La loi de lynch. English

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XX.

  RED CEDAR.

  Now that we have explained the incidents that took place during the sixmonths that had elapsed between Dona Clara's death and the conversationin the cavern during the storm, we will resume our narrative where weleft it at the end of chapter three.

  Only a few minutes after the hacendero's son had left, the door of thejacal was roughly opened--four men entered. They were Red Cedar, FrayAmbrosio, Sutter, and Nathan. They appeared sad and gloomy, and thewater poured down from their clothes as if they had come out of theriver.

  "Halloh," the monk said; "what! No fire or light, and nothing in thecalli to greet us. You do not care much for us, I fancy."

  Red Cedar kissed his daughter on the forehead, and turning to FrayAmbrosio, to whom he gave a passionate glance, he said roughly--

  "You are in my house, my master: do not oblige me to remind you of thatfact; so begin by being civil to my daughter, if you do not wish me togive you a lesson."

  "Hum!" the monk remarked with a growl; "Is this young woman so sacred,that you should fire up at the slightest word addressed to her?"

  "I do not fire up," the squatter replied, sharply, as he struck thetable with his fist; "but your way of speaking does not please me, Itell you; so do not oblige me to repeat it."

  Fray Ambrosio made no answer; he understood that Red Cedar was in astate of mind unfavourable for a discussion; he therefore prudentlyrefrained from any remark that might lead to a quarrel, which he seemedas anxious to avoid as the squatter to pick it. During the exchange ofthese few sentences, Ellen, helped by her brothers, had lit a torch ofcandle wood, rekindled the fire, the absence of which was felt, andplaced on the table a meal, sufficient, if not luxurious.

  "Caballeros," she said in her gentle voice, "you are served."

  The four men sat round the table with the eagerness of hungry personswho are desirous of breaking a long fast. Before raising the firstmorsel to his lips, the squatter, however, turned to his daughter.

  "Ellen," he said to her kindly, "will you not sit down with us?"

  "Thank you, father, but I am not hungry; it would be really impossiblefor me to swallow the least morsel."

  The squatter sighed, but raising no objection, he began to serve hisguests, while Ellen retired into the darkest corner of the shanty. Themeal was sad; the four men seemed busy in thought, and ate quickly andsilently. When their hunger was appeased, they lit their pipes.

  "Father," Nathan suddenly said to Red Cedar, who was sorrowfullywatching the smoke ascend in spirals to the roof; "I have found atrail."

  "So have I," the monk remarked.

  "And I, too," the squatter said; "what of that?"

  "What of that?" Fray Ambrosio shouted. "Canarios, gossip, you takethings very lightly. A trail in the desert always reveals an enemy."

  "What do I care for that?" Red Cedar replied, with a shrug of hisshoulders.

  "What?" the monk shouted, as he sprang up; "That is very fine, on myword; to hear you, one might fancy you were an entire stranger to thequestion, and that your life is not at stake like ours."

  "Who tells you that I wish to defend it?" the squatter replied, givinghim a look which made his eyes fall.

  "Hum!" the monk remarked, after a moment's silence; "I can understandthat you do not cling to life; you have gone through so much, that youwould not regret death; but there is one thing you forget, gossip, notreferring to myself, though I have a right to reproach you."

  The squatter carelessly shook the ashes out of his pipe, filled itagain, and went on smoking as if not paying the slightest attention tothe monk's remarks. The latter frowned and clenched his fists, butrecovering his temper almost immediately, he continued, with feignedindifference, while playing with his knife--

  "Yes, you forget one thing, gossip, which however, is worthremembering."

  "What is it?"

  "Your children, cospita!"

  The squatter gave him an ironical glance.

  "Oh, _por Dios santo!_" the monk went on; "I do not refer to your sons,for they are strong and resolute men, who can always get out of ascrape; I do not trouble myself about them at all."

  "About whom, then?" the squatter asked, looking at him sharply.

  "Why, for your daughter Ellen, canarios! What will become of her, if youdie?" the monk said, with that boldness peculiar to timid persons, whowish to know at once if the mine they have fired will crush them. Thesquatter shook his head sadly.

  "That is true," he said, with a glance at his daughter.

  The monk smiled--the blow had told, so he went on.

  "In destroying yourself, you destroy her," he said; "your obstinacy maycause her death, so take care."

  "What is to be done?" the squatter asked.

  "Take our precautions, _voto de Dios!_ believe me, we are watched;remaining longer here would be the utmost imprudence."

  The squatter's sons nodded their assent.

  "It is evident," Sutter observed, "that our enemies have discovered ourtrail."

  "And that they will soon be here," Nathan added.

  "You hear?" the monk went on.

  "Once again I ask, what is to be done?" Red Cedar asked.

  "Caspita, be off as speedily as possible."

  "Where can we go at this advanced season of the year? The snow will sooncover the ground, and interrupt all communication; if we leave thejacal, we run a risk of dying of hunger."

