The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart

His perplexity was great. He adored his niece; she was his only object of love, his only consolation. For her he would, without regret or hesitation, a thousand times sacrifice all he possessed; but, on the other side, the reasons which had obliged him to undertake this perilous journey were of such importance that he trembled, and felt a cold perspiration bedew his forehead, at the thought of renouncing it.

"What is to be done?" he said to himself. "What is to be done?"

Doña Luz, who was in her turn leaving her tent, perceived her uncle, whose reflective walk still continued, and, running towards him, threw her arms affectionately round his neck.

"Good day, uncle," she said, kissing him.

"Good day, my daughter," the general replied. He was accustomed to call her so. "Eh! eh! my child, you are very gay this morning."

And he returned with interest the caresses she had lavished upon him.

"Why should I not be gay, uncle? Thanks to God? we have just escaped a great peril; everything in nature seems to smile, the birds are singing upon every branch, the sun inundates us with warm rays; we should be ungrateful towards the Creator if we remained insensible to these manifestations of His goodness."

"Then the perils of last night have left no distressing impression upon your mind, my dear child?"

"None at all, uncle, except a deep sense of gratitude for the benefits God has favoured us with."

"That is well, my daughter," the general replied joyfully, "I am happy to hear you speak thus."

"All the better, if it please you, uncle."

"Then," the general continued, following up the idea of his preoccupation, "the life we are now leading is not fatiguing to you?"

"Oh, not at all; on the contrary, I find it very agreeable, and, above all, full of incidents," she said with a smile.

"Yes," the general continued, partaking her gaiety; "but," he added, becoming serious again, "I think we are too forgetful of our liberators."

"They are gone," Doña Luz replied.

"Gone?" the general said, with great surprise.

"Full an hour ago."

"How do you know that, my child?"

"Very simply, uncle, they bade me adieu before they left us."

"That is not right," the general murmured in a tone of vexation; "a service is as binding upon those who bestow it as upon those who receive it; they should not have left us thus without bidding me farewell, without telling us whether we should ever see them again, and leaving us even unacquainted with their names."

"I know them."

"You know them, my daughter?" the general said, with astonishment.

"Yes, uncle; before they went, they told me."

"And – what are they?" the general asked, eagerly.

"The younger is named Belhumeur."

"And the elder?"

"Loyal Heart."

"Oh! I must find these two men again," the general said, with an emotion he could not account for.

"Who knows," the young girl replied, thoughtfully, "perhaps in the very first danger that threatens us they will make their appearance as our benevolent genii."

"God grant we may not owe their return among us to a similar cause."

The captain came up to pay the compliments of the morning.

"Well, captain," said the general, with a smile, "have you recovered from the effects of their alarm?"

"Perfectly, general," the young man replied, "and are quite ready to proceed, whenever you please to give the order."

"After breakfast we will strike tents; have the goodness to give the necessary orders to the lancers, and send the Babbler to me."

The captain bowed and retired.

"On your part, niece," the general continued, addressing Doña Luz, "superintend the preparations for breakfast, if you please, whilst I talk to our guide."

The young lady tripped away, and the Babbler almost immediately entered.

His air was dull, and his manner more reserved than usual.

The general took no notice of this.

"You remember," he said, "that you yesterday manifested an intention of finding a spot where we might conveniently encamp for a few days?"

"Yes, general."

"You told me you were acquainted with a situation that would perfectly suit our purpose?"

"Yes, general."

"Are you prepared to conduct us thither?"

"When you please."

"What time will it require to gain this spot?"

"Two days."

"Very well. We will set out, then, immediately after breakfast."

The Babbler bowed without reply.

"By the way," the general said, with feigned indifference, "one of your men seems to be missing."

"Yes."

"What is become of him?"

"I do not know."

"How! you do not know?" said the general, with a scrutinizing glance.

"No: as soon as he saw the fire, terror seized him, and he escaped."

"Very well!"

"He is most probably the victim of his cowardice."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The fire, most likely, has devoured him."

"Poor devil!"

