CHAPTER XVIII.
FATHER SERAPHIN.
"Gentlemen," said Valentine, "this is what I propose. The treachery ofRed Cedar, in surrendering to the Government the secret of yourconspiracy, places you in a critical position, from which you cannotescape save by violent measures. You are between life and death. Youhave no alternative save victory or defeat. The powder is fired, theground is mined under your feet, and an explosion is imminent. Well,then, pick up the glove treachery throws to you--accept frankly theposition offered you. Do not wait till you are attacked, but commencethe contest. Remember the vulgar adage, which is perfectly true inpolitics, and specially in revolution--that 'the first blow is half thebattle.' Your enemies will be terrified by your boldness--dashed by thisuprising which they are far from expecting, especially now, when theyimagine they hold in their hands all the threads of the conspiracy--anerror which makes them put faith in the revelations of a common spy, andwill ruin them if you act with skill--above all, with promptitude. Alldepends on the first blow. It must be terrible, and terrify them: ifnot, you are lost."
"All that is true; but we lack time," General Ibanez observed.
"Time is never lacking when a man knows how to employ it properly,"Valentine answered peremptorily. "I repeat, you must be beforehand withyour adversaries."
At this moment the sound of footsteps was heard under the vault of thecave. The most extreme silence at once reigned in the chamber where thefive conspirators were assembled. Mechanically each sought his weapons.The steps rapidly approached, and a man appeared in the entrance of thehall. On seeing him all present uttered a cry of joy and roserespectfully, repeating, "Father Seraphin!"
The man advanced smiling, bowed gracefully, and answered in a gentle andmelodious voice, which went straight to the soul,--
"Take your places again, gentlemen, I beg of you. I should be trulyvexed if I caused you any disturbance. Permit me only to sit down for afew moments by your side."
They hastened to make room for him. Let us say in a few words who thisperson was, whose unexpected arrival caused so much pleasure to thepeople assembled in the grotto.
Father Seraphin was a man of twenty-four at the most, although thefatigues he supported, the harsh labours he had imposed on himself, andwhich he fulfilled with more than apostolic abnegation, had leftnumerous traces on his face, with its delicate features, its gentle andfirm expression, imprinted with a sublime melancholy, rendered even moretouching by the beam of ineffable goodness which escaped from his large,blue and thoughtful eyes. His whole person, however, exhaled a perfumeof youth and health which disguised his age, as to which a superficialobserver might have been easily deceived.
Father Seraphin was a Frenchman, and belonged to the order of theLazarists. For five years he had been traversing as an indefatigablemissionary, with no other weapon than his staff, the unexploredsolitudes of Texas and New Mexico, preaching the gospel to the Indians,while caring nothing for the terrible privations and nameless sufferingshe incessantly endured, and the death constantly suspended over hishead.
Father Seraphin was one of those numerous soldiers, ignored martyrs ofthe army of faith, who, making a shield of the Gospel, spread at theperil of their lives the word of God in those barbarous countries, anddie heroically, falling bravely on their battlefield, worn out by thepainful exigencies of their sublime mission, aged at thirty, but havinggained over a few souls to the truth, and shed light among the ignorantmasses.
The abnegation and devotion of these modest men, yet so great in heart,are too much despised in France, where however, the greater number ofthese martyrs are recruited. Their sacrifices pass unnoticed; for, owingto the false knowledge possessed of beyond-sea countries, people are farfrom suspecting the continual struggles they have to sustain against adeadly climate. And who would credit it? The most obstinate adversariesthey meet with in the accomplishment of their mission are not among theIndians, who always nearly welcome them with respect, if not joy, butamong the men whom their labours benefit, and who ought to aid andprotect them with all their might. There is no vexation or humiliationwhich they do not endure from the agents of Mexico and the AmericanUnion, to try and disgust and compel them to abandon the arena in whichthey combat so nobly.
Father Seraphin had gained the friendship and respect of all those withwhom accident had brought him into contact. Charmed with meeting afellow countryman in the midst of those vast solitudes so distant fromthat France he never hoped to see again, he had attached himself closelyto Valentine, to whom he vowed a deep and sincere affection. For thesame motives, the hunter, who admired the greatness of character of thispriest so full of true religion, felt himself drawn to him by anirresistible liking. They had frequently taken long journeys together,the hunter guiding his friend to the Indian tribes across the desolateregions of Apacheria.
So soon as Father Seraphin had taken his place near the fire, Eagle-wingand Curumilla hastened to offer him all those slight services which theyfancied might be agreeable to him, and offered him a few lumps of roastvenison with maize tortillas. The missionary gladly gratified the twochiefs, and accepted their offerings.
"It is a long time since we saw you, father," the hacendero said. "Youneglect us. My daughter asked me about you only two days ago, for she isanxious to see you."
"Dona Clara is an angel who does not require me," the missionary repliedgently. "I have spent nearly two months with the Comanche tribe of theTortoise. Those poor Indians claim all my care. They are thirsting forthe Divine Word."
"Are you satisfied with your journey?"
"Sufficiently so, for these men are not such as they are represented tous. Their instincts are noble, and, as their primitive nature is notadulterated by contact with the vicious civilization that surroundsthem, they easily understood what is explained to them."
"Do you reckon on staying long among us?"
"Yes; this last journey has fatigued me extremely. My health is in adeplorable state, and I absolutely need a few days' rest in order toregain the requisite strength to continue my ministry."
