The Pirates of the Prairies: Adventures in the American Desert

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XVII.

  INDIAN HOSPITALITY.

  Not only was the attempt of the hunters to escape not so desperate asthe reader might be inclined to suppose, but it even offered, up to acertain point, great chances of success.

  The Apaches, when encamped in sight of an enemy, never keep watch,unless they form a weak detachment of warriors, and find themselvesopposed to a far superior force; but even in that case these sentriesare so careless that it is extremely easy to surprise them, which oftenhappens, by the way, without rendering them any the more cautious.

  In the case of which we write, hardly a few miles from their village,and having an effective strength of nearly eight hundred bold warriors,they could not suppose that five men, who had sought shelter in anisland, without the means of quitting it, would attempt such a daringstroke.

  Hence, after their attempted surprise of the whites had failed, theyreturned to sleep, some round the fires, others in the tents erected bytheir wives, waiting patiently for the morrow to attack their foes fromall sides at once, which offered a certain chance of success.

  In the meanwhile the hunters advanced toward the bank, concealed by thefog that enfolded them like a winding sheet, and hid their movementsfrom the eyes interested in spying them. In this way they arrived insight of the fires, whose uncertain gleams became weaker and weaker, andthey saw their enemies lying down asleep.

  Eagle-wing, at a hint from Sunbeam, steered the canoe to the foot of arock, whose commanding mass stood about thirty feet over the river, andoffered them under its flank a propitious shelter to disembark insecurity.

  So soon as they landed, the hunters took Indian file, and with theirrifles ready, they stealthily marched toward the camp, stopping atintervals to look anxiously around them, or listen to any suspicioussound.

  Then, when all became quiet again, they resumed their venturesome march,gliding past tents and at times stepping over the sleepers at the fire,whom the slightest badly-calculated movement would have aroused.

  It is impossible to form a correct idea of such a march unless you havemade one yourself. A man gifted with the most energetic mind could notendure its terrible emotions for an hour. With oppressed chest, haggardeyes, and limbs agitated by a feverish and convulsive motion, thehunters passed through the midst of their ferocious enemies, knowingperfectly well that, if they were discovered, it would be all over withthem, and that they would perish in the most horrible agony.

  On reaching almost the extreme limit of the camp, an Indian, lyingacross the path they were following, suddenly made a movement and satup, instinctively seizing his lance. One shout and the hunters werelost! Curumilla walked straight up to the Indian, who was stupefied bythe sight of this funereal and fantastic procession, which he could notcomprehend, and was followed by his comrades, whose step was so lightthat they seemed to glide over the ground without touching it.

  The Apache, terrified by this apparition, which, in his superstitiousbelief, he attributed to the heavenly powers, crossed his arms on hischest and silently bowed his head. The band passed, the Indian notmaking a sigh or uttering a word. The hunters had scarce disappearedbehind some rising ground, when the Apache ventured to lift his eyes; hewas then convinced that he had had a vision, and without trying toaccount for what he had seen, he lay down and went quietly to sleepagain. By this time the hunters had emerged from the camp.

  "Now," said Valentine, "the worst is over."

  "On the contrary," Don Pablo observed, "our position is more precariousthan ever, since we are in the midst of our enemies, and have nohorses."

  Curumilla laid his hand on his shoulder, and looked at him softly. "Mybrother will be patient," he said, "he will soon have them."

  "How so?" the young man asked.

  "Sunbeam," the Aucas Chief continued, "must know where the horses of thetribe are."

  "I know it," she replied, laconically.

  "Very good; my sister will guide me."

  "Chief, one moment: the deuce!" Valentine exclaimed, "I will not let yourun this new danger alone; it would be a dishonour to my white skin."

  "My brother can come."

  "That is exactly what I mean to do. Don Pablo will remain here with Shawand Eagle-wing near Dona Clara, while we attempt this new expedition.What do you think of it, Don Pablo?"

  "That your plan, my friend, is worth nothing."

  "Why so?"

