CHAPTER XXII.
THE WAR TRAIL.
The principal sachems of the tribe, collected at the entrance of themedicine lodge, were present at the departure of the warriors. Twobands, each composed of twenty braves, were drawn up side by side. Atthe head of the first stood the Stag, haughtily bestriding his horse,which was painted and accoutred in the Comanche fashion, so that it wasquite as difficult to recognize as its rider. An ill-restrained delightglistened in the chief's fierce eyes. At the head of the second troop,composed of more aged and calm warriors, were Running Water and WhiteCrow.
The women, children, and warriors who were to remain at home crowdedthe square. A deep silence, apparently caused by the expectation of animportant event, prevailed among them. At the end of an instant thesachems assembled before the medicine lodge moved on one side, and madeway for a man dressed in garments of strange shape, in which the moststartling and discordant colours were brought together. This man wasthe sorcerer, or medicine man, of the tribe.
His step was imposing and haughty; his expressive face displayedenthusiasm and faith. In one hand he held a clumsy vessel, in which atuft of wormwood was soaking; in the other he brandished a scalpingknife. On reaching the centre of the square he stopped at an equaldistance from the two troops, in front of a fire lighted expressly forthe occasion. He stood for a moment motionless, with his head droopingon his chest, murmuring a few words in a low and indistinct voice;then he took out the wormwood, and sprinkled the four cardinal points,exclaiming, as he did so--
"Wacondah! Thou seest these warriors; be favourable to them, blindtheir enemies, and remove any snares from their path!"
After uttering these words, he deposited the vessel on the ground, feltin the parchment bag that hung by his side, and drew out a handful ofmoriche, which he dropped slowly into the fire, saying--
"Receive this offering, Wacondah! And let us know thy designs."
And, still continuing to drop the tobacco, he began dancing roundthe fire, brandishing his knife, and making strange contortions andgrimaces. By degrees, his features altered, a white foam issued fromthe corners of his mouth, his hair stood on end, his eyes seemed readyto spring from their sockets, and he shouted in a hoarse and pantingvoice--
"I see them! I see them!"
"What does my father see?" the Stag asked, with ill-disguised anxiety;for, in spite of his Mexican education, or, perhaps, owing to it, hewas like all his countrymen, and, perhaps, more than they, accessibleto superstitious terrors.
"I see them," the sorcerer continued; "the combat is obstinate; thewomen roll on the ground; they fall into the power of my sons; theyrise again. Why these signs? What mean these demonstrations? Oh, I hearthem!"
"What does my father hear?" the chief asked.
"I hear cries, but the Comanches are implacable. Kill, kill, kill,I say. Why do you hesitate?" All at once he burst into a convulsivelaugh, "Ah, ah, ah! Yes, that is better," he said, with a shriek, "inthat way the vengeance will be more perfect."
In spite of themselves, the hearers felt terrified by this Sataniclaugh, which echoed in their ears like a funeral knell.
"Do not go," the sorcerer continued; "death is there. Leave that enemyalone, for it is not he but you who will succumb. But no; go, for youmust; why, Wacondah, why?"
While uttering these words, the sorcerer suddenly stopped; his voicegrew low and unintelligible; he seemed to listen for a moment, uttereda loud cry, turned round twice or thrice with headlong speed, and fellall his length on the ground, where he writhed for several moments infrightful convulsions. The Indians were struck with terror at thisstrange scene; the sorcerer's gloomy prediction filled them withhorror, they did not dare communicate their thoughts to one another,but remained uncertain and alarmed, while watching the man who writhedbefore them. At length Running Water broke the charm which held allthese impressionable men enthralled, for he felt the discredit whichwould attach to the two expeditions, if the warriors were allowed timeto think.
"Like all the predictions of the medicine man," he said, with a slighttinge of irony, "this contains both good and bad; still I fancy Inoticed that good prevailed, and that, if we have the misfortune tolose one or two of our comrades, we shall at least return loaded withbooty, and dragging prisoners after us."
"I believe I understood that too," White Crow said, to back him up;"the warriors who fall in an expedition are fortunate. The happyhunting grounds are opened to them, and they are led to them by theWacondah."
"Yes," said the Stag, "the prediction is a good one; it announcessuccess."
