The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart

Not, however, so quickly as not to allow a certain time to elapse before it united.

Loyal Heart had not hesitated. Whilst the Indians were running like demons around the barrier of flame they had just opposed to their enemies, and were uttering yells of joy, the hunter, followed by his friend, had rushed at full speed between two walls of fire, which from right and left advanced upon him, hissing, and threatening to unite at once above his head and beneath his feet. Amidst calcined trees which fell with a crash, blinded by clouds of thick smoke which stopped their respiration, burnt by showers of sparks which poured upon them from all parts, following boldly their course beneath a vault of flame, the intrepid adventurers had cleared, at the cost of a few trifling burns, the accursed enclosure in which the Indians had thought to bury them for ever, and were already far from the enemies who were congratulating themselves upon the success of their artful and barbarous plan.

The conflagration, in the meantime, assumed formidable proportions; the forest shrivelled up under the grasp of the fire; the prairie was but one sheet of flame, in the midst of which the wild animals, driven from their dens and lairs by this unexpected catastrophe, ran about, mad with terror.

The sky gleamed with blood-red reflections, and an impetuous wind swept before it both flames and smoke.

The Indians themselves were terrified at their own handiwork, on seeing around them entire mountains lighted up like baleful beacons; the earth became hot, and immense troops of buffalos made the ground tremble with their furious course, while they uttered those bellowings of despair which fill with terror the hearts of the bravest men.

In the camp of the Mexicans everything was in the greatest disorder; it was all noise and frightful confusion. The horses had broken their shackles, and fled away in all directions; the men seized their arms and ammunition; others carried the saddles and packages.

Everyone was crying, swearing, commanding – all were running about the camp as if they had been struck with madness.

The fire continued to advance majestically, swallowing up everything in its passage, preceded by a countless number of animals of all kinds, who bounded along with howls of fear, pursued by the scourge which threatened to overtake them at every step.

A thick smoke, laden with sparks, was already passing over the camp of the Mexicans; twenty minutes more and all would be over with them.

The general, pressing his niece in his arms, in vain demanded of the guides the best means of avoiding the immense peril which threatened them.

But these men, terrified by the imminence of the peril, had lost all self-possession. And then, what remedy could be employed? The flames formed an immense circle, of which the camp had become the centre.

The strong breeze, however, which up to that moment had kept alive the conflagration, by lending it wings, sank all at once.

There was not a breath of air.

The progress of the fire slackened.

Providence granted these unhappy creatures a few minutes more.

At this moment the camp presented a strange aspect.

All the men, struck with terror, had lost the sense even of self-preservation.

The lanceros confessed to each other.

The guides were plunged in gloomy despair.

The general accused Heaven of his misfortune.

As for the doctor, he only regretted the plant he could not discover; with him every other consideration yielded to that.

Doña Luz, with her hands clasped, and her knees on the ground, was praying fervently.

The fire continued to approach, with its vanguard of wild beasts.

"Oh!" cried the general, shaking the arm of the guide violently, "will you leave us to be burnt thus, without making an effort to save us?"

"What can be done against the will of God?" the Babbler replied, stoically.

"Are there no means, then, of preserving us from death?"

"None!"

"There is one!" a man cried, who, with a scorched face, and half-burnt hair, rushed into the camp, climbing over the baggage, and followed by another individual.

"Who are you?" the general exclaimed.

"That is of little consequence," the stranger replied, drily; "I come to save you! My companion and I were out of danger; to succour you we have braved unheard-of perils – that should satisfy you. Your safety is in your own hands; you have only to will it."

"Command!" the general replied, "I will be the first to give you the example of obedience."

"Have you no guides with you, then?"

"Certainly we have," said the general.

"Then they are traitors or cowards, for the means I am about to employ are known to everybody in the prairie."

The general darted a glance of mistrust at the Babbler, who had not been able to suppress an appearance of disagreeable surprise at the sudden coming of the two strangers.

