Balle-Franche. English

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE EXILE.

  We are compelled, for the proper comprehension of the facts that willfollow, to break off our story for a moment, in order to describe astrange adventure which happened on the Western Prairies some thirtyodd years before our story opens.

  The Indians, whom people insist so wrongly, in our opinion, inregarding as savages, have certain customs which display a thoroughknowledge of the human heart. The Comanches, who appear to rememberthat in old times they enjoyed a far advanced civilization, haveretained the largest amount of those customs which are, certainly,stamped with originality.

  One day in the month of February, which they call _the Moon of theArriving Eagles_, and in the year 1795 or 1796, a village of the RedCow tribe was in a state of extraordinary agitation. The hachesto, orpublic speaker, mounted on the roof of a lodge, summoned the warriorsfor the seventh hour of the day to the village square, near the arkof the first man, where a grand council would be held. The warriorsasked each other in vain the purport of this unforeseen meeting, but noone could tell them: the hachesto himself was ignorant, and they wereobliged to await the hour of assembling, although the comments andsuppositions still went on to a great extent.

  The Redskins, whom badly-informed authors represent to us as cold,silent men, are, on the contrary, very gay, and remarkable gossips whentogether. What has caused the contrary supposition is, that in theirrelations with white men the Indians are, in the first place, checkedby the difficulties of the language--equally insurmountable, by theway, for both parties--and next by the distrust which every Americannative feels towards Europeans, whoever they may be, owing to theinveterate hatred that separates the two races.

  During our lengthened residence among Indian tribes we often hadopportunities for noticing what mistakes are made with respect to theRedskins. During their long evening gossips in the villages, or thehunting expeditions, there was a rolling fire of jokes and witticisms,often lasting whole hours, to the great delight of the audience, wholaughed that hearty Indian laugh, without care or afterthought, whichcleaves the mouth to the ears, and draws tears of delight,--a laughwhich, for metallic resonance, can only be compared with that ofnegroes, though the former is far more spiritual than the latter, whosenotes have ever something bestial about them.

  Toward the decline of day, the hour selected for the meeting, thevillage square presented a most animated appearance. The warriors,women, children, and dogs, those inseparable guests of the Redskins,pressed round a large circle left empty in the centre for thecouncil fire, near which the principal chiefs of the nation crouchedceremoniously. At a sign from an old sachem whose hair, white assilver, fell in a cloud on his shoulders, the pipe bearer brought inthe great calumet, the stem of which he presented to each chief inturn, while holding the bowl in the palm of his hand. When all thechiefs had smoked, the pipe bearer turned the calumet to the fourcardinal points, while murmuring mysterious words which no one heard;then he emptied the ash into the fire, saying aloud,--

  "Chiefs, warriors, women, and children of the Red Cow, your sachems areassembled to judge a very grave question; pray to the Master of Life toinspire them with wise words."

  Then the pipe bearer, after bowing respectfully to the chiefs,withdrew, taking the calumet with him. The council began, and, at asign from the aged sachem, a chief rose, and bowing, took the word:--

  "Venerated sachems, chiefs, and warriors of my nation," he said, in aloud voice, "the mission with which I am entrusted is painful to myheart: listen to me indulgently, be not governed by passion; but letjustice alone preside over the severe decree which you will, perhaps,be compelled to pronounce. The mission which I am entrusted with ispainful, I repeat; it fills my heart with sadness: I am compelled toaccuse before you two renowned chiefs belonging to two illustriousfamilies, who have, with equal claims, deserved well of the nation onmany occasions by rendering it signal services; these chiefs, as I mustname them before you, are the Bounding Panther, and the Sparrow Hawk."