  "Yes, if we remain in the desert," the monk observed, in an insinuatingvoice.

  "Where do you propose going then?" the squatter asked.

  "What do I know? There is no lack of towns, I suppose, on the Indianborder; we might, if absolutely necessary, return to the Paso del Norte,where we have friends, and are certain of a kind reception."

  Red Cedar looked him full in the face, and said ironically--

  "Out with your whole thought, senor Padre; you have an object in wishingto return to the Paso, so let me know it."

  "Caspita, you are as clever as I am," the monk exclaimed, blushing thewhile; "what need have we to humbug one another?"

  The squatter rose, and kicked back his stool.

  "You are right," he said passionately, "let us deal openly with oneanother. I wish nothing better, and to give you an example, listen tome. You have never lost out of sight the reason that made you enter thedesert; you have only one object, one desire, to reach the rich placer,the situation of which you learned by assassinating a man. Neither thefatigue you have endured, nor the peril you have incurred, has made yourenounce your scheme; the hope of a rich crop of gold blinds you, andmakes you mad. Is it so or not?"

  "It is true," the monk coolly replied, "what next?"

  "When our band was destroyed, and completely dispersed, this was thereasoning you employed--a reasoning," he added, with a bitter smile,"which does honour to your sagacity and firmness of character; 'RedCedar all but knows the site of the placer. I must induce him to returnwith me to the Paso, to form another band, because if I leave him alonein the desert, so soon as my back is turned, he will go in search of thetreasures, and carelessly discover it.' Have I not guessed aright,gossip?"

  "Nearly so," the monk answered, furious at seeing his plans so clearlyread through.

  "I thought so," Red Cedar continued; "but, like all bad men, gangrenedto the heart, you went beyond your object, by attributing to me the samesordid instincts you possess; and you thought that because I am anassassin, I may be a thief: that is the error in which you fell, gossip.Understand me," he said, stamping his foot violently; "were the covetedtreasure at this moment beneath my heel, I would not stoop down to pickup a nugget. Gold is nothing to me, I despise it. When I consented toguide you to the placer you naturally assumed that avarice led me to doso; but you are mistaken; I had a more powerful and noblermotive--revenge. Now, do not trouble me more about your accursed placer,for which I care as little as I do for a nut. And with that, good night,gossip; I am going to sleep, or try to do so, and recommend the same toyou."

>   And, without awaiting the monk's reply, the squatter turned his back andstalked into an inner room. For some time past, Ellen had been asleep,and so the monk remained alone with the squatter's sons. For someminutes they remained in silence.

  "Bah," the monk at length said cautiously, "however much he maystruggle, it must happen."

  Sutter shook his head dubiously.

  "No," he said, "you do not know the old one; once he has said no, hesticks to it."

  "Hum!" Nathan added, "He has greatly changed lately; of all his oldcharacter, he seems only to have kept his obstinacy; I am afraid youwill fail, senor Padre."

  "Live and learn," the latter said gaily; "tomorrow has to come; in themeanwhile, gentlemen, let us follow his advice, and go to sleep."

  Ten minutes later all slept, or seemed to sleep, in the jacal: the stormlasted the night through, howling furiously. At daybreak, the squatterrose, and went out to see what sort of weather it was. The day promisedwell; the sky was pure, and the sun rose radiantly. Red Cedar,therefore, started for the corral to saddle his horse, and those of hiscomrades. Before leaving the household, however, he looked around, andsuddenly uttered an exclamation of surprise as he started back. He hadnoticed a horseman coming up at full speed.

  "Father Seraphin!" he muttered in astonishment; "What serious reason canbring him here, at such an hour and in such haste?"

  At this moment the other entered the keeping room, and the squatterheard the sound of the footsteps behind him. He turned quickly.

  "Hide yourselves," he said hoarsely.

  "What's the matter?" the monk asked furiously, as he stepped forward.

  With one blow of his fist, the squatter hurled him to the middle of theroom.

  "Did you not hear me?" he said passionately. But, although Red Cedar'sblow had been so powerful, he could not prevent the monk recognisingFather Seraphin.

  "Ah, ah," he said, with an ugly smile, "Father Seraphin! If our friendwished to confess, was not I enough? He need not only have told me,instead of sending for that European magpie."

  Red Cedar here turned as if a viper had stung him, and gave the threemen such a glance of ferocity, that they involuntarily recoiled.

  "Villain," he said, in a hollow voice, and a terrible gesture, "I knownot what prevents me killing you, like the dog you are. If one of youdare utter a syllable against this holy man, by Heaven, I will flay himalive. Hide yourselves, I insist."

  Subjugated by the squatter's accent, the three men left the room withoutreplying, and ten minutes later Father Seraphin checked his horse, anddismounted in front of the jacal. Red Cedar and his daughter hurriedforward to meet the father, who walked into the hut, wiping theperspiration that stood on his forehead. Red Cedar offered him a butaca.