  "For this reason: we are here two paces from the Apaches, and one ofthem may awake at any moment. Just now we escaped only by a miracle; whoknows how our enterprise will turn? If we separate, perhaps we may nevercome together again. My opinion is, that we should all go together tolook for the horses; we should then save time in useless coming andgoing, and this will give us a considerable advantage."

  "That is true," Valentine answered; "let us go together, and in that waywe shall have finished sooner."

  Sunbeam then began guiding the little party, but instead of re-enteringthe camp, as the hunters feared, she skirted it for some distance; then,making a sign to her companions to stop and wait, she advanced alone.Within five minutes she returned.

  "The horses are there," she said, pointing to a spot in the fog; "theyare hobbled, and guarded by a man walking up and down near them. Whatwill my pale brothers do?"

  "Kill the man, and seize the horses we want," Don Pablo said; "we arenot in such a situation that we can be fastidious."

  "Why kill the poor man, if he can be got rid of otherwise?" Dona Clarasaid, softly.

  "That is true," Valentine supported her, "we are not wild beasts, hangit all!"

  "The warrior shall not be killed," Curumilla said, in his grave voice;"my pale brothers must wait."

  And seizing the lasso he always carried about him, the Aucas lay down onthe ground, and began crawling through the tall grass. He soondisappeared in the fog.

  The Apache sentry was strolling carelessly along, when Curumillasuddenly rose behind him, and seizing his neck in both his hands, hesqueezed it with such force that the Apache, taken unawares, had nottime to utter a cry.

  In a turn of the hand he was thrown down, and garotted, and that sopromptly that he was choked as much by the sudden attack as by theterror that had seized on him. The chief put his prisoner on hisshoulders, and deposited him at Dona Clara's feet, saying--"My sister'swishes are accomplished, this man is safe and sound."

  "Thank you," the maiden answered, with a charming smile.

  Curumilla turned red with delight.

  Without loss of time, the hunters seized the seven best horses they cameacross, which they saddled, and then shod with _parfleche_ to avoid thesound of their hoofs on the sand.

  This time, Valentine assumed the command of the party. So soon as thehorses were urged into a gallop, all their chests, oppressed by themoving interludes of the struggle which had continued so long, dilated,and hope returned to their hearts. The hunters were at length in thedesert; before them they had space, good horses, arms and ammunition.They fancied themselves saved, and were so to a certain extent, astheir enemies still slept, little suspecting their daring escape.

  The night was half spent, and the fog covered the fugitives. They had atleast six hours before them, and they profited by them.

  The horses, urged to their utmost speed, went two leagues withoutstopping. At sunrise the fog was dissipated by the first beams; and thehunters instinctively raised their heads. The desert was calm, nothingdisturbed its majestic solitude; in the distance a few elks andbuffaloes were browsing on the prairie grass, a sure sign of the absenceof Indians, whom these intelligent animals scent at great distances.

  Valentine, in order to let the horses breathe awhile, as well as drawbreath himself, checked the headlong speed, which had no further object.The region on which the hunters found themselves in no way resembledthat they had quitted a few hours previously; here and there, themonotony of the landscape was broken by lofty trees; on either sidestretched out high hills. At times they forded some of the innumerablestreams which fall fro
m the mountains, and, after the most capriciouswindings, are swallowed up in the Gila.

  At about eight o'clock Valentine noticed, a little to the left, a lightcloud of bluish smoke rising in a spiral to the sky.

  "What is that?" Don Pablo asked, anxiously.

  "A hunter's encampment, doubtless," Valentine answered.

  "No," Curumilla said; "that is not a paleface, but an Indian, fire."

  "How the deuce can you see that, chief? I fancy all fires are the same,and produce smoke," Don Pablo said.

  "Yes," Valentine remarked, "all fires produce smoke; but there is adifference in smoke--is there not, chief?" he added, addressingCurumilla.

  "Yes," the latter answered laconically.

  "All that is very fine," Don Pablo went on; "but can you explain to me,chief, by what you see, that the smoke is produced by a redskin fire?"

  Curumilla shrugged his shoulders without replying--Eagle-wing took theword.

  "The whites, when they light fires," he said, "take the first wood tohand."

  "Of course," said Don Pablo.