  On hearing these names, so well known and justly esteemed, pronounced,a shudder of astonishment and pain ran though the crowd. But, at a signfrom the oldest chief, silence was almost immediately re-established,and the chief continued--

  "How is it that a cloud has suddenly passed over the mind of these twowarriors, and tarnished their intellect to such an extent, that thesetwo men, who so long loved one another as brothers, whose friendshipwas cited among the nation, have suddenly become implacable enemies,so that, when they see each other, their eyes flash lightning, andtheir hands seek their weapons to commit murder? No one can say;no one knows it; these chiefs, when interrogated by the sachems,maintained an obstinate silence, instead of revealing the causes oftheir cruel enmity, which brings trouble and desolation on the tribe.Such a scandal must not last longer; tolerating it would be giving apernicious example to our children! Sachems, chiefs, and warriors, inthe name of justice, I demand that these irreconcilable enemies shouldbe eternally banished from the tribe this very evening at sunset. Ihave spoken. Have I said well, powerful men?"

  The chief sat down amid a mournful silence in this assembly of nearlytwo thousand people; the beating of their sorrow-laden hearts mightalmost be heard, such sustained attention did each one give to thewords pronounced in the council.

  "Has any chief any observation to offer on the accusation which hasjust been brought?" the old sachem said, in a weak voice, which was,however, perfectly heard in every part of the square. A member of thecouncil rose.

  "I take the word," he said, "not to refute Tiger Cat's accusation,for unfortunately all he has said is most scrupulously correct; farfrom exaggerating facts, he has, with that goodness and wisdom whichreside in him, weakened the odiousness of that hatred; I only wish tooffer a remark to my brothers. The chiefs are guilty, that is only toofully proved; a longer discussion on that point would be tedious; but,as Tiger Cat himself told us, with that loyalty which distinguisheshim, these two men are renowned chiefs, chosen warriors, and they haverendered the nation signal services; we all love and cherish them fordifferent reasons; let us be severe, but not cruel; let us not drivethem from among us as unclean creatures; before striking, let us makeone more attempt to reconcile them; this last step, taken in thepresence of the whole nation, will, doubtlessly, touch their hearts,and we shall have the happiness of keeping two illustrious chiefs. Ifthey remain deaf to our prayers, if our observations do not obtain thesuccess we desire, then, as the case will be without a remedy, let usbe implacable; put an end to this scandal which has lasted too long,and, as Tiger Cat asked, drive them for ever from our nation, whichthey dishonour. I have spoken. Have I said well, powerful men?"

  After bowing to the sachems, the chief resumed his seat in the midstof a murmur of satisfaction, produced by his hearty language. Althoughthese two speeches were contained in the programme of the ceremony,and everyone knew what the result of the meeting would be, theunreconciled chiefs had so much sympathy among the nation, that manypersons still hoped they would be reconciled at the last moment, whenthey saw themselves on the point of being banished. The strangest thingconnected with the hatred between the two men was, that the reason ofit was completely unknown, and no one knew how to account for it. Whensilence was restored, the oldest sachem, after a consultation with hiscolleagues in a low voice, took the word.

  "Let the Bounding Panther and the Sparrowhawk be introduced to ourpresence."

  At the two opposite corners of the square, the crowd parted likeoverripe fruit, and left a passage for a small band of warriors, inthe centre of which the two accused men walked. When they met, theyremained perfectly calm, a slight arching of the eyebrows being theonly sign of emotion they displayed. They were each about twenty-fiveyears of age, well built, and active, and of martial aspect. They woretheir grand costume and war paint, but their weapons were carriedby their respective friends. They presented themselves before thecouncil with great respect and modesty, which the assembly approved ofheartily. After looking at them with
a glance at once sorrowful andbenevolent, the eldest sachem rose with an effort, and, supported bytwo of his colleagues, who held him under the arms, he at length spokein a weak voice.

  "Warriors, my beloved children," he said, "from the spot where youstood you heard the accusation brought against you; what have you tosay in your defence?--are those words true? do you really entertainthis irreconcilable hatred to each other? Speak."

  The two chiefs bowed their heads silently. The sachem continued--

  "My cherished children, I was already very old, when your mother, achild, whose birth I also saw, brought you into the world. I was thefirst to teach you the use of those weapons, which later became soterrible in your vigorous hands. Now that I am about to sleep theeternal sleep, only to wake again in the happy hunting grounds, giveme a supreme consolation which will make me the happiest of men, andrepay me for all the sorrow you have caused me. Come, children, you areyoung and adventurous, love alone ought to find a place in your hearts;hatred is a passion belonging to a ripe age, it does not become youth;offer one another those honest hands, embrace, like the two brothersyou are, and let all be eternally forgotten between you. I implore you,my children; you cannot resist the prayers of an old man so near thetomb as I am."