A sardonic smile curled the lips of the guide.

"Have you anything more to say to me, general?"

"No; – but stop."

"I attend your orders."

"Do you know the two hunters who rendered us such timely service?"

"We all know each other in the prairie."

"What are those men?"

"Hunters and trappers."

"That is not what I ask you."

"What then?"

"I mean as to their character."

"Oh!" said the guide, with an appearance of displeasure.

"Yes, their moral character."

"I don't know anything much about them."

"What are their names?"

"Belhumeur and Loyal Heart."

"And you know nothing of their lives?"

"Nothing."

"That will do – you may retire."

The guide bowed, and with tardy steps rejoined his companions, who were preparing for departure.

"Hum!" the general murmured, as he looked after him, "I must keep a watch upon that fellow; there is something sinister in his manner."

After this aside, the general entered his tent, where the doctor, the captain, and Doña Luz were waiting breakfast for him.

Half an hour later, at most, the tent was folded up again, the packages were placed upon the mules, and the caravan was pursuing its journey under the direction of the Babbler, who rode about twenty paces in advance of the troop.

The aspect of the prairie was much changed since the preceding evening.

The black, burnt earth, was covered in places with heaps of smoking ashes; here and there charred trees, still standing, displayed their saddening skeletons; the fire still roared at a distance, and clouds of coppery smoke obscured the horizon.

The horses advanced with precaution over this uneven ground, where they constantly stumbled over the bones of animals that had fallen victims to the terrible embraces of the flames.

A melancholy sadness, much increased by the sight of the prospect unfolded before them, had taken possession of the travellers; they journeyed on, close to each other, without speaking, buried in their own reflections.

The road the caravan was pursuing wound along a narrow ravine, the dried bed of some torrent, deeply enclosed between two hills.

The ground trodden by the horses was composed of round pebbles, which slipped from under their hoofs, and augmented the difficulties of the march, which was rendered still more toilsome by the burning rays of the sun, that fell directly down upon the travellers, leaving no chance of escaping them, for the country over which they were travelling had completely assumed the appearance of one of those vast deserts which are met with in the interior of Africa.

The day passed away thus, and excepting the fatigue which oppressed them, the monotony of the journey was not broken by any incident.

In the evening they encamped in a plain absolutely bare, but in the horizon they could perceive an appearance of verdure, which afforded them great consolation; – they were about, at last, to enter a zone spared by the conflagration.

The next morning, two hours before sunrise, the Babbler gave orders to prepare for departure.

The day proved more fatiguing than the last; the travellers were literally worn out when they encamped.

The Babbler had not deceived the general. The site was admirably chosen to repel an attack of the Indians. We need not describe it; the reader is already acquainted with it. It was the spot on which we met with the hunters, when they appeared on the scene for the first time.

The general, after casting around him the infallible glance of the experienced soldier, could not help manifesting his satisfaction.

"Bravo!" he said to the guide; "if we have had almost insurmountable difficulties to encounter in getting here, we could at least, if things should so fall out, sustain a siege on this spot."

The guide made no reply; he bowed with an equivocal smile, and retired.

"It is surprising," the general murmured to himself, "that although that man's conduct may be in appearance loyal, and however impossible it may be to approach him with the least thing, – in spite of all that, I cannot divest myself of the presentiment that he is deceiving us, and that he is contriving some diabolical project against us."

The general was an old soldier of considerable experience, who would never leave anything to chance, that deus ex machinâ, which in a second destroys the best contrived plans.

Notwithstanding the fatigue of his people, he would not lose a moment; aided by the captain, he had an enormous number of trees cut down, to form a solid intrenchment, protected by chevaux de frise. Behind this intrenchment the lancers dug a wide ditch, of which they threw out the earth on the side of the camp; and then, behind this second intrenchment, the baggage was piled up, to make a third and last enclosure.

The tent was pitched in the centre of the camp, the sentinels were posted, and everyone else went to seek that repose of which they stood so much in need.