"Well," said the hunter, "that is an account you can settle with them hereafter; we have something else to think of now."

The Mexicans at the sight of this determined man, with his sharp impressive language, had instinctively beheld a preserver; they felt their courage revive with hope, and held themselves ready to execute his orders with promptness.

"Be quick!" said the hunter, "and pull up all the grass that surrounds the camp."

Everyone set to work at once.

"For our part," the stranger continued, addressing the general, "we will take wetted blankets and spread them in front of the baggage."

The general, the captain, and the doctor, under the directions of the hunter, did as he desired, whilst his companion lassoed the horses and the mules, and hobbled them in the centre of the camp.

"Be quick! be quick!" the hunter cried incessantly, "the fire gains upon us!"

Everyone redoubled his exertions, and, in a short time a large space was cleared.

Doña Luz surveyed with admiration this strange man, who had suddenly appeared among them in such a providential manner, and who, amidst the horrible danger that enveloped them, was as calm and self-possessed as if he had had the power to command the awful scourge which continued to advance upon them with giant strides.

The maiden could not take her eyes off him; in spite of herself, she felt attracted towards this unknown preserver, whose voice, gestures, – his whole person, in short, interested her.

When the grass and herbs had been pulled up with that feverish rapidity which men in fear of death display in all they do, the hunter smiled calmly.

"Now," he said, addressing the Mexicans, "the rest concerns me and my friend; leave us to act as we think proper; wrap yourselves carefully in damp blankets."

Everyone followed his directions.

The stranger cast a glance around him, and then after making a sign to his friend, walked straight towards the fire.

"I shall not quit you," the general said, earnestly.

"Come on, then," the stranger replied, laconically.

When they reached the extremity of the space where the grass had been pulled up, the hunter made a heap of plants and dry wood with his feet, and scattering a little gunpowder over it, he set fire to the mass.

"What are you doing?" the general exclaimed, in amazement.

"As you see, I make fire fight against fire," the hunter replied, quietly.

His companion had acted in the same manner in an opposite direction.

A curtain of flames arose rapidly around them, and, for some minutes, the camp was almost concealed beneath a vault of fire.

A quarter of an hour of terrible anxiety and intense expectation ensued.

By degrees the flames became less fierce, the air more pure; the smoke dispersed, the roarings of the conflagration diminished.

At length they were able to recognise each other in this horrible chaos.

A sigh of relief burst from every breast.

The camp was saved!

The conflagration, whose roaring became gradually more dull, conquered by the hunter, went to convey destruction in other directions.

Everyone rushed towards the stranger to thank him.

"You have saved the life of my niece," said the general warmly; "how shall I discharge my debt to you?"

"You owe me nothing, sir," the hunter replied, with noble simplicity; "in the prairie all men are brothers; I have only performed my duty by coming to your assistance."

As soon as the first moments of joy were past, and the camp had been put in a little order, everyone felt the necessity for repose after the terrible anxieties of the night.

The two strangers, who had constantly repulsed modestly, but firmly, the advances the general had made in the warmth of his gratitude, threw themselves carelessly on the baggage for a few hours' rest.

A little before dawn they arose.

"The earth must be cool by this time," said the hunter: "let us be gone before these people wake; perhaps they would not wish us to leave them so."

"Let us be gone!" the other replied laconically.

At the moment he was about to pass over the boundary of the camp, a hand was laid lightly upon the shoulder of the elder. He turned round, and Doña Luz was before him.

The two men stopped and bowed respectfully to the young lady.

"Are you going to leave us?" she asked in a soft and melodious voice.

"We must, señorita," the hunter replied.

"I understand," she said with a charming smile; "now that, thanks to you, we are saved, you have nothing more to do here, – is it not so?"

The two men bowed without replying.

"Grant me a favour," she said.

"Name it, señorita."

She took from her neck a little diamond cross she wore.

"Keep this, in remembrance of me."

The hunter hesitated.

"I beg you to do so," she murmured in an agitated voice.