  "Most frequently they collect green wood: in that case the wood, whichis damp, produces in burning a white thick smoke, very difficult to hideon the prairie; while the Indians only employ dry wood, whose smoke islight, thin, almost impalpable, and soon becomes confused with the sky."

  "Decidedly, on the desert," Don Pablo said, with an air of conviction,"the Indians are better than us; we shall never come up to them."

  "Humph!" said Valentine; "If you were to live with them a while, theywould teach you plenty more things."

  "Look," Eagle-wing continued; "what did I tell you?"

  In fact, during this conversation the hunters had continued theirjourney, and at this moment were not more than a hundred yards from thespot where the fire burned which had given rise to so many comments.Two Indians, completely armed and equipped for war, were standing infront of the travellers, waving their buffalo robes in sign of peace.

  Valentine quivered with joy on recognising them; these men wereComanches, that is to say, friends and allies, since the hunter was anadopted son of that nation. Valentine ordered his little party to halt,and carelessly throwing his rifle on his back, he pushed on, and soonmet the still motionless Indians.

  After exchanging the different questions always asked in such cases onthe prairie, as to the state of the roads and the quantity of game, thehunter, though he was well aware of the fact, asked the Indians to whatnation they belonged.

  "Comanches," one of the warriors answered, proudly. "My nation is theQueen of the Prairies."

  Valentine bowed, as if fully convinced. "I know," he said, "that theComanches are invincible warriors. Who can resist them?"

  It was the Indian's turn to bow, with a smile of satisfaction at thispoint-blank compliment.

  "Is my brother a chief?" Valentine again asked.

  "I am Pethonista (the Eagle)," the Indian said, regarding the hunterlike a man persuaded that he was about to produce a profound sensation.

  He was not mistaken; for the name was that of one of the most veneratedchiefs of the Comanche nation.

  "I know my brother," Valentine answered; "I am very happy to have methim."

  "Let my brother speak; I am listening to him: the great white hunter isno stranger to the Comanches, who have adopted him."

  "What?" the hunter exclaimed; "Do you know me too, chief?"

  The warrior smiled.

  "Unicorn is the most powerful Sachem of the Comanches," he said. "Onleaving his village twelve hours ago, he warned his brother Pethonistathat he expected a great white warrior adopted by the tribe."

  "It is him," said Valentine. "Unicorn is a part of myself, and the sightof him dilates my heart. Personally, I have nothing to say to you,chief, since the sachem has instructed you; but I bring with me friendsand two females--one is Sunbeam, the other the White Lily of theValley."

  "The White Lily is welcome among my people: my sons will make it a dutyto serve her," the Indian answered nobly.

  "Thanks, chief. I expected nothing less from you. Permit me to rejoin mycompanions, who are doubtless growing impatient, to tell them of thefortunate meeting with which the Master of Life has favoured me."

  "Good. My brother can return to his friends, and I shall go before himto the village, in order to warn my young men of the arrival of awarrior of our nation."

  Valentine smiled at this remark.

  "My brother is the master," he said.

  After bowing to the Indian chief, he returned to his companions, who didnot know to what circumstance they should attribute his lengthenedabsence.

  "They are friends," Valentine said, pointing to Pethonista, who hadleaped on a mustang, and started at full speed. "Unicorn, on leaving hisvillage, ordered the chief I have been speaking to, to do us the honoursuntil his return. So look, Don Pablo, how he hurries to announce ourarrival to the warriors of his tribe."

  "Heaven be praised!" the young man said, "For ease and rest in safety.Suppose we push on?"

  "Do not do so, my friend. On the contrary, if you will take my advice,we shall reduce our pace. The Comanches are doubtless preparing us areception, and we should annoy them by arriving too soon."

  "I do not wish that," Don Pablo replied. "In fact, we have nothing tofear now, so we can continue our journey at a trot."

  "Yes; for nothing presses on us. In an hour at the most we shall havearrived."

  "May Heaven be thanked for the protection it has deigned to grant us,"the young man said, looking up with a glance of gratitude.

  The little party continued to advance in the presumed direction of thevillage.