The versatile mind of the Indians immediately followed the impulsethe chiefs gave it, and soon all the redskins were persuaded that themedicine man's predictions were really excellent, and that the twoexpeditions started under the most favourable auspices. As for the poorsorcerer, he lay on the ground in a state of perfect insensibility, andnone of the persons present dreamed of helping him. Then the two bandsstarted to leave the village, followed by the whole tribe, who madevows for the success of the expedition, and urged them to show no mercyto the enemies they were about to fight; the women were especiallydistinguished by their ferocious cries and repulsive gestures.
For nearly an hour the two bands rode side by side, the three chiefsconversing together in a low voice, and the warriors laughing andsmoking, for they were well aware that they had not yet reached thespot where they would really enter on the war trail and that anyprecautions they now took would be useless. At about two p.m., on asign from their chief, they halted in a narrow valley, by the side ofa stream, whose banks were overshadowed by small clumps of sumachs,larches, and Peru trees. The riders dismounted and carelessly lay downon the ground, leaving to the chiefs the trouble of watching over thecommon safety, if they considered it necessary. The latter had lightedtheir pipes, and were holding council. After a moment's silence,Running Water said, in his grave and calm voice--
"We have reached the ford of the Antelope, and it is here that we shallpart. I will go down the river with my braves, while the Stag reentersthe forest with his warriors. Has my son anything further to say toRunning Water and White Crow? They are listening."
"I have nothing more to say to my father Running Water, or to mybrother White Crow, than what they now already know; the expeditionwe are attempting is perilous, and must be carried out with prudence,not so much, perhaps, on account of our enemies themselves, as of thesuperstitious terrors with which they inspire our warriors."
"I understand the words of my son," the old chief replied; "they areserious. Running Water is renowned for his courage among his brothers;still he would not dare to attack the enemies whom the genius of evilprotects and renders invincible."
The Stag concealed with difficulty a contemptuous smile, which waschecked on his lips by the respect with which his father inspired him.
"Our own weakness partly forms the strength of our enemies," hereplied, shaking his head sorrowfully; "the redskins are brave, butthey are children who put faith in absurd things."
"My son," the old man said, sternly, "contact with the palefaces hasinjured you more than you suppose; without suspecting it, you havecome to discuss the belief of your fathers, and turn it into ridicule.Take care, I repeat, my son; the road you are entering on is a badone--it leads to a precipice; it is better to believe in an absurditythan fall into the contrary excess, and deny all belief. I will notlead my warriors against the persons whom you so obstinately insist onattacking."
"I do not ask it of you, father," the Stag replied, biting his lips inspite; "merely do what we agreed on, and that will be sufficient. I amwilling to assume all the risks and perils of this expedition."
"The Stag is right," White Crow observed; "what danger do we incurin doing what he asks? Besides, even if we tried to prevent it, ourwarriors would not stand before them, but fly. Leave your son to act,Running Water; if on certain points contact with the whites has beeninjurious to him, it is evident that it will prove very useful to himfor many others. He knows bet
ter than we do what is best to be doneunder the circumstances, and since he consents to assume all theresponsibility, let him act as he pleases."
The old man shook his head several times, as if still far from beingconvinced.
"Be it so," he at length said, "since he fancies he has more wisdombeneath his black scalp than those whose hair has grown white atthe council fire; let him act as he thinks proper. His father willhenceforth be dumb, and will not cast the ice of his experience uponthe fire of his ardent youth. Alas! Old customs are dying out. TheComanches are no longer worthy of their ancestors! The poison of thepalefaces has penetrated to their villages. May the Wacondah grant thatI have not lived too long, and that I may not see at an early day theruin of my nation, as I have witnessed the ruin of its old laws andwise and simple customs."
While speaking thus, the old chief rose pensively, and walked slowlytoward his horse, which a warrior was holding by the bridle. White Crowwaited till the sachem was out of earshot, and then bent down to theStag's ear.
"Brother," he said to him, as he seized his arm, "do not be uneasy. Ionly know your plans very imperfectly through the few hints you havedropped in my presence; but, if I am not mistaken, they are of greatimportance. Carry them out, therefore, without fear; if your fatherhesitates to support you, I will oblige him not to break the promise hehas made you."
"Thanks, chief," he answered with emotion, "among all our brothers youalone understand me. Oh, be assured that I shall succeed."
"Yes, I understand you," White Crow said sadly, "perhaps only toowell; but the Wacondah's will be done! He alone can read hearts anddistinguish good from evil. Still, before we part, let me give you onecounsel."
