crushing without mercy all who imprudently came within reach of the weapon which he handled with such uncommon dexterity.

His enemies at length succeeded in lassoing him, and casting him half-strangled to the ground; the captain, however, came to his rescue at the moment when a pirate was raising his arm to put an end to him.

As soon as the captain found the general incapable of moving, he uttered a cry of joy, and without stopping to stanch the blood of two wounds he had received he bounded like a tiger over the body of his enemy, who was writhing powerless at his feet, and penetrated into the tent.

It was empty!

Doña Luz had disappeared.

The captain was thunderstruck!

What could have become of the girl?

The tent was small, almost void of furniture, it was impossible she could be concealed in it.

A disordered bed proved that at the moment of the surprise, Doña Luz had been sleeping peaceably.

She had vanished like a sylph, without leaving any trace of her flight.

A flight perfectly incomprehensible to the pirate, as the camp had been invaded on all sides at once.

How was it possible for a young girl, awakened suddenly, to have had courage and presence of mind enough to fly so quickly, and pass unperceived amidst conquerors whose first care had been to guard all the issues?

The captain sought in vain the solution of this enigma. He stamped with anger, and plunged his poniard into the packages that might serve as temporary places of refuge for the fugitive; but all without success.

Convinced at length that all his researches in the tent were in vain, he rushed out, prowling about like a wild beast, persuaded that if by a miracle she had succeeded in escaping, alone in the night, half dressed, wandering in the desert, he should easily find her again.

In the meantime, the pillage went on with a celerity and an order in its disorder, which did honour to the practical knowledge of the pirates.

The conquerors, fatigued with killing and robbing, plunged their poniards into the skins filled with mezcal, and an orgie soon succeeded theft and murder.

All at once a loud and fierce cry resounded at a little distance, and a shower of bullets came pattering full upon the bandits.

Surprised in their turn, they flew to their arms, and endeavoured to rally.

At the same instant, a mass of Indians appeared, bounding like jaguars among the packages, closely followed by a troop of hunters, at the head of whom were Loyal Heart, Belhumeur, and Black Elk.

The position became critical for the pirates.

The captain, recalled to himself by the peril his people ran, left with regret the fruitless search he was engaged in, and grouping his men around him, he carried off the only two prisoners he had made, that is to say, the general and his black servant, and taking skilful advantage of the tumult inseparable from an eruption like that of the allies, he ordered his men to disperse in all directions, in order to escape more easily the blows of their adversaries.

After one sharp fire, which caused a slight pause among the Indians, the pirates flew away like a cloud of unclean birds of prey, and disappeared in the darkness. But, whilst flying, the captain, left last to support the retreat, did not cease, as he glided along the rocks, still to seek, as much as was possible in the precipitation of his night, for traces of the young girl; but he could discover nothing.

The disappointed captain retired with rage in his heart, revolving in his head the most sinister projects.

Loyal Heart, warned by the Indian scout, and more particularly by the recital of the doctor, of the proposed attack upon the camp, had marched immediately, in order to bring succour to the Mexicans as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, in spite of the celerity of their march, the trappers and the Comanches arrived too late to save the caravan.

When the leaders of the expedition became assured of the flight of the pirates, Eagle Head and his warriors set off on their track.

Left master of the camp, Loyal Heart ordered a general battue in the neighbouring thickets and high grass, which the bandits had not had time to explore in detail, for they had scarcely obtained possession of the camp before they were driven out of it again.

This battue brought to light Phoebe, the young servant of Doña Luz, and two lanceros, who had taken refuge in the trunk of a tree, and who arrived more dead than alive, conducted by Black Elk and some hunters, who tried in vain to re-assure them, and revive their courage.

The poor devils still believed themselves in the hands of the pirates, and Loyal Heart had great difficulty in persuading them that the people they saw were friends who had come too late to succour them, but who would not do them any harm.

As soon as they were sufficiently restored to speak collectedly, Loyal Heart went with them into the tent, and required of them a succinct account of all that had taken place.

The young quadroon, when she saw with whom she had to do, all at once, regained her wonted assurance; and besides, haying recognized Loyal Heart, she did not require much coaxing to set her tongue going, and in a few minutes made the hunter acquainted with all the terrible events of which she had been a spectatress.

"So," he asked, "Captain Aguilar was killed, was he?"

"Alas! yes!" the young girl replied, with a sigh of regret for the poor young officer.

"And the general?" said the hunter.

"Oh! as to the general," said the girl briskly, "he defended himself like a lion, and only fell after a heroic resistance."

"Is he dead, then?" Loyal Heart asked, with great emotion.

"Oh! no!" she said almost cheerfully, "he is only wounded. I saw the bandits pass as they carried him away; I even believe that his wounds are slight, so much did the ladrones spare him during the combat."