"I accept it, señorita," the hunter said, as he placed the cross upon his breast close to his scapulary; "I shall have another talisman to add to that which my mother gave me."

"Thank you," the girl replied joyfully; "one word more?"

"Speak it, lady."

"What are your names?"

"My companion is called Belhumeur."

"But yourself?"

"Loyal Heart."

After bowing a second time, in sign of farewell, the two hunters departed at a quick pace, and soon disappeared in the darkness.

Doña Luz looked after them as long as she could perceive them, and then returned slowly and pensively towards her tent, repeating to herself in a low but earnest tone, —

"Loyal Heart! Oh! I shall remember that name."

CHAPTER VII.

THE SURPRISE

The United States have inherited from England that system of continual invasion and usurpation which is one of the most salient points in the British character.

Scarcely was the independence of North America proclaimed, and peace concluded with the mother country, ere those very men who cried out so loudly against tyranny and oppression, who protested against the violation of the rights of nations, of which they said they were the victims, organized, with that implacable coolness which they owe to their origin, a hunt of the Red Indians. Not only did they do so over the whole extent of their territories, but dissatisfied with the possession of the vast regions which their restless population, spite of its activity, did not suffice to clear and render valuable, they wished to make themselves masters of the two oceans, by encircling on all sides the aboriginal tribes, whom they drove back incessantly, and whom, according to the prophetic words, filled with bitter displeasure, of an aged Indian chief, they will eventually drown in the Pacific, by means of treachery and perfidy.

In the United States, about which people are beginning to be disabused, but which prejudiced or ill-informed persons still persist in representing as the classic land of liberty, is found that odious anomaly of two races degraded and despoiled for the advantage of a third race, which arrogates to itself a right of life and death over them, and considers them as nothing more than beasts of burden.

These two races, so worthy of the interest of all enlightened minds, and of the true friends of the human species, are the black and red races.

It is true, that on the other hand, to prove what thorough philanthropists they are, the United States did, in the year 1795, sign a treaty of peace and friendship with the Barbary States, which gave them advantages incomparably greater than those offered by the Order of Malta, which was likewise desirous of treating with them – a treaty guaranteed by the regencies of Algiers and Tripoli.

In this treaty it is positively stated that the government of the United States is not founded, in any way, upon the Christian religion.

To those to whom this may appear strong, we will reply that it is logical, and that the Americans in the article of God acknowledge but one alone – the God Dollar! who, in all times, has been the only one adored by the pirates of every country.

Draw the conclusion from this who will.

The squatters, a race without hearth or home, without right or law, the refuse of all nations, and who are the shame and scum of the North-American population, are advancing incessantly towards the West, and by clearings upon clearings endeavour to drive the Indian tribes from their last places of refuge.

In rear of the squatters come five or six soldiers, a drummer, a trumpeter, and an officer of some kind bearing the banner of the Stars and Stripes.

These soldiers build a fort with some trunks of trees, plant the flag on the top of it, and proclaim that the frontiers of the Confederation extend to that point.

Then around the fort spring up a few cabins, and a bastard population is grouped – a heterogeneous compound of whites, blacks, reds, copper-coloured, &c., &c., and a city is founded, upon which is bestowed some sonorous name – Utica, Syracuse, Rome, or Carthage, for example, and a few years later, when this city possesses two or three stone houses, it becomes by right the capital of a new state which is not yet in existence.

Thus are things going on in this country! – it is very simple, as is evident.

A few days after the events we have related in our preceding chapter, a strange scene was passing in a possession built scarcely two years before, upon the banks of the great Canadian river, in a beautiful position at the foot of a verdant hill.

This possession consisted of about twenty cabins, grouped capriciously near each other, and protected by a little fort, armed with four small cannon which commanded the course of the river.

The village, though so young, had already, thanks to the prodigious American activity, acquired all the importance of a city. Two taverns overflowed with tipplers, and three temples of different sects served to gather together the faithful.