  There was a moment of supreme anxiety in the crowd; all waited withpanting hearts for what was about to happen. The two chiefs directed atender glance at the old sachem, who regarded them with tears in hiseyes, then turned towards each other; their lips trembled, as if theywished to speak; a nervous tremor agitated their bodies, but no soundpassed their lips; their arms remained inert by their sides.

  "Answer," the old man continued, "yes or no. You must; I command it."

  "No," they replied together, in a hoarse though firm voice.

  The sachem drew himself up.

  "It is well," he said. "As no generous feeling remains in your hearts,as hatred has eaten them up entirely, and you are no longer men butmonsters, listen to the irrevocable sentence which your sachems, yourequals, your relations, and friends pronounce upon you. The nationrejects you from its bosom; you are no longer children of our tribe.Fire and water are refused you on the hunting ground of your nation,we no longer know you. Chiefs who answer for you with their headswill lead you twenty-five leagues from the village; you, BoundingPanther, in a southern, and you, Sparrowhawk, in a northern direction;you are forbidden, under penalty of death, ever to set your foot againon the territory of your nation; each of you will take one of thesearrows, painted of diverse colours, which will serve as a passportwith the tribes through which you pass. Seek a nation to adopt you,for henceforth you have neither country nor family. Go, accursed ones!these arrows are the last presents you will receive from your brothers.Go, and may the Master of Life soften your tiger hearts! As for us, weknow you no more. I have spoken. Have I said well, powerful men?"

  The old man sat down again in the midst of general emotion; he veiledhis face with the skirt of his buffalo robe, and wept. The two chiefstottered away like drunken men, led to opposite corners of the squareby their friends. They passed through the ranks of their countrymen,bowed down by the maledictions showered on them as they passed.

  At the extremity of the village, horses were awaiting them. Theygalloped off, still followed by their escort. When each arrived at thespot where he was to be left, the warriors dismounted, threw their armson the ground, and went off at full speed. Not a word had been utteredduring the long ride, which lasted fourteen hours.

  We will follow the Sparrowhawk: as for the Bounding Panther, no oneever knew what became of him; his traces were so completely lost, thatit was impossible to find them again. The Sparrowhawk was a man oftried courage and energy; still, finding himself alone, abandoned byall those he had loved, a momentary feeling of discouragement and coldrage almost turned him mad. But his pride soon revolted, he wrestledwith his sorrow, and after allowing his horse to take its necessaryrest, he set out boldly.

  He wandered about at hazard for many a month, following no precisedirection, living by the chase, caring very little where he stopped, orthe people with whom chance might bring him in contact. One day, aftera long and perilous chase after an elk, which by a species of fatalityhe could not catch up, he suddenly found himself before a dead horse.He looked around him: no great distance off lay a sword, near which wasa corpse, easily recognizable as that of a European by the dress.

  Sparrowhawk felt his curiosity excited; with that sagacity peculiar tothe Indians, he began ferreting about in every direction. His searchwas almost immediately crowned with success; he saw, at the foot of atree, an old man with greyish hair and wild beard, dressed in tatteredclothes, and lying motionless. The Indian quickly went up to examinethe condition of the stranger, and try to restore him, if he were notdead. The first thing Sparrowhawk did was to lay his hand on the heartof the man he wished to succour. The heart beat, but so feebly, itseemed as if it must soon stop. All the Indians are to a certain extentdoctors, that is to say, they possess a knowledge of certain plants, bymeans of which they often effect really wonderful cures.

