The Indian Chief: The Story of a Revolution

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE SURPRISE.

  Employing our privilege as romancers, we will go back a little way,and return to Don Cornelio, whom Valentine looked after with suchastonishment when he saw him leave the camp in such an unusual manner.

  In the first place we will say a few words about Don Cornelio, thatjoyous and careless gentleman whom, in the first part of this history,we saw so impassioned for music generally, and the romance del ReyRodrigo in particular. At the present time he was greatly changed: he nolonger sang--the chords of his jarana no longer vibrated under his agilefingers; a deep wrinkle crossed his brow; his cheeks had grown pale;and he frowned incessantly under the pressure of gloomy thoughts. Whatcould have happened? What powerful cause had thus changed the Spaniard'scharacter?

  This cause might be easily guessed. Don Cornelio loved Dona Angela.He loved her with all his strength--we will not say with a true andsincere love, for it was not love at all that he felt for her: anothersentiment, less noble, but perhaps more lively, had craftily entered thegentleman's heart by the side of love.

  This sentiment was avarice. We previously stated that Don Cornelio wasunder the influence of a fixed idea. This idea had led the Spaniard toAmerica. The hidalgo wished to make his fortune by a marriage with alady young, rich, and fair, but, before all, rich. A fixed idea is morethan a passion, more than a monomania: it is the first stage of madness.Many times had Don Cornelio been deceived in his attempts on richAmerican women, whom he sought to dazzle, not by his luxury (for he waspoor as Job, of lamentable memory), but by his personal advantages; thatis to say, his beauty and wit. His meeting with Dona Angela decided hisfate. Persuaded that the young lady loved him, he began to love her, forhis part, with the frenzy of the drowning man, for whom such a love wasthe only chance of salvation.

  When he perceived his error it was too late. We will do him the justiceof conceding that the poor gentleman had struggled valiantly to tearfrom his heart this insensate passion. Unfortunately all his effortswere futile, and, as ever happens under such circumstances, forgettingall he owed to Don Louis, who had saved him not only from misery, butalso from death, he felt for the count an intense hatred, the moretenacious because it was dumb and concentrated; and, by a naturalfeeling, he turned one half of that hatred on Dona Angela, although theyoung lady and the count had only been the instruments, throughout theaffair, of that fatality which was so bitter against him.

  Thus, with extreme patience and unexampled hypocrisy, Don Cornelioprepared his vengeance against these two beings, who had never done himaught but kindness, and watched with the perfidy of a wild beast theopportunity to destroy them. This opportunity would not be difficult tofind in a country where treachery is the order of the day, and forms thebasis of all combinations and transactions, of whatever nature they maybe.

  Don Cornelio had entered into relations with the enemies of the count,and surrendered to them the secrets the latter allowed to let slip inhis presence. He had so arranged as to make his two foes fall into atrap from which they could not escape, and in wreathing round them anet from which extrication would be impossible. And now that we haveexplained Don Cornelio's feelings to the reader we will proceed with ournarrative.

  The Spaniard had succeeded in drawing over to his side Dona Angela'swaiting maid. Thus Violanta betrayed her mistress to the profit of DonCornelio, by whom she believed herself beloved, and who, had led herto fancy that he would marry her some day. From the camarista, who hadremained on the listen, the Spaniard learned all that was said in thejacal between Father Seraphin, the count, and the young lady: the orderhe afterwards received to go to La Magdalena and purchase the gownsdissipated all his doubts, and he resolved to act without loss of time.

  It was by his advice that the Mexicans were to attempt to attackthe camp that very night: hence he knew where to find them. Takingadvantage, therefore, of a moment when everybody was too busy with hisown affairs to think about what others were doing, he glided silentlyout of the camp, like a man taking a morning's walk, gained a clump oftrees behind which a horse was hidden, and rode off at full speed acrosscountry, after taking a scrutinising glance around to assure himselfthat he was not watched.

  He galloped thus for several hours, not seeming to follow any regularroad, dashing straight on, and paying no attention to obstacles, or notchecking the speed of his horse. Still, gradually his thoughts, atfirst gloomy and sad, assumed a different direction: he attached thebridle to his saddle-bow, and for the first time for many a day hisfingers began straying mechanically over the resonant strings of hisjarana, which he always wore in a sling, and brought with him; then,yielding unconsciously to the influence of the surrounding scenery, hebegan singing in a loud voice that couplet of the romance which bore acertain degree of reference to his present position:--

  "Amada enemiga mia, De Espana segunda Elena, O isi yo naciera ciego! O itu sin beldad nacieras! Maldito sea el punto y hora Que al mundo me dio mi estrella: Pechos que me dieron leche Mejor sepulcro me dieran Pagara----"[1]

  "Deuce take the owl singing at this hour!" a rough voice said, harshlyinterrupting the virtuoso. "Who ever heard such an infernal row?"

