Gustave Aimard
Stronghand: or, The Noble Revenge
Thunderbolt rose.
"Chiefs and sachems of the Confederation of the Papazos," he said in his sympathetic and sonorous voice, "and you, warriors, our allies, the moment for dissolving your council has at length arrived. Henceforth the committee of the five chiefs will alone sit. Each of you will return to his tribe, arm his warriors, and order the scalp dance to be performed round the war post; but the eighth sun must see you here again at the head of your warriors, in order that all may be ready to act when the invasion is decided on. I have spoken. Have I said well, powerful men?"
The chiefs rose in silence, resumed their weapons, and immediately left the village, starting in different directions at a gallop. Thunderbolt and Stronghand were left alone.
"My son," the old man then said, "have you nothing to tell me?"
"Yes, father," the young man respectfully answered; "I have very serious news for you."
CHAPTER XIX
THE RANCHO
Before describing the conversation between Thunderbolt and Stronghand, we are obliged to go back, and tell the reader certain facts which had occurred at the Hacienda del Toro, a few days before the majordomo set out for Hermosillo. Mexican girls, born and bred on the Indian border, enjoy a liberty which the want of society renders indispensable. Always on horseback upon these immense estates, which extend for twenty or five-and-twenty leagues, their life is spent in riding over hill and dale, visiting the wretched huts of the vaqueros and peons, relieving their wants, and rendering themselves beloved by their simple graces and affecting goodness of heart.
Doña Mariana, who had been exiled for several years at a convent, so soon as she returned home, eagerly renewed her long rides through forests and prairies, to see again the persons in her father's employ, with whom she had sported as a child, and of whom she had such a pleasant recollection. At times followed by a servant, specially attached to her, but more usually alone, the maiden had therefore recommenced her rides, going to visit one and the other, enjoying her gallop, careless as a bird, pleased with everything – the flowers she culled as she passed, the reviving breeze she inhaled, and smiling gaily at the sun which bronzed her complexion; in a word, she revealed the voluptuous and egotistic apathy of a child in whom the woman is not yet revealed, and who is ignorant that she possesses a heart.
Most usually Doña Marianna guided her horse to a rancho situated about three leagues from the hacienda, in the midst of a majestic forest of evergreen oaks and larches. This rancho, which was built of adobes, and whitewashed, stood on the bank of a stream, in the centre of a field sufficiently cleared to grow the grain required for the support of the poor inhabitants of the hovel. In the rear of the rancho was an enclosure, serving as a corral, and containing two cows and four or five horses, the sole fortune of the master of this rancho, which, however, internally was not so poverty stricken as the exterior seemed to forebode. It was divided into three parts, two of which served as bedrooms, and the third as sitting room, saloon, kitchen, &c. In the latter, the fowls impudently came to pick up grain and pieces of tortillas which bad been allowed to fall.
On the right was a sort of low fireplace, evidently for culinary purposes; the middle of the room was occupied by a large oak table with twisted legs; at the end, two doors opened into the bedrooms, and the walls were covered with those hideous coloured plates which Parisian trade inundates the New World with, and under which intelligent hawkers print the names of saints, to render the sale more easy. Among these engravings was one representing Napoleon crossing the St. Bernard, accompanied by a guide, holding his horse. It bore the rather too fanciful title, "The great St. Martin dividing his cloak with a beggar." A fact which imparts incomparable meaning to this humorous motto is, that the general, far from wishing to give his cloak to the guide, who does not want it, seems to be shivering with cold, and wrapping himself up with extreme care. Lastly, a few butacas and equipales completed the furniture, which, for many reasons, might be considered elegant in a country where the science of comfort is completely ignored, and the wants of material life are reduced to their simplest expression.
This rancho had been for many years inhabited by the same family, who were the last relics of the Indians dwelling here when the country was discovered by the Spaniards. These Indians, who were mansos, and long converted to Christianity, had been old and faithful servants of the Marquises de Moguer, who were always attached to them, and made it a point of honour to heighten their comforts, and give them their protection under all circumstances. Hence the devotion of these worthy people to the Moguer family was affecting, through its simple self-denial. They had forgotten their Indian name, and were only known by that of Sanchez.