The inhabitants moved about here and there with the preoccupation of people who work seriously and look sharply after their affairs.

Numerous canoes ploughed the river, and carts loaded with merchandise passed about in all directions, grinding upon their creaking axles, and digging deep ruts.

Nevertheless, in spite of all this movement, or, perhaps, on account of it, it was easy to observe that a certain uneasiness prevailed in the village.

The inhabitants questioned each other, groups were formed upon the steps of doors, and several men, mounted upon powerful horses, rode rapidly away, as scouts, in all directions, after taking their orders from the captain commanding the fort, who, dressed in full uniform, with a telescope in his hand, and his arms behind his back, was walking backwards and forwards, with hasty steps, upon the glacis of the little fort.

By degrees, the canoes regained the shore, the carts were unteamed, the beasts of burden were collected in the home pastures, and the entire population assembled upon the square of the village.

The sun was sinking rapidly towards the horizon, night would soon be upon them, and the horsemen sent to the environs had all returned.

"You see," said the captain to the assembled inhabitants, "that we had nothing to fear, it was only a false alarm; you may return peaceably to your dwellings, no trace of Indians can be found for twenty miles round."

"Hum!" an old half-breed hunter, leaning on his gun, observed, "Indians are not long in travelling twenty miles!"

"That is possible, White Eyes," the commandant replied, "but be convinced that if I have acted as I have done, it has been simply with the view of reassuring the people; the Indians will not dare to avenge themselves."

"Indians always avenge themselves, captain," said the old hunter, sententiously.

"You have drunk too much whiskey, White Eyes; it has got into your head; you are dreaming, with your eyes open."

"God grant you may be right, captain! but I have passed all my life in the clearings, and know the manners of the redskins, while you have only been on the frontiers two years."

"That is quite as long as is necessary," the captain interrupted, peremptorily.

"Nevertheless, with your permission, Indians are men, and the Comanches, who were treacherously assassinated here, in contempt of the laws of nations, were warriors renowned in their tribe."

"White Eyes, you are of mixed breed, you lean a little too much to the red race," said the captain ironically.

"The red race," the hunter replied proudly, "are loyal; they do not assassinate for the pleasure of shedding blood, as you yourself did, four days ago, in killing those two warriors who were passing inoffensively in their canoe, under the pretence of trying a new gun which you had received from Acropolis."

"Well, well! that's enough! Spare me your comments, White Eyes, I am not disposed to receive observations from you."

The hunter bowed awkwardly, threw his gun upon his shoulder and retired grumbling.

"That's all one! – Blood that is shed cries for vengeance; the redskins are men, and will not leave the crime unpunished."

The captain retired into the fort, visibly annoyed by what the half-breed had said to him. Gradually the inhabitants dispersed, after wishing each other good night, and closed their dwellings with that carelessness peculiar to men accustomed to risk their lives every minute.

An hour later night had completely set in, thick darkness enveloped the village, and the inhabitants, fatigued with the rude labours of the day, were reposing in profound security.

The scouts sent out by the captain towards the decline of day had badly performed their duty, or else they were not accustomed to Indian cunning, otherwise they never could, by their reports, have placed the colonists in such deceitful confidence.

Scarcely a mile from the village, concealed amongst and confounded with the thick bushes and intertwining trees of a virgin forest, of which the nearest part had already fallen under the indefatigable axe of the clearers, two hundred warriors of the tribe of the Serpent, guided by several renowned chiefs, among whom was Eagle Head, who, although wounded, insisted upon joining the expedition, were waiting, with that Indian patience which nothing can foil, the propitious moment for taking a severe vengeance for the insult they had received.

Several hours passed thus, and the silence of night was not disturbed by any noise whatever.

The Indians, motionless as bronze statues, waited without displaying the slightest impatience.

Towards eleven o'clock the moon rose, lighting the landscape with its silvery beams.

At the same instant the distant howling of a dog was repeated twice.