  Don Cornelio looked around. The darkness was profound. A tall man withcrafty air, and mustachios turned up, was examining him impudently whiletapping the hilt of a long rapier.

  "Eh, eh!" the Spaniard said with great composure, "Is that you, captain?What are you doing here?"

  "Waiting for you, Cristo."

  "Well, here I am."

  "That is fortunate. When do we start?"

  "All is changed."

  "Eh?"

  "Lead me first to your encampment, where I will explain it all to you."

  "Come."

  Don Cornelio followed him. This captain, whom the reader has doubtlessrecognised, was the old soldier of the war of independence whom we hadthe honour of presenting to him under the name of Don Isidro Vargas, theconfidential tool of General Guerrero, to whom he was attached like theblade to the hilt.

  The Spaniard, drawing his horse after him by the bridle, entered alarge clearing lighted up by a dozen fires, round which were croucheda hundred men with sinister faces and irregular accoutrements, but allarmed to the teeth. These bandits, whose ferocious appearance would havedelighted a painter, illumined as they were by the fantastic flames ofthe braseros, were gambling, drinking, and quarrelling, and did notseem to notice Don Cornelio's arrival. The latter made a gesture ofdisgust on seeing them, but hobbled his horse near theirs, and rejoinedthe captain, who had already seated himself by a fire evidently madespecially for him, as not one of the worthy people he had the honour ofcommanding came near it.

  "Now I will hear you," the captain said so soon as he saw his comradestretched out comfortably at his side.

  "What I have to say will not take long."

  "Let me hear it, at any rate."

  "In two words, this is the matter: our expedition of this evening isuseless--the bird has flown."

  The captain, according to his habit in any moment of nervous excitement,rapped out a frightful oath.

  "Patience!" the Spaniard went on. "This is what has happened."

  And he described the way in which Father Seraphin had left the camp,accompanied by the young lady. On hearing it the worthy captain's facebrightened.

  "Come," he said, "all is for the best. What will you do?"

  "Give me El Buitre and ten resolute men. The priest must pass throughthe Quebrada del Coyote: on arriving there I promise to strip him."

  "And what shall I do during that time?"

  "Whatever you like."

  "_Mil rayos!_ since I am here, I will remain; but I shall quit thisencampment at daybreak, and after leaving a party to beat up thecountry, I will join the general at Ures."

  "Then he is at Ures at this moment?"

  "Yes, temporarily."

  "Very good; then you will see me there with my prisoners."

  "Agreed."

>   "And now make haste; I must start at once."

  The captain rose, and while Don Cornelio was drawing his horse's girthstighter, he gave orders to ten of his men to prepare for an expedition.Within five minutes the little party left the clearing under the ordersof the Spaniard, and took up the missionary's trail. The reader knowsalready what took place in the pass, which was not more than two leaguesfrom the spot where the bandits lay in ambush. We will, therefore, leaveDon Cornelio, and confine our attention to Captain Vargas.

  "On my word," the captain said to himself when the Spaniard had lefthim, "I prefer that matters should end thus. There are only blows to begained from those confounded Frenchmen, deuce take them! Now we shall bequiet for the whole night, so we will go to sleep."

  The captain was not so safe as he imagined, though, and the night wasnot destined to be so quiet as far as he was concerned. On leaving thecamp Valentine explained to his comrades the nature of the expeditionthey were going on, and recommended them to play Indian; that is to say,employ craft. On entering the forest in which Captain Vargas was hidden,the Frenchmen had heard the sound of horses, and seen the bandits underthe Spaniard's command flash past in the darkness like a baud of blackshadows. Not wishing to defer the execution of his plans, and possiblysurrender the substance for the shadow, the hunter contented himselfwith sending an intelligent man after the party, in order to know whatbecame of it; and the Frenchmen, after dismounting, crept into theforests like reptiles.

  Nothing was more easy than to surprise the Mexicans. The latter believedthemselves so safe that they had not even taken the precaution to postsentries round their bivouac, who might warn them in case of danger.Huddled pell-mell round the fires, the greater part were asleep, oralready, plunged in that seeming lethargy which precedes sleep. As forthe captain, he was wrapped up carefully in his cloak, and, with hisfeet to the fire and his head on a saddle, was fast asleep.

  The adventurers reached the centre of the clearing without the slightestsound betraying their approach. Then, in accordance with the ordersthey had received, they seized the firelocks and sabres placed neareach of the sleepers, formed a pile of them, and then cut the picketropes of the horses, which they drove off with blows of the chicote.At the terrible noise produced by the headlong course of the horses,which spread in every direction, snorting and neighing, the Mexicansawoke. They remained for an instant as if petrified at the sight of theadventurers, who surrounded them on all sides with levelled muskets.By an instinctive movement they felt for their arms, but they had beenremoved.

  "_Con mil rayos y mil demonios!_" the captain shouted, as he stamped hisfoot furiously, "we are taken like rats in a trap."