At the moment when we introduce this family to the reader, it consisted of three persons: the father, a blind old man, but upright and hale, who, in spite of his infirmity, still traversed all the forest tracks without hesitation or risk of losing himself, merely accompanied by his dog Bouchaley; the mother, a woman about forty years of age, tall, robust, and possessing marked features, which, when she was younger, must have been very handsome; and the son, a young man of about twenty, well built, and a daring hunter, who held the post of tigrero at the hacienda.
Luisa Sanchez had been nurse to Doña Marianna, and the young lady, deprived at an early age of her mistress, had retained for her not merely that friendship which children generally have for their nurse, and which at times renders the mother jealous, but that craving for affection, so natural in young hearts, and which Doña Marianna, restrained by her father's apparent sternness, could not indulge. The maiden's return to the hacienda caused great joy at the rancho; father, mother, and son at once mounted and proceeded to the Toro to embrace their child, as they simply called her. Halfway they met Doña Marianna, who, in her impatience to see them again, was galloping like a mad girl, followed by her brother, who was teasing her about this love for her nurse.
Since then, not a day passed on which the young lady did not carry the sunshine of her presence to the rancho, and shared the breakfast of the family – a frugal meal, composed of light cakes, roasted on an iron plate, boiled beef seasoned with chile Colorado, milk, and quesadillas, or cheesecakes, hard and green and leathery, which the young lady, however, declared to be excellent, and heartily enjoyed. Bouchaley, like everybody else at the rancho, entertained a feeling of adoration for Doña Marianna. He was a long-haired black and white mastiff, about ten years old, and spiteful and noisy as all his congeners. In reality, the dog possessed but one good quality – its well-tried fidelity to its master, whom it never took its eyes off, and constantly crouched at his feet. Since the young lady's return, the heart of the worthy quadruped had opened to a new affection; each morning it took its post on the road by which Doña Marianna came, and as soon as it saw her, saluted her by leaps and deafening barks.
Mariano Sanchez, the tigrero, had for his foster sister an affection heightened by the similarity of name – a similarity which in Spanish America gives a right to a sort of spiritual relationship. This touching custom, whose origin is entirely Indian, is intended to draw closer the relations between tocayo and tocaya, and they are almost brother and sister. Hence the tigrero, in order to be present each morning at his tocaya's breakfast, often rode eight or ten leagues in the morning, and found his reward in a smile from the young lady. As for Father Sanchez, since the return of his child, as he called her, he only felt one regret. It was that he could not see her and admire her beauty; but he consoled himself by embracing her.
It was about eleven o'clock in the morning; the sun illumined the hut; the birds were singing merrily in the forest. Father Sanchez had taken up the hand mill, and was grinding the wheat, while his wife, after sifting the wheat, pounded it, and formed it into light cakes, called tortillas, which, after being griddled, would form the solid portion of the breakfast.
Bouchaley was at his post on the road, watching for the arrival of the young lady.
"How is it," the old man asked, "that Mariano is not here yet? I generally hear the sound of his horse earlier than this."
"Poor lad! Who knows where he is at this moment?" the mother answered. "He has for some days been watching a band of jaguars that have bitten several horses at the hacienda. He is certainly ambushed in some thicket. I only trust he will not be devoured some day by the terrible animals."
"Nonsense, wife," the old man continued, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Maternal love renders you foolish. Mariano devoured by the tigers!"
"Well, I see nothing impossible in that."
"You might just as well say that Bouchaley is capable of chasing a peccary; one thing is as possible as the other. Besides, you forget that our son never goes out without his dog Bigote, a cross between a wolf and a Newfoundland dog, as big as a six months' old colt, and who is capable of breaking the loins of a coyote at one snap."
"I do not say no, father; I do not say no," she continued, with a shake of her head; "that does not prevent his being a dangerous trade, which may one day or another, cost him his life."