  While trying to restore the stranger, the Indian examined himattentively. Though his hair was beginning to turn grey, the man wasstill young, not more than forty to forty-five; he was tall andwell-built; his forehead was wide and high; his nose aquiline; hismouth large, and his chin square. His clothes, though in rags, werewell cut and made of fine cloth, which plainly showed that he mustbelong to a better class of society--the reader will understand thatthese delicate distinctions escaped the notice of the Indian--heonly saw a man of intelligent appearance, and on the point of death;and though he belonged to the white race, a race which, like all hiscountrymen, he detested, and for good reasons--at the sight of suchdistress, he forgot his antipathy, and only thought of helping him.

  Near the stranger there lay, in confusion on the grass, a surgeon'spocketbook, a brace of pistols, a gun, a sabre, and an open book.For a long time Sparrowhawk's efforts met with no success, and hewas despairing whether he could raise the dying man to life, when atransient glow suffused his face, and his heart began beating morequickly and strongly. Sparrowhawk made a gesture of delight at thisunexpected success. It was almost incredible! This warrior, whose wholelife had been hitherto spent in waging war of ambushes and surpriseswith the whites, and committing the most refined cruelties on theunhappy Spaniards who fell into his hands, now rejoiced at recalling tolife this individual, who, to him, was a natural enemy.

  In a few minutes the stranger slowly opened his eyes, but he closedthem again at once, as the light probably dazzled them. Sparrowhawk didnot lose heart, and resolved to carry out a good work so well begun.His expectations were not deceived: the stranger presently opened hiseyes again; he made an effort to rise, but was too weak, his strengthfailed him, and he fell back again. The Indian then gently supportedhim, and seated him against the trunk of the catalpa, at whose foot hehad been hitherto lying. The stranger thanked him by a sign, mutteringone word, _beber_ (drink).

  The Comanches, whose life is passed in periodical excursions into theSpanish territory, know a few words of that language. Sparrowhawk spokeit rather fluently. He seized the gourd hanging to his saddle bow, andwhich he had filled two hours before, and put it to the stranger'slips; so soon as he had tasted the water, he began swallowing it inheavy gulps. But the Indian, fearing an accident, soon took the gourdfrom his lips. The stranger wished to drink again.

  "No," he said, "my father is too weak, he must eat something first."

  The patient smiled, and pressed his hand. The Indian rose joyfully;took from his provision bag some fruit, and handed it to the man.Through these attentions the stranger was sufficiently recovered,within an hour, to get up. He then explained to Sparrowhawk, in badSpanish, that he and one of his friends were travelling together, thattheir horses died of fatigue, while themselves could procure nothing toeat or drink in the desert. The result was, that his friend died in hisarms only the previous day, after frightful suffering, and he shouldhave prob
ably shared the same fate, had not his lucky star, or ratherProvidence, sent him help.

  "Good," the Indian replied, when the stranger ended his narrative, "myfather is now strong, I will lasso a horse, and lead him to the firsthabitation of the men of his own colour."

  At this proposition the stranger frowned; a look of hatred and haughtycontempt was legible on his face.

  "No," he said; "I will not return to the men of my colour, they haverejected and persecuted me, I hate them; I wish to live henceforward inthe desert."

  "Wah!" the Indian exclaimed, in surprise, "has my father no nation?"

  "No," he answered, "I am alone, without country, relatives, or friends;the sight of a man of my colour excites me to hatred and contempt; allare ungrateful, I will live far from them."

  "Good," the Indian said; "I, too, am rejected by my nation; I, too, amalone; I will remain with my father--I will be his son."

  "What?" the stranger ejaculated, fancying he had misunderstood him, "Isit possible? Does banishment also exist among your wandering tribes?You, like myself, are abandoned by those of your race and blood, andcondemned to remain alone--alone for ever?"

  "Yes," Sparrowhawk said, sorrowfully, bowing his head.

  "Oh!" the stranger said, directing a glance of strange meaning towardheaven, "oh, men! they are the same everywhere, cruel, unnatural, andheartless!"

  He walked about for a few moments, muttering certain words in alanguage the Indian did not understand; then he returned quickly tohim, and pressing his hand, said, with feverish energy:--

  "Well, then, I accept your proposition; our fate is the same, and weought not to separate again. Victims both of the spite of man, we willlive together; you have saved my life, Redskin; at the first impulse Iwas vexed at it, but now I thank Providence, as I can still do good,and force men to blush at their ingratitude."