  "Hilloh!" Valentine said with an ironical laugh, "you are no longermajordomo, then, Senor Don Isidro Vargas?"

  "And you," he answered with a grin of rage, "as it seems, are no longera dealer in novillos, Senor Don Valentine?"

  "What would you?" he said cunningly. "Trade is so very bad."

  "Hum! not very bad with you, it seems."

  "Hang it! you know men do what they can;" and turning to de Laville, hesaid, "My dear captain, all these caballeros have reatas: be good enoughto employ them in binding them tightly."

  "Eh, Senor Don Valentine?" the ex-majordomo shouted. "You are notmerciful to us."

  "I! What an error, Don Isidro! Still, as you know, war has certainnecessities. I am taking my precautions--that is all."

  "What do you intend to do with us?"

  "You shall see, for I do not wish to deprive you of the pleasure of asurprise; and, by the way, how do you find what I have just done to you?It is as good as what you were preparing for us, I think?"

  Captain Vargas could find no reply: he contented himself with gnawinghis fingernails, after assuring himself, by a glance all around, thatflight was as impossible as resistance. At this moment the man whomValentine sent off to watch the scouting party returned, and whispered afew words in his ear. The hunter turned pale: he looked at the Mexicancaptain in a way that made him shudder, and then addressed his party.

  "Tell off ten men to mount at once," he said sharply. "Captain deLaville, you will answer to me on your head for these bandits, whomI leave in your hands. Return to the camp quietly. I will join you,probably, on the road. The first who attempts to escape, blow out hisbrains pitilessly. You understand me?"

  "You may be at ease: it shall be done. But what has happened?"

  "The bandits we saw going off on our arrival intend to attack FatherSeraphin."

  "Death and the devil! you must make haste."

  "I intend to do so. Good-by! Woe to you scoundrels! If a hair falls fromthe missionary's head you shall be all shot," he added, turning to histerrified prisoners.

  And with this fearful promise he went off, followed by the fewadventurers chosen to accompany him. On entering the pass the hunter metthe fugitives, on whom he rushed. Unfortunately the latter had seen themfirst; and they succeeded in escaping by abandoning their horses, andclambering like cats up the almost perpendicular sides of the mountain.Valentine, without losing time in a futile pursuit, hastened to join themissionary.

  "Ah!" the latter exclaimed on seeing him, "my friend, my dear Valentine,had it not been for Curumilla, we were lost."

  "And Dona Angela?"

  "Thanks be to Heaven, she is saved."

  "Yes," she said, "thanks to Heaven and to these caballeros, who arrivedjust in time to protect us."

  One of the strangers approached.

  "Pardon me, sir," he said in excellent French, "but you are the Frenchhunter of whom so much is said--Valentine Guillois, I think?"

  "Yes, sir," Valentine answered with surprise.

  "My name, sir, is Belhumeur."

  "I know you, sir: my foster brother has often mentioned you as his bestfriend."

  "I am delighted that he has kept me in such pleasant memory. Allow me topresent to you Don Rafael Garillas de Saavedra."

  The two men bowed and shook hands.

  "We have formed acquaintance like men of honour," Valentine remarked.

  "Is not that the best form of introduction?"

  "We cannot remain any longer here," Father Seraphin observed.

  "I will myself return with you, senor padre," Don Rafael said. "Iintended to proceed to the count's camp; but I have found a better wayof seeing him and securing his friendship."

  "And what is that way?"

  "By offering a shelter to Dona Angela at the Hacienda del Milagro, whichbelongs to me."

  "Yes," the missionary said; "pardon me, Don Rafael, for not havingthought of that: it is the refuge best suited for this lady."

  "I accept gratefully," the young lady murmured; and bending down to thehunter's ear, she whispered, smiling and blushing at the same time, "DonValentine, will you undertake to say one word for me to Don Louis?"

  "One!" he said. "What is it?"

  "For ever!"

  "Come, I will not recall my word," he said with a good-humoured laugh."You are an angel: I shall end by loving you madly."

  "Let us go!" she exclaimed.

  "Will you not join our party, Belhumeur?" Valentine asked.

  "Certainly; for I wish to speak with Don Louis."

  "That is it," Don Rafael observed. "I will escort the padre with BlackElk and Eagle-head. Senor Don Valentine, Belhumeur will serve as yourguide to the Hacienda del Milagro."

  "By Jove!" Valentine said with a laugh, "you will probably see me beforeyou expect."

  "Come whenever you please: you will ever be welcome."

  After exchanging affectionate farewells the two parties turned theirback on each other, and left the gorge by opposite roads.

  [1] Enemy whom I adore, of Spain the second Helen, oh that I were bornblind, or you born without beauty! Accursed be the day and hour when mystar caused me to be born! Breasts that nourished me, better to havegiven me death. You will pay----