"Stuff! Mariano is too clever a hunter for that; besides, the trade is lucrative; each jaguar skin brings him in fourteen piastres – a sum we cannot afford to despise, since my infirmity has prevented me from working. It would be better for my old carcass to return to the earth, as I am no longer good for anything."
"Do not speak so, father; especially before our daughter, for she would not forgive you: for what you are saying is unjust; you have worked enough in your time to rest now, and your son take your place."
"Well, tell me, wife," the old man said, laughingly, "was I devoured by the jaguar? And yet I was a tigrero for more than forty years, and the jaguars were not nearly so polite in my time as they are now."
"That is all very well; it is true that you have not been devoured, but your father and your grandfather were. What answer have you to that?"
"Hem!" the old man went on, in some embarrassment; "I will answer – I will answer – "
"Nothing, and that will be the best," she continued; "for you could not say anything satisfactory."
"Nonsense! What do you take me for, mother? If my father and grandfather were devoured, and that is true, it was – "
"Well, what? I am anxious to hear."
"Because they were treacherously attacked by the jaguars," he at length said, with a triumphant air; "the wretches knew whom they had to deal with, and so played cunning. Otherwise they would never have got the best of two such clever hunters as my father and grandfather."
The ranchera shrugged her shoulders with a smile, but she considered it unnecessary to answer, as she was well aware she would not succeed in making her husband change his opinion as to her son's dangerous trade. The old man, satisfied with having reduced his wife to silence, as he fancied, did not abuse his victory; with a crafty smile he rolled and lit a cigarette, while Na Luisa laid the table, arranged and dusted everything in the rancho, and listened anxiously to assure herself that the footfall of her son's horse was not mingled with the sounds that incessantly rose from the forest.
All at once Bouchaley was heard barking furiously. The old man drew himself up in his butaca, while Na Sanchez rushed to the doorway, in which Doña Marianna appeared, fresh and smiling.
"Good morning, father! Good morning, mother!" she exclaimed in her silvery voice, and kissed the forehead of the old man, who tenderly pressed her to his heart. "Come, Bouchaley, come, be quiet!" she added, patting the dog, which still gamboled round her. "Mother, ask my tocayo to put Negro in the corral, for the good animal has earned its alfalfa."
"I will go, Querida," the old man said; "for today I take Mariano's place." And he left the rancho without awaiting an answer.
"Mother," the young lady continued, with a shade of anxiety, "where is my foster brother? I do not see him."
"Has not arrived yet, niña."
"What! Not arrived?"
"Oh, I trust he will soon be here," she said, while stifling a sigh.
The maiden looked at her for a moment sympathetically.
"What is the matter, mother?" she at length said, as she seized the poor woman's hand; "Can any accident have happened?"
"The Lord guard us from it, Querida," Luisa said, clasping her hands.
"Still, you are anxious, mother. You are hiding something from me. Tell me at once what it is."
"Nothing, my child; forgive me. Nothing extraordinary has occurred, and I am hiding nothing from you; but – "
"But what?" Doña Marianna interrupted her.
"Well, since you insist, Querida, I confess to you that I am alarmed. You know that Mariano is tigrero to the hacienda?"
"Yes; what then?"
"I am always frightened lest he should meet with an accident, for that happens so easily."
"Come, come, mother; do not have such thoughts as these. Mariano is an intrepid hunter, and possesses far from common skill and tact."
"Ah, hija, you are of the same opinion as my old man. Alas! If I lost my son, what would become of you?"
"Oh, mother, why talk in that way? Mariano, I hope, runs no danger. The delay that alarms you means nothing; you will soon see him again."
"May you be saying the truth, dear child!"
"I am so convinced of it, mamita, that I will not sit down to table till he arrives."
"Well, you will not have to wait long, hijita," the old man said, as he re-entered the rancho.
"Is he coming?" the mother joyously exclaimed, as she furtively wiped away a tear.
"I knew it," the maiden remarked.