"I am glad to hear it!" said the hunter; and he hung his head with a pensive air: then, after a pause of an instant, he added, hesitatingly, and with a slight tremor in his voice, "your young mistress, what has become of her?"

"My mistress, Doña Luz?"

"Yes, Doña Luz – for so I believe she is called; I would give much to know where she is, and to be certain she is in safety."

"She is so, since she is near you," said a harmonious voice.

And Doña, Luz appeared, still pale from the poignant emotions she had undergone, but calm; she had a smile on her lips, and her eyes sparkled brilliantly.

No one present could repress a movement of extreme surprise at the unexpected apparition of the young lady.

"Oh! God be praised!" the hunter cried; "our succour has not, then, been completely useless."

"No," replied she, kindly; but she shortly added with sadness, whilst a shade of melancholy clouded her features, "now that I have lost him who was to me as a father, I come to ask your protection, Caballero."

"It is yours, madam," he replied with warmth. "And as to your uncle, oh! depend upon me; I will restore him to you, if the enterprise costs me my life. You know," he added, "that before today I have proved my devotion to you and him."

The first emotion over, it became a question how the young girl had succeeded in escaping the researches of the pirates.

Doña Luz gave as simple an account as possible of what had passed.

The young lady had thrown herself, with all her clothes on, upon the bed; but anxiety kept her awake, a secret presentiment warned her to be on her guard.

At the cry uttered by the pirates, she started from her bed in terror and amazement, and at once perceived that flight was impossible.

Whilst casting a terrified look around her, she perceived some clothes thrown in a disorderly manner into a hammock, and hanging over the sides of it.

An idea, which appeared to come to her from Heaven, shot across her brain like a luminous flash.

She glided under these clothes, and curling herself up into as little space as possible, she crouched at the bottom of the hammock, without altering the disordered state of the things.

God had ordained it that the chief of the bandits, while searching, as he thought, everywhere, never dreamt of plunging his hand into what seemed an empty hammock.

Saved by this chance, she remained thus huddled up for full an hour, a prey to fears of the most appalling nature.

The arrival of the hunters, together with the voice of Loyal Heart, which she soon recognized, restored her to hope; she left the place of her concealment, and had impatiently waited for a favourable moment to present herself.

The hunters were wonderstruck at a recital at once so simple and so affecting; they cordially congratulated the young lady upon her courage and presence of mind, which alone had saved her.

When a little order was re-established in the camp Loyal Heart waited upon Doña Luz.

"Señora," he said, "it will not be long before day appears; when you have taken a few hours' repose, I will conduct you to my mother, who is a pious, good woman; when she knows you, I feel certain she will love you as a daughter. And then, as soon as you are in safety, I will set earnestly about restoring your uncle to you."

Without waiting for the thanks of the young lady, he bowed respectfully, and left the tent.

When he had disappeared, Doña Luz sighed, and sank pensively down upon a seat.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CAVERN OF VERDIGRIS

Ten days had passed away since the events related in our last chapter.

We will conduct the reader, between three and four o'clock in the afternoon, into the grotto discovered by Belhumeur, of which Loyal Heart had made his chosen habitation.

The interior of the cavern, lighted by numerous torches of that wood which the Indians call candlewood, which burned, fixed at distances on the projections of the rock, presented the aspect of a halt of gipsies, or of an encampment of bandits, whichever the stranger might fancy, who should chance to be admitted to visit it.

Forty trappers and Comanche warriors were dispersed about here and there; some were sleeping, others smoking, other cleaning their arms or repairing their clothes; a few, crouching before two or three fires, over which were suspended cauldrons, and where enormous joints of venison were roasting, were preparing the repast for their companions.

At each place of issue two sentinels, motionless, but with eyes and ears on the watch, silently provided for the common safety.

In a compartment separated naturally from the larger one by a block of projecting rock, two women and a man, upon seats rudely cut with the hatchet, were conversing in a low voice.

The two women were Doña Luz and the mother of Loyal Heart; the man who looked at them, while smoking his husk cigarette, and mingled occasionally in the conversation by an interjection drawn from him by surprise, admiration, or joy, was Eusebio, the old Spanish servant, of whom we have often spoken in the course of our narrative.

At the entrance of this compartment, which formed a kind of separate chamber in the cavern, another man was walking backwards and forwards, with his hands behind his back, whistling between his teeth an air which he probably composed as his thoughts dictated.

This man was Black Elk.

Loyal Heart, Eagle Head, and Belhumeur were absent.

The conversation of the two women appeared to interest them greatly. The mother of the hunter often exchanged significant looks with her old servant, who had allowed his cigarette to go out, but who kept on smoking it mechanically, without perceiving it.