CHAPTER XXVII.
THE CHIEF'S PROPOSAL.
Ordinarily Indians do not travel by night, and it requiredcircumstances imperious as the present for the chief to resolve thus toinfringe the customs of the redskins. In truth, Don Melchior's flightcaused him great anxiety about the success of his expedition, and hewas anxious to cross the Indian border, as he felt persuaded thatonce he had passed the river which served as the limit of the Spanishpossessions, and trod his native heath in a country all whose hidingplaces were familiar to him, he would be comparatively safe from thepursuit which would not fail to be begun so soon as the abduction ofthe two ladies was known, and that would not be long first if, as hefeared, Don Melchior had succeeded in escaping.
The Indians galloped the whole night through in the direction of theriver, whose yellow waters at length became visible at sunrise. Withouteven stopping to breathe the horses, tired by so long a gallop alongdifficult and scarcely marked tracks, the chief ordered his warriors toford the river immediately.
During the whole of the sad night, which seemed as if it would neverend, Dona Emilia held to her bosom the head of her daughter, who wascrushed by so much emotion and terror. Not for an instant did thecourage of this extraordinary woman and true mother fail her. Not for asecond did her noble character break down. She remained ever calm andimpassive, not uttering a word of complaint, or showing the fatiguethat overpowered her. The very Indians, who are such connoisseurs ofcourage, could not refrain from secretly admiring this firmness of mindand perfect self-denial.
Although the river was very wide at the spot where the redskins fordedit, it was crossed without accident, and the Comanches at length foundthemselves on Indian territory. The detachment, however, did not halt;for the distance that separated them from the white men was not yetsufficiently great for the Stag. He led his warriors to a forest aboutfour or five leagues off, whose tall trees formed a belt of foliage onthe horizon. During the whole journey the chief constantly galloped atthe head of the detachment, not appearing to trouble himself in anyway about his prisoners, though the deep wrinkles that furrowed hisbrow and his constant frown might have led to the supposition that thisindifference was feigned, and that he was thinking out some bold plan.
At about two in the afternoon the little band reached the outskirts ofthe forest, and boldly rode beneath its covert. The journey then becamemore difficult, and, before all, more fatiguing, through the roots,shrubs, and lianas which at each instant barred the passage, and whichthe horses could only clear with the utmost difficulty.
The Stag, however, without neglecting entirely the precautionsemployed by the Indians when they are on the war trail, in order tothrow out their enemies, felt so certain, however, that the white menwould not venture into the formidable solitudes of Apacheria, owing tothe innumerable obstacles which would rise at each step before them,and, above all, through their ignorance of the topography of thiscountry, the last lurking place of the Indian braves, that he wastedbut little time in masking his trail, and continued to advance almostin a straight line.
After marching thus for about two hours, crossing ravines and scalinghills, they reached a completely unwooded spot, over which werescattered shapeless ruins, proving that at a doubtless extremely remoteperiod the place had been inhabited. These ruins, spread over a veryconsiderable space, preserved a certain degree of symmetry; the walls,still standing, showed by their thickness and the care with which theywere built, as well as materials employed, that an important town musthave stood here once on a time. In the centre stood a _teocali_ whichtime had respected, on the top of which were the ruins of a temple,whose vast and massive proportions testified to its ancient splendour,which was now eternally fled. There was something at once gloomy andmajestic in the sight of these ruins suddenly rising in the midst of avirgin forest. They were the last traces of a forgotten world, whosememory the present inhabitants of the country have lost, and trample ontheir dust with a careless foot.
The Stag had selected these ruins to camp in. The warriors thereforeestablished themselves in this city, probably founded by the Chichimecsat the period when, compelled by the hand of God, they performedtheir great migration, building in the course of their mysterioushalts those formidable cities whose imposing ruins are still visiblein different parts of New Spain. The Comanches during their vagabondrambles about the desert had many times camped at this solitary spot,whose strong position offered them a shelter against the attacks oftheir numerous enemies, men and wild beasts, that incessantly prowlabout in search of a facile prey. It was at the summit of the teocali,in the ruins of the temple, which had heard the death cries of manyvictims offered as a holocaust to the implacable and sanguinaryHiutzilopochtli, the god of war, that the chief resolved to establishhis camp.
