The Pirates of the Prairies: Adventures in the American Desert

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE SUCCOUR.

  We will leave Eagle-wing and Dona Clara for a moment, and return toBloodson's Teocali.

  A few minutes before sunrise, Valentine awoke. "Up," he said to hiscompanions, "it is the hour for starting."

  Don Pablo and Shaw opened their eyes and got ready; but Curumilla wasnot there.

  "Oh, oh," the hunter said; "the chief is up already, I fancy. Let us godown to the plain. We shall probably soon come across him."

  The three men left the grotto, and began, by the uncertain rays of themoon, sliding down the abrupt sides of the Teocali, leaving theircomrades asleep. A few minutes later, they reached the plain, whereCurumilla was waiting for them, holding four horses by the bridle.Valentine gave a start of surprise.

  "We had agreed to go on foot, chief," he said. "Have you forgottenthat?"

  "No," the other replied, laconically.

  "Then, why the deuce did you saddle these horses, which are useless tous?"

  The Indian shook his head.

  "We shall be better on horseback," he said.

  "Still," Don Pablo observed, "I fancy that it's better to follow a trailon foot, as you said yourself yesterday, Don Valentine."

  The latter reflected for an instant; then, turning to the young man, heanswered him with a significant toss of the head:

  "Curumilla is a prudent man. We have lived together for nearly fifteenyears, and I have always found it best to follow his advice. Only once Iwanted to have my own way, and then I all but lost my scalp. We willmount, Don Pablo. The chief has his reasons for acting as he is nowdoing, as the result will in all probability prove."

  The hunters leaped into the saddle, and, after a farewell glance at theTeocali, where their friends were resting, they let their horses feelthe spur.

  "In what direction are we going?" Don Pablo asked.

  "Let us first gain the riverbank," Valentine answered. "So soon as wehave got there, we shall see what we have to do. But, mind we do notseparate; for in the darkness it will be almost impossible to find eachother."

  On the prairies, the only roads that exist, and can be followed, arepaths traced for ages by buffaloes, elks, and wild beasts. These pathsform labyrinths; of which the Indians alone hold the thread; hunters,however well acquainted they may be with the prairies, only enter themwith the utmost precautions. When they fancy they recognise a path, theywill not leave it under any pretext, certain that if they Were soimprudent as to turn to the right or left, they would not fail to losethemselves, and have infinite difficulty in finding their road again.

  Valentine was, perhaps, the only white hunter on the prairies who, owingto the profound knowledge he possessed of the desert, could enter thismaze with impunity. However, as all the paths inevitably lead to thebanks of rivers, and this direction was the one the little party was tofollow, Valentine's remark was only intended to moderate Don Pablo'sardour, and compel him to march at his side.

  After a hurried ride of two hours, the hunters at length foundthemselves on the banks of the Gila, which rolled its yellow and turbidwaters along beneath them. At the moment when they reached the river,the sun rose majestically on the horizon in a mist of purpled clouds.

  "Let us stop here a moment," Valentine said, "in order to form our planof action."

  "We do not need a long discussion for that." Don Pablo replied.

  "You think so?"

  "Hang it all, the only thing to be done, I fancy, is to follow RedCedar's trail."

  "True: but to follow it we must first find it."

  "Granted: so let us look for it."

  "That is what we are about to do."

  At this moment furious yells were heard not far from them. The hunters,surprised, looked about them anxiously, and soon saw a band of Indiansrunning in every direction along the river bank. These were not morethan half a league distant.

  "Oh, oh," Valentine said, "what's the meaning of this?"

  "They are Apaches," Shaw remarked.

  "I can see that," the Frenchman said. "But what the deuce is the matterwith those devils? On my honour, they seem mad."

  "Wah!" Curumilla suddenly exclaimed, who was also looking, though notspeaking, as was his wont.

  "What's, the matter now?" Valentine asked, as he turned to the chief.

  "Look," the latter replied, as he stretched out his arm, "Dona Clara!"

  "What, Dona Clara!" the hunter exclaimed, with a start of surprise.

  "Yes," Curumilla observed, "my brother must look."

  "It is, in truth, Dona Clara," Valentine said after a minute; "what onearth can she be doing here?"

  And without caring for the Indians, who, on seeing him, would not failto start in pursuit, he hurried at full gallop in the direction of themaiden. His comrades followed him; not caring for the width of thestream at this spot, they plunged in, resolved to reach the other bank,and fly to the help of the maiden, under a shower of arrows which theIndians fired at them, while uttering yells of rage at these newenemies, who rose as if by enchantment before them.

  Eagle-wing and Dona Clara were still flying, unheeding the shouts of thehunters; the horsemen the Coras had perceived were Apache warriorsreturning to their village from a buffalo hunt. Although they wereignorant of what had happened, the sight of their friends gallopingalong the river bank, and the two riders escaping at full speed,revealed the truth to them, that is to say, that prisoners had escaped,and warriors of their tribe were in pursuit of them.

  The river was soon crowded with Apache warriors, who crossed it to catchup with the fugitives. The pursuit was beginning to reassume alarmingproportions for Eagle-wing and Dona Clara, in spite of the considerableadvance they still had on their enemies.

  The Gila is one of the largest and most majestic rivers in the Far West;its course is winding and capricious--it is full of rapids, cataracts,and islets formed by the change of bed which it effects when, by anabundant overflow of water, it spreads far and wide over the country,inundating it for four or five leagues around.