"Well, father, come with me to the hacienda; you will remain with us,and make us all truly happy."
"I am going to make that request to you, Don Miguel. I am delighted thatyou have thus met my wishes. If I accept your obliging offer, it isbecause I know I shall not incommode you."
"On the contrary, we shall be delighted to have you among us."
"Ah! I know the goodness of your heart."
"Do not make me better than I am, father: there is a spice of egotism inwhat I am doing."
"How so?"
"Hang it! By labouring at the education of the Indians you render animmense service to the race I have the honor of belonging to; for I,too, am an Indian."
"That is true," the priest answered with a laugh. "Come, I absolve youfrom the sin of egotism, in favour of the intention which makes youcommit it."
"Father," Valentine then said, "is the game plentiful in the desert justat present?"
"Yes, there is a great deal: the buffaloes have come down from themountains in herds--the elks, the deer, and the antelopes swarm."
Valentine rubbed his hands.
"It will be a good season," he said.
"Yes, for you. As for myself, I have no cause of complaint, for theIndians have been most attentive to me."
"All the better. I ever tremble when I know you are among those reddevils. I do not say that of the Comanches, who are warriors I esteem,and have always displayed the sincerest affection for you; but I have aterrible fear lest those villains of Apaches may play you a wicked tricksome fine day."
"Why entertain such ideas, my friend?"
"They are correct. You cannot imagine what treacherous and cruel cowardsthose Apache thieves are. I know them, and carry their marks; but do notfrighten yourself. If ever they ventured on any extremities against you,I know the road to their villages: there is not a nook in the desertwhich I have not thoroughly explored. It is not for nothing I havereceived the name of
the 'Trail-hunter.' I swear to you I will not leavethem a scalp."
"Valentine, you know I do not like to hear you speak so. The Indians arepoor ignorant men, who know not what they do, and must be pardoned forthe evil they commit."
"All right--all right!" the hunter growled. "You have your ideas on thatscore, and I mine."
"Yes," the missionary replied with a smile, "but I believe mine bebetter."
"It is possible. You know I do not discuss that subject with you; for Ido not know how you do it, but you always succeed in proving to me thatI am wrong."
Everybody laughed at this sally.
"And what are the Indians doing at this moment?" Valentine continued."Are they still fighting?"
"No; I succeeded in bringing Unicorn, the principal chief of theComanches, and Stanapat (the Handful of Blood), the Apache sachem, to aninterview, at which peace was sworn."
"Hum!" Valentine said incredulously, "that peace will not last long, forUnicorn has too many reasons to owe the Apaches a grudge."
"Nothing leads to the supposition, at present, that your forebodingswill be speedily realised."
"Why so?"
"Because, when I left Unicorn, he was preparing for a grand buffalohunt, in which five hundred picked warriors were to take part."
"Ah, ah! and where do you think the hunt will take place, father?"
"I know for a certainty, because, when I left Unicorn, he begged me toinvite you to it, as he knew I should see you shortly."
"I willingly accept, for a buffalo hunt always had great attractions forme."
"You will not have far to go to find Unicorn, for he is scarce tenleagues from this place."
"The hunt will take place, then, in the neighbourhood?"
"The meeting-place is Yellowstone Plain."
"I shall not fail to be there, father. Ah! I am delighted, more than youcan suppose, at the happy news you have brought me."
"All the better, my friend. Now, gentlemen, I will ask you to excuse me;for I feel so broken with fatigue that, with your permission, I will goand take a few hours' rest."
"I was a fool not to think of it before," Valentine exclaimed withvexation as he struck his forehead. "Pardon me, father."
"I thought for my brother," said Curumilla. "If my father will follow meall is ready."
The missionary thanked him with a smile and rose, bowed to all present,and supported by Eagle-wing, he followed Curumilla into another chamberof the grotto. Father Seraphin found a bed of dry leaves covered withbear skins, and a fire so arranged as to burn all night. The two Indiansretired after bowing respectfully to the father, and assuring themselvesthat he needed nothing more.
After kneeling on the ground of the grotto Father Seraphin laid himselfon his bed of leaves, crossed his arms on his chest, and fell into thatchildlike sleep which only the just enjoy. After his departure Valentinebent over to his two friends.
"All is saved," he said in a low voice.
"How? Explain yourself," they eagerly answered.
"Listen to me. You will spend the night here; at daybreak you will startfor the Hacienda de la Noria, accompanied by Father Seraphin."
"Good! What next?"
"General Ibanez will proceed, as from you, to the governor, and invitehim to a grand hunt of wild horses, to take place in three days."
"I do not understand what you are driving at."
"That is not necessary at this moment. Let me guide you; but, above all,arrange it so that all the authorities of the town accept yourinvitation and are present at the hunt."
"That I take on myself."
"Very good. You, general, will collect all the men you can, so that theycan support you on a given signal, but hide themselves so that no onecan suspect their presence."
"Very good," Don Miguel answered; "all shall be done as you recommend.But where will you be all this while?"'
"You know very well," he answered with a smile of undefinable meaning."I shall be hunting the buffalo with my friend Unicorn, the great chiefof the Comanches."
Hastily breaking off the interview, the hunter wrapped himself in hisbuffalo robe, stretched himself before the fire, closed his eyes, andslept, or feigned to sleep. After a few minutes' hesitation his friendimitated his example, and the grotto became calm and silent as on theday of the creation.
The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West Page 18