  "Sit down, father," he said to him, "you are very hot; will you takesome refreshment?"

  "Thanks," the missionary answered, "but we have not a moment to lose, solisten to me."

  "What has happened, father? Why have you come in such haste?"

  "Alas!" he went on, "because you are menaced by a terrible misfortune."

  The squatter turned pale. "It is but just," he muttered, with a frown;"the expiation is beginning."

  "Courage, my children," the missionary said, affectionately, "yourenemies have discovered your retreat, I know not how; they will be heretomorrow--perhaps today--you must fly--fly at once."

  "For what good?" the squatter remarked; "the hand of God is in this--noman can escape his destiny; better to wait."

  Father Seraphin assumed a serious air, and said in a stern voice--

  "God wishes to try you; it would be cowardice, suicide, to surrenderyourself to those who desire your death, and Heaven would not pardon youfor doing so. Every living creature must defend life when attacked.Fly--I bid you--I order you."

  The squatter made no reply.

  "Besides," Father Seraphin continued, in a tone he strove to render gay,"the storm may blow over; your enemies, not finding you here, willdoubtless abandon the pursuit; in a few days, you will be able toreturn."

  "No," the squatter said disconsolately, "they desire my death. As youorder me to fly, father, I will obey you, but, before all, grant me onefavour."

  "Speak, my son."

  "I," the squatter went on, with ill-concealed emotion, "am a man; Ican, without succumbing, support the most excessive fatigue, brave thegreatest dangers; but--"

  "I understand you," the missionary quickly interrupted him; "I intend tokeep your daughter with me. Be at your ease, she shall want fornothing."

  "Oh, thanks, thanks, father!" he exclaimed, with an accent such a manmight have been thought incapable of.

  Ellen had hitherto listened to the conversation in silence, but now shestepped forward, and placing herself between the two men, said withsublime dignity:

  "I am most grateful to both of you for your intentions with regard tome, but I cannot abandon my father; I will follow him wherever he goes,to console him and aid him in suffering the retributions Heaven sends onhim, as a Christian should do."

  The two men prepared to interrupt her.

  "Stay!" she said, warmly; "hitherto I have suffered through my father'sconduct, for it was guilty; but now that repentance fills his soul, Ipity and love him. My resolution is unchangeable."

  Father Seraphin gazed at her in admiration.

  "It is well, my child," he said; "Heaven will remember such pure andnoble devotion."

  The squatter pressed his daughter to his heart, but had not the strengthto utter a word--he had never felt such sweet emotion before. Themissionary rose.

  "Farewell," he said, "and take courage; put your trust in God, who willnot abandon you. I will watch over you at a distance. Farewell, mychildren, and bless you. Go, go, without delay."

  Then, tearing himself by an effort from Red Cedar's arms, FatherSeraphin remounted, dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and startedat full speed, after giving his proteges a parting wave of the hand.

  "Oh!" Red Cedar muttered, "That could not last, for I was almost happy."

  "Courage, father," Ellen said to him softly.

  They re-entered the jacal, where the men were awaiting them.

  "Go and saddle the horses," the squatter said, "we are going away."

  "Ah!" the monk whispered Sutter, "did I not tell you the demon was onour side? Canarios! He would not forget us, as we have done so much forhim."

  The preparations for quitting the jacal were not long, and an hourlater, the five persons started.

  "In what direction do we go?" the monk asked.

  "Let us go in the mountains," the squatter answered, laconically, as hetook a melancholy glance at this wretched hut, in which he had perhapshoped to end his days, and which fate compelled him to leave forever.The fugitives had scarce disappeared behind a clump of trees, when acloud of dust rose on the horizon, and five horsemen soon appeared,coming up at full speed. They were Valentine and his friends.

  The hunter must have obtained precise information from Bloodson as tothe situation of the jacal, for he did not hesitate a moment, but rodestraight in. Don Pablo's heart beat, as if to burst his chest, though heapparently remained unmoved.

  "Hum!" Valentine said, when about a dozen yards from the jacal,"Everything is very silent here."

  "The squatter is no doubt out hunting," Don Miguel observed, "we shallonly find his daughter."

  Valentine began laughing.

  "Do you think so?" he said. "No, no, Don Miguel, remember FatherSeraphin's words."

  General Ibanez, who was the first to reach the jacal, dismounted andopened the door.

  "Nobody!" he said, in surprise.

  "By Jove!" Valentine said, "I suspected that the bird had flown; butthis time he will be very cunning if he escapes us. Forward, forward!They cannot be far ahead."

  They started again. Curumilla remained behind for a second, and threw alighted torch into the shanty, which was soon burned down.

  "The fox is unearthed," the Indian muttered to himself, whi
le rejoininghis comrades.