Eagle Head then left the tree behind which he had been screened, and began to creep with extreme address and velocity, in the direction of the village.

On reaching the skirts of the forest he stopped; then, after casting round an investigating glance, he imitated the neighing of a horse with such perfection that two horses of the village immediately replied to him.

After waiting for a few seconds, the practised ear of the chief perceived an almost insensible noise among the leaves; the bellowing of an ox was heard a short distance away; then the chief arose and waited.

Two seconds later a man joined him.

This man was White Eyes, the old hunter.

A sinister smile curled the corners of his thin lips.

"What are the white men doing?" the chief asked.

"They are asleep," the half-breed answered.

"Will my brother give them up to me?"

"For a fair exchange."

"A chief has but one word. The pale woman and the grey head?"

"Are here."

"Shall they belong to me?"

"All the inhabitants of the village shall be placed in the hands of my brethren."

"Och! Has not the hunter come?"

"Not yet."

"He will come presently?"

"Probably he will."

"What does my brother say now?"

"Where is that which I demanded of the chief?" the hunter said.

"The skins, the guns, and the powder, are in the rear, guarded by my young men."

"I trust to you, chief," the hunter replied, "but if you deceive me – "

"An Indian has but one word."

"That is good! Whenever you please, then."

Ten minutes later the Indians were masters of the village, all the inhabitants of which, roused one after the other, were made prisoners without a struggle.

The fort was surrounded by the Comanches, who, after heaping up at the foot of the walls trunks of trees, carts, furniture, and all the farming implements of the colonists, only waited for a signal from their chief to commence the attack.

All at once a vague form stood out from the top of the fort, and the cry of the sparrowhawk echoed through the air.

The Indians set fire to the kind of pyre they had raised and rushed towards the palisades, uttering altogether that horrible and piercing war cry which is peculiar to them, and which, on the frontiers, is always the signal for a massacre.

CHAPTER VIII.

INDIAN VENGEANCE

The position of the Americans, was most critical.

The captain, surprised by the silent attack of the Comanches, had been suddenly awakened by the frightful war cry they uttered, as soon as they had set fire to the materials heaped up in front of the fort.

Springing out of bed, the brave officer, for a moment dazzled by the ruddy gleam of the flames, half-dressed himself, and, sabre in hand, rushed towards the side where the garrison reposed; they had already taken the alarm, and were hastening to their posts with that careless bravery which distinguishes the Yankees.

But what was to be done?

The garrison amounted, captain included, to twelve men.

How, with so numerically weak a force, could they resist the Indians, whose diabolical profiles they saw fantastically lit up in the sinister reflections of the conflagration?

The officer sighed deeply.

"We are lost!" he murmured.

In the incessant combats fought on the Indian frontiers, the laws of civilized warfare are completely unknown.

The vae victis reigns in the full acceptation of the term.

Inveterate enemies, who fight one against another with all the refinements of barbarity, never ask or give quarter.

Every conflict, then, is a question of life and death.

Such is the custom.

The captain knew this well, therefore he did not indulge in the least allusion as to the fate that awaited him if he fell into the hands of the Comanches.

He had committed the fault of allowing himself to be surprised by the redskins, and he must undergo the consequence of his imprudence.

But the captain was a good and brave soldier; certain of not being able to retreat safe and sound from the wasp's nest into which he had fallen, he wished at least, to succumb with honour.

The soldiers had no need to be excited to do their duty; they knew as well as their captain that they had no chance of safety left.

The defenders of the fort, therefore, placed themselves resolutely behind the barricades, and began to fire upon the Indians with a precision that speedily caused them a heavy loss.

The first person the captain saw, on mounting the platform of the little fort, was the old hunter, White Eyes.

"Ah, ah!" murmured the officer to himself, "what is this fellow doing here?"

Drawing a pistol from his belt, he walked straight up to the half-breed, and, seizing him by the throat, he clapped the barrel of his pistol to his breast, saying, to him with that coolness which the Americans inherit from the English, and upon which they have improved —