  Eagle-wing had seen that the only chance of safety left him was not onthe prairie, where he had, not a single covert to attempt a desperateresistance, but on one of those little islets of the Gila, whose rocksand thick scrubs would offer a temporary shelter, that could not beviolated with impunity. His vagabond course had, therefore, no otherobject but to return to the river by a zigzag route.

  Valentine and his comrades had not lost one of the fugitive's movements;although they were themselves hotly pursued, they anxiously followed theincidents of this terrible struggle.

  "They are lost!" Don Pablo suddenly shouted. "That Indian is mad, on mysoul. See, he is trying to turn back in this direction--it is runninginto the wolf's throat!"

  "You are mistaken," Valentine answered; "the tactics of that man are, onthe contrary, extremely simple, and at the same time most clever. TheApaches have guessed them; for look, they are trying to cut him off fromthe river as far as they can."

  "'Tis true, by heavens!" Shaw said; "We must help that man in hismanoeuvre."

  "That depends on ourselves," Valentine answered, quickly; "let us turnand suddenly attack the Apaches; perhaps that diversion will enable ourfriends to succeed."

  "Well, that is an excellent idea," remarked Don Pablo; "how wise it wasof Curumilla to make us ride."

  "What did I say to you?" Valentine said with a smile. "Oh! the chief isan invaluable man."

  Curumilla smiled proudly, but maintained silence.

  "Are you ready to follow me and be killed, if necessary to save DonaClara?" Valentine went on.

  "_Cascaras!_" the hunters answered.

  "Forward, then, in heaven's name! Each of us must be worth ten men!" theFrenchman shouted, as he suddenly turned his horse on its hind legs. Thefour men rushed at full speed on the Apaches, uttering a formidableyell. On arriving within range they discharged their rifles, and fourApaches fell.

  The Indians, intimidated by this sudden attack, which they were far fromanticipatin
g, dispersed in every direction to avoid the shock of theirdaring adversaries; then, collecting in a compact mass, they charged intheir turn, uttering their war cry, and brandishing their weapons. Butthe hunters received them with a second discharge, which hurled fourmore Indians on the sand, and then started in different directions tocollect again, one hundred and fifty yards further on.

  "Courage, my friends!" Valentine cried, "Those scoundrels do not knowhow to use their weapons; if we liked We could hold them in check thewhole day."

  "That will not be necessary," Don Pablo remarked; "look there!"

  In fact, the fugitives, profiting by the moment's respite which thehunters' attack on the Apaches granted them, had reached an islet aboutone hundred yards in circumference, in the middle of the stream, wherethey were temporarily in safety.

  "It is now our turn," Valentine loudly shouted; "a final charge to drivethose devils back, and then to the islet!"

  "Hurrah! Hurrah!" the hunters then shouted, and they rushed on theApaches.

  There were a few minutes of hand-to-hand fighting, but the Apaches atlength broke, and the hunters, freed by prodigies of valour, retreated tothe riverbank, from which they were not more than twenty yards distant.The others plunged into the river, but suddenly Valentine's horse stoodup, gave a prodigious bound, and fell back on its rider--the nobleanimal was literally riddled with arrows.

  The Apaches uttered a formidable yell of joy, on seeing one of theirenemies rolling on the ground, and they rushed up to scalp him. ButValentine had risen to his feet immediately; kneeling behind the body ofhis horse, which he converted into a breastwork, he discharged at theIndians first his rifle, and then his pistols, being supported by thefire of the hunters, who had reached the islet.

  The Apaches, exasperated at being held in check by one man, rushed uponhim, as if to crush him beneath their weight. Valentine, to whom hisfirearms were now useless, seized his rifle by the barrel, and employedit like a mace, falling back step by step, but always keeping his frontto the enemy.

  By a prodigious chance, Valentine had not yet received a wound, save afew unimportant scratches, for the Indians were so close together thatthey could not use their arms for fear of wounding one another. ButValentine felt his strength deserting him, his ears buzzed, his templesthrobbed as if bursting; a veil was gradually spread over his eyes, andhis wearied arms only dealt uncertain blows.

  Human strength has its limits, and however great the energy and will ofa man may be, the moment arrives when further fighting becomesimpossible, his strength betrays his courage, and he is forced toconfess himself vanquished.

  Valentine was reduced to this supreme point. His rifle broke in hishands; he was disarmed, and at the mercy of his ferocious enemies. Allwas over with the gallant Frenchman.

  But the hunters, whom the Indians had forgotten in the heat of theaction, seeing the imminent peril of their companion, resolutely hurriedto his aid. While Eagle-wing, Don Pablo, and Shaw attacked the Indiansand compelled them to fall back, Curumilla carried off his friend on hisshoulders.

  The contest began again, more obstinate and terrible than before, but,after extraordinary efforts, the hunters succeeded in regaining theislet, in spite of the stubborn resistance of the redskins.

  Valentine had fainted, and Curumilla carried him to a perfectlysheltered spot, and silently busied himself with recalling him to life.But fatigue alone had produced the hunter's syncope, so he soon reopenedhis eyes, and ten minutes later he was perfectly restored.

  When the Apaches saw their enemies in safety, they ceased a contesthenceforth useless, and retired out of rifle range. The day passedwithout fresh incidents, and the hunters were able to intrenchthemselves as well as they could on the islet, which they had succeededin reaching with so much toil.