The general, who intended sojourning on this spot for some time, wished, as far as it could be possible, to assure the safety of his companions, and, thanks to his minute precautions, he believed he had succeeded.

For two days the travellers had been marching along execrable roads, almost without sleep, only stopping to snatch a morsel of food; as we have said, they were quite worn out with fatigue. Notwithstanding, then, their desire to keep awake, the sentinels could not resist the sleep which overpowered them and they were not long in sinking into as complete a forgetfulness as their companions.

Towards midnight, at the moment when everyone in the camp was plunged in sleep, a man rose softly, and creeping along in the shade, with the quickness of a reptile, but with extreme precaution, he glided out of the barricades and intrenchments.

He then went down upon the ground, and by degrees, in a manner almost insensibly, directed his course, upon his hands and knees, through the high grass towards a forest which covered the first ascent of the hill, and extended some way into the prairie. When he had gone a certain distance, and was safe from discovery, he rose up.

A moonbeam, passing between two clouds, threw a light upon his countenance.

That man was the Babbler.

He looked round anxiously, listened attentively, and then with incredible perfection imitated the cry of the prairie dog.

Almost instantly the same cry was repeated, and a man rose up, within at most ten paces of the Babbler.

This man was the guide who, three days before, had escaped from the camp on the first appearance of the conflagration.

CHAPTER XI.

THE BARGAIN

Indians and wood rangers have two languages, of which they make use by turns, according to circumstances – spoken language, and the language of gestures.

Like the spoken language, the language of signs has, in America, infinite fluctuations; everyone, so to say, invents his own. It is a compound of strange and mysterious gestures, a kind of masonic telegraph, the signs of which, varying at will, are only comprehensible to a small number of adepts.

The Babbler and his companion were conversing in signs.

This singular conversation lasted nearly an hour; it appeared to interest the speakers warmly; so warmly, indeed, that they did not remark, in spite of all the precautions they had taken not to be surprised, two fiery eyes that, from the middle of a tuft of underwood, were fixed upon them with strange intenseness.

At length the Babbler, risking the utterance of a few words, said, "I await your good pleasure."

"And you shall not wait it long," the other replied.

"I depend upon you, Kennedy; for my part, I have fulfilled my promise."

"That's well! that's well! We don't require many words to come to an understanding," said Kennedy, shrugging his shoulders; "only you need not have conducted them to so strong a position – it will not be very easy to surprise them."

"That's your concern," said the Babbler, with an evil smile.

His companion looked at him for a moment with great attention.

"Hum," said he; "beware, compadre, it is almost always awkward to play a double game with men like us."

"I am playing no double game; but I think you and I have known each other a pretty considerable time, Kennedy, have we not?"

"What follows?"

"What follows? Well! I am not disposed that a thing should happen to me again that has happened before, that's all."

"Do you draw back, or are you thinking about betraying us?"

"I do not draw back, and I have not the least intention of betraying you, only – "

"Only?" the other repeated.

"This time I will not give up to you what I have promised till my conditions have been agreed to pretty plainly; if not, no – "

"Well, at least that's frank."

"People should speak plainly in business affairs," the Babbler observed, shaking his head.

"That's true! Well, come, repeat the conditions; I will see if we can accept them."

"What's the good of that? You are not the principal chief, are you?"

"No: – but – yet – "

"You could pledge yourself to nothing – so it's of no use. If Waktehno – he who kills – were here now, it would be quite another thing. He and I should soon understand one another."

"Speak then, he is listening to you," said a strong, sonorous voice.

There was a movement in the bushes, and the personage who, up to that moment, had remained an invisible hearer of the conversation of the two men, judged, without doubt, that the time to take a part in it was arrived, for, with a bound, he sprang out of the bushes that had concealed him, and placed himself between the speakers.

"Oh! oh! you were listening to us, Captain Waktehno, were you?" said the Babbler without being the least discomposed.

"Is that unpleasant to you?" the newcomer asked, with an ironical smile.

"Oh! not the least in the world."

"Continue, then, my worthy friend – I am all ears."