When the horses had been hobbled in an excavation at the foot of theteocali, the warriors placed the prisoners in their midst, scaled thebramble and cactus covered steps that led to the top of the artificialhill, and on reaching the temple, after lighting several fires toprepare their meal, they cut down a quantity of branches, which theyintertwined so as to form a species of roof over one of the halls ofthe temple. There, at a signal from the chief, the two ladies wereinstalled, who, however precarious this shelter might be, were gladto take refuge in it, and escape for awhile from the stern glances oftheir ferocious conquerors, and recover from the terrible shock theyhad endured.
Dona Emilia's first care so soon as she was alone with her daughter,whose weakness was extreme, was to lay her on a pile of furs whichthe chief, doubtless through a feeling of compassion, had ordered tobe placed by the fire. The state in which the young lady was, wasreally alarming. The prostration which had fallen on her after thesnare to which she had fallen victim, was succeeded by a violent fevermingled with delirious and nervous attacks, which not only threatenedher reason, but caused apprehensions for her life; at any rate therewas reason to fear that her health would never entirely recover fromthe shock given to her system by the terror she had felt, and theextraordinary fatigue she had endured during nearly twenty hours; inspite of the sort of brutal gallantry with which the chief had tried tocome to her help by ordering his men not to hurry, and by trying notonly to pay the captives the attentions of which his rough characterwas capable, but by giving them all the relief he was able to offerthem under the circumstances.
Dona Emilia did not know what means she should employ to calm herdaughter's terrifying nervous excitement. Alone among savages, whom shejustly regarded as implacable foes, wanting the remedies which werenecessary for her poor child, she could only groan and hold her to herheart to prevent her dashing her head against the wall in one of thesenervous attacks. Dona Emilia passed the whole night without sleep,constantly watching over the girl whose madness had assumed a startlingcharacter, and who no longer recognizing her mother, and unconsciousof the place where she was, made the strangest remarks to her, andasked her the most singular questions with that volubility which feverproduces.
Toward the close of night, at the moment when the stars began todisappear, the girl's frenzy gradually diminished; she closed hereyes and fell into a sleep which restored her poor mother a littlehope and courage. At sunrise an Indian came in, placed provisionson the ground, laid a packet of simples by Dona Emilia's side, andwithdrew without uttering a word. Several hours elapsed in this way;the redskins, while attentively watching their captives, left themconstantly alone, supplying them all they required with a speciesof affectionate eagerness, but not troubling them with indiscreetquestions or disagreeable intrusions into the refuge given them. Sincetheir arrival at the teocali the chief had not presented himself tothem, but seemed, on the contrary, desirous to remain invisible, whilepaying them attentions which revealed an assiduous care on his part.
Dona Diana's condition had visibly improved, nature, youth, andher powerful constitution had, after a trying struggle, eventuallytriumphed over the disease. Nursed by her mother with attentivetenderness, she at length became convalescent; but wi
th health sorrowre-entered her mind, and the frightful position in which fatality hadplaced her appeared in all its horrible reality. She did not darereflect on the future, for, alas, that was perhaps a terrible deathamid torture, or dishonour a hundredfold worse than death. Hence agloomy sorrow took possession of the maiden. She spent her days leaningover the wall, and with her eyes fixed on the imposing landscape thatsurrounded her looked despairingly around her, while burning tears,which she did not even think of drying, coursed slowly down her pale,thinned cheeks.