"There, do you hear his horse?" the old man said. In fact, the furious gallop of a horse echoed in the forest, and approached with the rapidity of a hurricane. The two females darted to the door. At this moment a horseman appeared on the skirt of the clearing, riding at full speed, with his hair floating in the breeze, and his face animated by the speed at which he rode. This horseman, who was powerfully and yet gracefully built, and had a manly, energetic face, was Mariano, the tigrero. His dog, a black and white Newfoundland, with powerful chest and enormous head, was running by the side of the horse, and looking up intelligently every moment.
"¡Viva Dios! ¡Querida tocaya!" the young man exclaimed, as he leaped from his horse. "I am glad to see you, for I was afraid that I should arrive too late. Bigote," he added, addressing his dog and throwing the bridle to it, which the animal seized with its mouth, "lead Moreno to the corral."
The dog immediately proceeded thither, followed by the horse, while Mariano and the two females returned to the rancho. The young man kissed his father's forehead, and took his hand, saying, "Good morning, papa!" and then returned to his mother, whom he embraced several times.
"Cruel child," she said to him, "why did you delay so long?"
"Pay no attention to what your mother says, muchacho," the old man remarked; "she is foolish."
"Fie! You must not say that!" the young lady exclaimed; "You would do better in scolding Mariano, for I, too, felt alarmed."
"Do not be angry with me," the young man replied; "I have been for some days on the track of a family of jaguars, which is prowling about the neighbourhood, and I could not possibly come sooner."
"Are they about here?"
"No; they are prowlers brought here by the drought; and are the more dangerous because, as they do not belong to these parts, they rest where they please – sometimes at one place, sometimes at another, and it becomes very difficult to follow their trail."
"I only hope they will not think of coming here," the mother said, anxiously.
"I do not believe they will, for wild beasts shun the vicinity of man. Still, Doña Marianna had better, for some days to come, restrict her rides, and not venture too far into the forest."
"What can I have to fear?"
"Nothing, I hope; still it is better to act prudently. Wild beasts are animals whose habits it is very difficult to discover, especially when they are in unknown parts, as these are."
"Nonsense!" the young lady said, with a laugh; "You are trying to frighten me, tocayo."
"Do not believe that; I will accompany you with Bigote to the hacienda."
The dog, which had returned to its master's side after performing its duties, wagged its tail, and looked up in her face.
"I will not allow that, tocayo," the young lady replied, as she passed her hand through the dog's silky coat, and pulled its ears; "let Bigote have a rest. I came alone, and will return alone; and mounted on Negro, I defy the tigers to catch me up, unless they are ambuscaded on my road."
"Still, niña – " Mariano objected.
"Not a word more on the subject, tocayo, I beg; let us breakfast, for I am literally dying of hunger; and were the tigers here," she added, with a laugh, "they might frighten me, but not deprive me of my appetite."
CHAPTER XX
LOST!
They sat down to table; but the meal, in spite of Doña Marianna's efforts to enliven it, suffered from the anxiety which two of the party felt, and tried in vain to conceal. The tigrero was vexed with his foster sister for not letting him accompany her, for he had not liked to express his fears, lest the young lady on her return to the hacienda might meet the ferocious animals he had been pursuing for some days past, without being able to shoot them.
The jaguar, which, is very little known in Europe, is one of the scourges of Mexico, and would figure advantageously in zoological gardens. There is only one in the Parisian Jardin des Plantes, and that is a very small specimen. Let us describe this animal, which is more feared by the Indians and white men of North America, than is the lion by the Arabs. The jaguar (Felis onca, or onza) is, next to the tiger and lion, the largest of the animals of its genus; it is the great wild cat of Cuvier, and is called indiscriminately "the American tiger," and the "panther of the furriers." It is a quadruped of the feline race; its total length is about nine feet, and its height about twenty-seven inches. Its skin is handsome, and in great request; while of a bright tawny hue on the back, it is marked on the head, neck, and along the flanks with black spots: the lower part of the body is white, with irregular black spots.