"Well," said the guide, "it will, perhaps, be better so."

"Go on, then – speak; I attend to you."

The personage to whom the Babbler gave the terrible Indian name of Waktehno was a man of pure white race, thirty years of age, of lofty stature, and well proportioned, handsome in appearance, and wearing with a certain dashing carelessness the picturesque costume of the wood rangers. His features were noble, strongly marked, and impressed with that loyal and haughty expression so often met with among men accustomed to the rude, free life of the prairies.

He fixed his large, black, brilliant eyes upon the Babbler, a mysterious smile curled his lips, and he leant carelessly upon his rifle whilst listening to the guide.

"If I cause the people I am paid to escort and conduct to fall into your hands, you may depend upon it I will not do so unless I am amply recompensed," said the bandit.

"That is but fair," Kennedy remarked; "and the captain is ready to assure your being so recompensed."

"Yes," said the other, nodding his head in sign of agreement.

"Very well," the guide resumed. "But what will be my recompense?"

"What do you ask?" the captain said. "We must know what your conditions are before we agree to satisfy them."

"Oh! my terms are very moderate."

"Well, but what are they?"

The guide hesitated, or, rather, he calculated mentally the chances of gain and loss the affair offered; then in an instant, he replied:

"These Mexicans are very rich."

"Probably," said the captain.

"Therefore it appears to me – "

"Speak without tergiversation, Babbler; we have not time to listen to your circumlocutions. Like all half-bloods, the Indian nature always prevails in you, and you never come frankly to the purpose."

"Well, then," the guide bluntly replied, "I will have five thousand duros, or nothing shall be done."

"For once you speak out; now we know what we have to trust to; you demand five thousand dollars?"

"I do."

"And for that sum you agree to deliver up to us, the general, his niece, and all the individuals who accompany them."

"At your first signal."

"Very well! Now listen to what I am going to say to you."

"I listen."

"You know me, do you not?"

"Perfectly."

"You know dependence is to be placed upon my word?"

"It is as good as gold."

"That's well. If you loyally fulfil the engagements you freely make with me, that is to say, deliver up to me, not all the Mexicans who comprise your caravan, very respectable people no doubt, but for whom I care very little, but only the girl, called, I think, Doña Luz, I will not give you five thousand dollars as you ask, but eight thousand – you understand me, do you not?"

The eyes of the guide sparkled with greediness and cupidity.

"Yes!" he said emphatically.

"That's well."

"But it will be a difficult matter to draw her out of the camp alone."

"That's your affair."

"I should prefer giving them all up in a lump."

"Go to the devil! What could I do with them?"

"Hum! what will the general say?"

"What he likes; that is nothing to me. Yes or no – do you accept the offer I make you?"

"Oh! I accept it."

"Do you swear to be faithful to your engagements?"

"I swear."

"Now then, how long does the general reckon upon remaining in this new encampment?"

"Ten days."

"Why, then, did you tell me that you did not know how to draw the young girl out, having so much time before you?"

"Hum! I did not know when you would require her to be delivered up to you?"

"That's true. Well, I give you nine days; that is to say, on the eve of their departure the young girl must be given up to me."

"Oh! in that way – "

"Then that arrangement suits you?"

"It could not be better."

"Is it agreed?"

"Irrevocably."

"Here, then, Babbler," said the captain, giving the guide a magnificent diamond pin which he wore in his hunting shirt, "here is my earnest."

"Oh!" the bandit exclaimed, seizing the jewel joyfully.

"That pin," said the captain, "is a present I make you in addition to the eight thousand dollars I will hand over to you on receiving Doña Luz."

"You are noble and generous, captain," said the guide; "it is a pleasure to serve you."

"Still," the captain rejoined, in a rough voice, and with a look cold as a steel blade, "I would have you remember I am called he who kills; and that if you deceive me, there does not exist in the prairie a place sufficiently strong or sufficiently unknown to protect you from the terrible effects of my vengeance.

"I know that, captain," said the half-breed, shuddering in spite of himself; "but you may be quite satisfied I will not deceive you."