  This speech was far too full of philosophic precepts for Sparrowhawkthoroughly to understand it; still, he caught its sense, that wasenough for him, as he was too glad to find in his companion a manafflicted by similar misfortunes to his own.

  "Let my father open his ears," he said; "he will remain here while I goand find a horse for him; there are many manadas in the neighbourhood,and I shall soon have what we want; my father will be patient duringSparrowhawk's absence. I will leave him food and drink."

  "Go," the stranger said; and two hours later the Indian returned with amagnificent steed.

  Several days were then spent in vagabond marches, though each took themdeeper into the desert. The stranger seemed afraid of meeting whitemen; but with the exception of the story he had told of his narrowescape from death, he maintained an obstinate silence as to his pastlife. The Indian knew not then who he was, nor why he had ventured sofar into the desert at the risk of perishing. Each time Sparrowhawkasked him any details about his life he turned the conversation, andthat so adroitly, that the Indian could never bring him back to thestarting point. One day, as they were rambling along side by side,talking, Sparrowhawk, who was rather vexed at the slight confidence thestranger placed in him, asked categorically--

  "My father was a great chief in his nation?"

  The stranger smiled sorrowfully.

  "Perhaps," he answered; "but now I am nothing."

  "My father is mistaken," the Indian said, seriously; "the warriors ofhis nation may not have valued him, but he still remains the same."

  "All that is smoke," the stranger replied. "The love of country is thegreatest and noblest passion the Master of Life has placed in the heartof man--my father had a revered name among his people."

  The stranger frowned, and his face assumed an expression the Indian hadnever seen before.

  "My name is a curse," he said, "no one will hear it uttered again; ithas been like a brand seared on my forehead by the partisans of the manwhom I, humble as I am, helped to overthrow."

  Sparrowhawk made a gesture of supreme disdain.

  "The chief of the nation must return to his warriors: if he betraysthem, they are masters of his scalp," he said, in a firm voice.

  The stranger, surprised at being so well understood by this primitiveman, smiled proudly.

  "In demanding his head," he said, "I staked my own; I wished to save mycountry. Who can blame me?"

  "No one," Sparrowhawk replied, quickly; "every warrior must die."

  There was a lengthened silence; Sparrowhawk was the first to break it.

  "We are destined," he said, "to live long days together, my fatherwishes his name to remain unknown, and I will not insist on knowing it;still, we cannot wander about at hazard, we must find a tribe to adoptus, men to recognize us as brothers."

  "For what purpose?"

  "To be strong and everywhere respected: we owe it to our brothers, asthey owe it to us; life is only a loan which the Master of Life makesus, on the condition that it is profitable to those who surround us. Bywhat name shall I present my father to the men from whom we may askasylum and protection?"

  "By any you please, my son; as I am no longer to hear my own, any otheris a matter of indifference to me."

  Sparrowhawk reflected for an instant.

  "My father is strong," he said, "his scalp is beginning to resemble thesnows of winter, he will henceforth be called the White Buffalo."

  "The White Buffalo; be it so," the stranger answered, with a sigh;"that name is as good as another; perhaps I shall thus escape theweapons of those who have sworn my death."

  The Indian, charmed at knowing how henceforth to call his friend, thensaid to him, joyfully--

  "In a few days we shall reach a village of Blood Indians or Kenhas,where we shall be received as if we were sons of the nation; my fatheris wise, I am strong, the Kenhas will be happy to receive us; courage,old father! this country of adoption will be, perhaps, worth your own."

  "France, farewell!" the stranger uttered, in a choking voice.

  Four days later they reached the village of the Kenhas, where afriendly reception was given them.

  "Well," Sparrowhawk said to his companion, after they had been adoptedaccording to all the Indian rites, "what does my father think? Is hehappy?"

  "I fancy," the other said, with a melancholy air, "that nothing canrestore the exile the country he has lost."