Mother and daughter remained thus side by side, not daring toconfide to each other their terrible thoughts, awaiting the comingcatastrophe which it was impossible for them to foresee or avoid. Daysthus succeeded days without producing any change in their position;nothing had revealed to them the fate which the Comanches reservedfor them, when on the morning of the tenth day after their arrival atthe teocali, the Indian who seemed specially told off to watch themand supply them with food, informed them that the chief had arrivedon the previous evening at the teocali, on his return from a distantexpedition he had been obliged to make, and asked permission to speakto them after breakfast. On hearing this request, which was, however,made very politely, Dona Diana turned pale and shuddered with horror;she understood that her fate would depend on this interview, and spiteof herself she trembled. Dona Emilia smiled ironically.
"Why pretend such great courtesy to captives?" she replied bitterly."Is not your chief our master? As far as I am aware a master does notrequire to announce his coming to his slaves."
"The sachem ordered his warrior to speak as he has done," the Indianmade answer. "The warrior has obeyed; my mother must not be angry withhim."
"I am not angry with you, Indian," she said, less rudely, desiring notto alienate this man, who, ever since he served them, had displayed aspecies of rough pity. "I do not at all think of making you responsiblefor orders which you must neither discuss nor hesitate to carry out;still I will remark to you that as we are the prisoners of your sachem,as you term him, we have no means to avoid the interview he requests,and that, consequently, it is unnecessary for him to ask a permissionwhich he can very well do without."
"Good! My mother speaks well; hence the sachem may come afterbreakfast?"
"He can come when he thinks proper. We will receive him, as he desiresit."
The Indian went out, and the two ladies were left alone. "We aregoing to know our fate at last," Dona Emilia said, with a feignedindifference she was far from feeling.
"Yes," her daughter replied sorrowfully. "Heaven grant that a feelingof pity may still reside in the heart of this savage, and that thepropositions he makes us may not be of such a nature that we mustdecline them."
"Heaven grant it, indeed, my daughter! Alas, who knows what fatereserves for us! Perhaps you will regret that you did not die duringyour illness." The girl remained silent for a moment, and then a gloomysmile played round her pale lips.
"Mother," she asked, "have you kept your vial?"
"Yes," Dona Emilia answered; "it still contains enough to kill us both."
"In that case rejoice, mother," the maiden answered, almost gaily, "wehave nothing more to fear! Whatever proposition this crafty chief maymake to us, we are always certain of getting out of his clutches, andfinding refuge in death."
"It is well, daughter!" Dona Emilia replied, as she took Diana in herarms, and pressed her passionately to her heart.
So great is the effect that a powerful resolution always produces,that the two ladies awaited the chief's coming more calmly than theyhad hoped. They had scarce finished breakfast ere he appeared. Themajordomo had, for this interview, doffed his Indian dress, and resumedthat of the Mexican campesinos. This change denoted a resolution formedthat he would allow no consideration to stop him. On recognizing himthe two ladies uttered a cry, of surprise on the part of Diana, butof terror on that of her mother. She had discovered what she longsuspected, that is to say, that her husband's majordomo was a traitor.On entering, he bowed to the ladies with ironical politeness; his facewas smiling, his manner firm, and his voice coaxing.
"I venture to hope, senoras," he said, "that you will pardon a poorIndian."
"Oh," Dona Emilia said bitterly, "what a viper we have cherished!"
"Alas! Madam," he answered lightly, "why employ such ugly epithets?Everybody in this world is obliged to bow before necessity. It was not,be assured, of my own accord that I have so long remained a stranger toyou."
"You are, then, really the chief of the men who carried us off, and itwas you probably who prepared the odious snare into which we fell?"
"I will not attempt to deny it, madam," he said.
"What harm have I done you, who have been, living for more than twentyyears beneath my roof, where you were taken in through charity; youwhom my husband loves and places entire confidence in?"
"A confidence which I still possess, madam. But why lose our time invain discussions? The open step I have taken must prove to you that mymind is irrevocably made up, and that I shall not hesitate or recoil inthe execution of the plan I have formed."