"I hope you will not! Now let us separate; your absence may be observed. In nine days I shall be here."

"In nine days I will place the girl in your hands."

After these words the guide returned to the camp, which he entered without being seen.

As soon as they were alone, the two men with whom the Babbler had just made this hideous and strange bargain, retreated silently among the underwood, through which they crawled like serpents.

They soon reached the banks of a little rivulet which ran, unperceived and unknown, through the forest. Kennedy whistled in a certain fashion twice.

A slight noise was heard, and a horseman, holding two horses in hand, appeared at a few paces from the spot where they had stopped.

"Come on, Frank," said Kennedy, "you may approach without fear."

The horsemen immediately advanced.

"What is there new?" Kennedy asked.

"Nothing very important," the horseman replied.

"I have discovered an Indian trail."

"Ah! ah!" said the captain, "numerous?"

"Rather so."

"In what direction?"

"It cuts the prairie from east to west."

"Well done, Frank, and who are these Indians?"

"As well as I can make out, they are Comanches."

The captain reflected a moment.

"Oh! it is some detachment of hunters," he said.

"Very likely," Frank replied.

The two men mounted.

"Frank and you, Kennedy," said the captain, at the expiration of a minute, "will go to the passage of the Buffalo, and encamp in the grotto which is there; carefully watching the movements of the Mexicans, but in such a manner as not to be discovered."

"Be satisfied of that, captain."

"Oh; I know you are very adroit and devoted comrades, therefore I perfectly rely upon you. Watch the Babbler, likewise; that half-breed only inspires me with moderate confidence."

"That shall be done!"

"Farewell, then, till we meet again. You shall soon hear of me."

Notwithstanding the darkness, the three men set off at a gallop, and were soon far in the desert, in two different directions.

CHAPTER XII.

PSYCHOLOGICAL

The general had kept the causes which made him undertake a journey into the prairies from the west of the United States so profound a secret, that the persons who accompanied him had not even a suspicion of them.

Several times already, at his command, and without any apparent reason, the caravan had encamped in regions completely desert, where he had passed a week, and sometimes a fortnight, without any apparent motive for such a halt.

In these various encampments the general would set out every morning, attended by one of the guides, and not return till evening.

What was he doing during the long hours of his absence?

For what object were these explorations made, at the end of which a greater degree of sadness darkened his countenance?

No one knew.

During these excursions, Doña Luz led a sufficiently monotonous life, isolated among the rude people who surrounded her. She passed whole days seated sadly in front of her tent, or, mounted on horseback and escorted by Captain Aguilar or the fat doctor, she took rides near the camp, without object and without interest.

It happened this time again, exactly as it had happened at the preceding stations of the caravan.

The young girl, abandoned by her uncle, and even by the doctor, who was pursuing, with increasing ardour, the great research for his imaginary plant, and set out resolutely every morning herbalizing, was reduced to the company of Captain Aguilar.

But Captain Aguilar was, we are forced to admit, although young, elegant and endowed with a certain relative intelligence, not a very amusing companion for Doña Luz.

A brave soldier, with the courage of a lion, entirely devoted to the general, to whom he owed everything, the captain entertained for the niece of his chief great attachment and respect; he watched with the utmost care over her safety, but he was completely unacquainted with the means of rendering the time shorter by those attentions and that pleasant chat which are so agreeable to girls.

This time Doña Luz did not become so ennuyée as usual. Since that terrible night – from the time that one of those fabulous heroes whose history and incredible feats she had so often read, Loyal Heart, had appeared to her to save her and those who accompanied her – a new sentiment, which she had not even thought of analyzing, had germinated in her maiden heart, had grown by degrees, and in a very few days had taken possession of her whole being.

The image of the hunter was incessantly present to her thoughts, encircled with that ennobling glory which is won by the invincible energy of the man who struggles, body to body, with some immense danger, and forces it to acknowledge his superiority. She took delight in recalling to her partial mind the different scenes of that tragedy of a few hours, in which the hunter had played the principal character.