"I will receive it gladly, chief."
"Perhaps so; still I think it my duty to give it you, whether you likeit or not. Here it is, and you can act as you please. The man whowishes to attain a high position among his people must be careful notto substitute private or personal interests for the public interestsintrusted to him. You are too intelligent to fail to understand me.Trust to me. Farewell for the present."
And after discharging this Parthian arrow, the chief went off,apparently not noticing the Stag's confusion. The latter stood for amoment as if stunned by this clear-sighted apostrophe.
"iVoto a brios!" he muttered in Spanish, "Have I been so maladroit asto let these crafty men read my secret thoughts? Oh, it is impossible!Still--nonsense," he added, as he haughtily raised his head, and lookeddefiantly around him, "what do I care after all? If I succeed, eachwill acknowledge me to be right. Does not success justify the mostdesperate enterprises, and this is far from being one."
These reflections seemed to restore him all the confidence and audacitywhich his father's remarks and White Crow's malice had momentarilyshaken, and he walked with a calm look and careless demeanour towardthe two chiefs, who were mounting at the moment, as he wished to takeleave of them before starting. The compliments were short and cold onboth sides, for these three men were eager to separate. Brought up ina different medium, and in ideas diametrically opposed, the Stag andhis two comrades could not understand each other, and the sachems eveninvoluntarily felt an antipathy for their young colleague.
Running Water was right in the remonstrance which he addressed tohis son. Paternal love on one side, on the other his hatred of theMexicans, rendered him clear-sighted. A man, however firm his charactermay be, does not adopt with impunity the customs and habits of menin a more advanced stage of civilization than himself, and pass hischildhood and youth in the midst of the comfort and luxury ignored insavage life, which, while freeing man from physical apprehensions,enlarge his ideas, by giving him the leisure to think and live, nolonger through the senses, but through the heart.
The Stag, destined by his father to serve as the instrument of therevenge which he wished to take on Don Anibal de Saldibar and hisfamily, had been so well trained by Running Water, that his entranceto the hacienda met with no difficulty. The boy had begun by playing along studied part, then, by degrees, without knowing how or why it tookplace, the fiction was converted into a reality, and the Comanche grewto regard almost with terror the moment when he would be compelled toreturn to the independent life of the prairies, and resume the nomadicexistence of his tribe. This repugnance for the customs of his fathersemanated neither from any gratitude he felt for Don Anibal's constantkindness to him, nor from friendship he felt for those who brought himup.
Sotavento was naturally ungrateful, moreover he cordially hated whitemen generally, and his benefactor particularly; but he had quicklygrown accustomed to the life he led; it seemed to him a real paradisein comparison with what awaited him in the desert. By degreesthe faith of his tribe was effaced in his heart, to make room foranother that was wider, and more in accordance with his instincts andappetites; and he regarded the mission with which he had been intrustedas a heavy burden from which he would be delighted to be delivered. Noman is perfect; however strong he may be, he cannot continually havethe same idea of pursuing the same object.
His father's implacable hatred of the white men, which wascomprehensible in the medium in which the chief lived, was not so forhis son; it was only at intervals, when he witnessed an insult dealtto a man of colour, that his Indian blood was revealed in him, andhis hatred was re-kindled. Sotavento was vexed at this indifference;he tried to overcome it by all means, and when he was among his ownpeople, his protestations were made in good faith, for he then believedwhat he said, so much did he desire in his heart that it should betrue. Unfortunately for him, he had scarce returned to the hacienda,ere his ideas completely changed, his resolutions evaporated, and hefelt himself beneath a far more powerful influence, an influence whosestrength was gradually revealed in him, and eventually overpoweredwhatever efforts he might attempt to escape from it.
Under the pressure of the new feeling which mastered him, the Indianfelt all the ferocious instincts of the race to which he belongedaroused in him; from this moment, forgetting all other interests, hehad but one thought--it was to employ, in carrying out successfully thedaring plan he had formed, the confidence he enjoyed among the chiefsand the forces of which he could dispose at a given moment. The hourwhich the Indian had selected for the realization of his project andthe execution of his bold plans had arrived, and he audaciously setto work, without hesitation or without scruple, caring little aboutmarching over corpses, provided that these corpses were so many stepsof a ladder enabling him to attain the extraordinary result he desired.
The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War Page 27