"What you are doing is horrible; you requite with the blackestingratitude the kindness with which my family has overwhelmed you."
"That is the very word, madam," he said, with a bitter smile; "but inorder to cut short useless recriminations, and lay down the questiondistinctly, let me make a confession which will establish our positionto each other."
"Speak, speak! What frightful revelation have you to make to me?"
"I, madam," he replied, drawing himself up majestically, and fixing onher a fiendish glance, "am the son of Running Water, the Chief of thetribe of Red Buffaloes, whom your family so cowardly and obstinatelyhunted down. Do you now understand why I hate you, and why you arehere?"
"Oh!" she shrieked, clasping her hands in despair, "We are lost."
Dona Diana was annihilated; she fancied it was all a fearful dream.
"No, madam," he replied in his calm and metallic voice, "your safety isin your own hands."
"My safety?" she asked ironically.
"Yes, madam, your safety. You are really conscious of the situation inwhich you are, I assume? You are thoroughly convinced that you are inmy power, and that no human help can save you?"
"Yes, but God remains--God, who sees, and will save us," she exclaimedfervently, "God who will foil your odious machinations!"
"God!" he said, with a hoarse laugh. "You forget, madam, that I ama Comanche, and that your God is not mine. Bow your head before thefatality that crushes you. Your God, if He exist, is powerless againstme. I deride his power!"
"Silence, blasphemer! The God you dare to defy can, if He pleases,crush you in a moment."
"Let Him do so then, and I will believe in Him." And he raised his headand looked up defiantly at the heavens. "But, no," he added a momentafter, "all these things are falsehoods invented by the priests to holdmen in awe. You are here in my power, I repeat, and no power, human ordivine, will liberate you; but, as I said, it is easy for you to leavethis place in freedom within an hour, if you please."
"After insult, mockery, that is the right way," she said contemptuously.
"I am no more mocking you now than I insulted you before; I am speakingfrankly, and offering you an honourable bargain, which you can acceptor refuse as you please."
"A bargain," she murmured in a hollow voice.
"Yes," he continued, "a bargain; and why not? Listen to me. I hate yourfamily, madam, with all the hatred that a human heart can hold; but youpersonally never offended me, and I have, therefore, no reason to wishyou harm. Then, there is another thing which pleads in your favour; whyshould I conceal it any longer? I love your daughter."
"Villain!" Dona Emilia exclaimed, as she rose and walked toward him.
Dona Diana threw herself wildly into her mother's arms, and buried herface in her hands, crying desperately.
"Mother, mother, save me!"
"Fear nothing, daughter," she replied; "this man can in
sult us, but hewill never succeed in humiliating us to his own level."
The Indian listened to these words without a muscle of his facequivering.
"I expected this outburst," he said calmly; "but you will reflect; Irepeat that I love your daughter, and intend her to be mine."
"Never," the two ladies exclaimed desperately.
"At that price alone," he continued stoically, "you will be free; ifnot, prepare for death."
"Yes, yes," Dona Emilia burst forth passionately, "yes, we will die,but both by our own will. Ah! You feel very certain of the success ofyour odious plot, but you have calculated badly, villain; the deathwith which you threaten us, we invoke as the supreme refuge left us.You are masters of our life, but not of our death. We defy you."
The Indian burst into a laugh.
"Look at your vial," he said, in his calm, cutting tone, "it no longercontains any acid. Yesterday some harmless soporifics were mixed withyour food, and, during your sleep, you were robbed of the formidableweapon in which you had trusted rather too prematurely. Believe me,madam, you had better yield. I give you eight days to reflect; it wouldbe easy for me to carry off your daughter, but I prefer receiving hervoluntarily from you."
He accompanied these remarks with a mocking laugh, and left the room,without waiting for an answer, which the two unhappy women could nothave given him, so annihilated were they by the frightful revelationwhich had just been made to them.
The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War Page 32