But few animals escape the pursuit of the jaguar: it obstinately hunts horses, bulls, and buffaloes; it does not hesitate to leap into rivers to catch certain fish it is fond of, fights the alligator, devours otters and picas, and wages a cruel warfare with the monkeys, owing to its agility, which enables it to mount to the top of trees, even when they are devoid of branches, and upwards of eighty feet high. Although, like all the carnivora of the New World, it shuns the proximity of man, it does not hesitate to attack him when urged by hunger or tracked by hunters; in such cases it fights with the utmost bravery, and does not dream of flight.
Such were the animals the tigrero had been pursuing for the last few days, and had not been able to catch up. According to the sign he had found, the jaguars were four in number – the male, female, and two cubs. We can now understand what the young man's terror must be on thinking of the terrible dangers to which his foster sister ran a risk of being exposed on her return to the hacienda: but he knew Doña Marianna too well to hope he could make her recall her decision. Hence, he did not try to bring the conversation back to the subject, but resolved to follow her at a distance, in order to come to her aid if circumstances required it.
As always happens under such circumstances, Doña Marianna, seeing that no one referred again to the jaguars, was the first to talk about them, asking her foster brother the details of their appearance in the country, and the mischief they had done, in what way he meant to surprise them, and a multitude of other questions; to which the young man replied most politely, but limiting himself to brief answers, and without launching into details, which are generally so agreeable to a hunter. The tigrero displayed such laconism in the information he gave the young lady, that the latter, vexed in spite of herself at seeing him so cold upon a subject to which he had seemed to attach such importance a few moments before, began jeering him, and ended by saying, with a mocking look, that she was convinced he had only said what he did to frighten her, and that the jaguars had only existed in his imagination. Mariano gaily endured the raillery, confessed that he had perhaps displayed more anxiety than the affair deserved, and taking down a jarabe that hung on the wall, he began strumming a fandango with the back of his hand, in order to turn the conversation.
Several hours passed in laughing, talking, and singing. When the moment for departure at length arrived, Mariano went to the corral to fetch the young lady's horse, saddled it with the utmost care, and led it to the door of the rancho, after saddling his own horse, so that he might start so soon as Doña Marianna was out of sight of the rancho.
"You remained a long time in the corral, tocayo," she said with a laugh; "pray, have you discovered any suspicious sign?"
"No, Niña; but as I am also going to leave the rancho, after saddling your horse, I saddled mine."
"Of course you are going to hunt your strange jaguars again?"
"Oh, of course," he answered.
"Well," she said, with feigned terror, "if you do meet them, pray do not miss them."
"I will do all in my power to avoid that, because I desire to make you a present of their skins, in order to prove to you that they really existed."
"I thank you for your gallantry, Tocayo," she replied with a laugh; "but you know the proverb – 'A hunter must not sell the skin of a – jaguar, before – '"
"Well, well, we shall soon know who is right, and who wrong," he interrupted her.
The maiden, still laughing, embraced the ranchero and his wife, lightly bounded into the saddle, and bending down gracefully offered her hand to Mariano.
"We part friends, tocayo," she said to him. "Are you coming my way?"
"I ought to do so."
"Then why not accompany me?"
"Because you would suppose, Niña, that I wished to escort you."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" the young lady said, merrily; "I had forgotten your proposal of this morning. Well, I hope you will be successful in your bunt; and so, good-bye till tomorrow. Come, Negro."
After uttering these words, she gave a parting wave of the hand to her nurse, and started at a gallop. The young man, after watching her for a while, to be certain of the road she followed, then re-entered the rancho, took his gun, and loaded it with all the care which hunters display in this operation, when they believe that life depends on the accuracy of their aim.
"Are you really about to start at once?" his mother asked him, anxiously.
"At once, mother."
"Where are you going?"
"To follow my foster sister to the hacienda, without her seeing me."
"That is a good idea. Do you fear any danger for her?"
"Not the slightest. But it is a long distance from here to the hacienda; the Indians are moving, it is said. We are no great distance from the border, and, as no one can foresee the future, I do not wish my sister to be exposed to any chance encounter."
"Excellently reasoned, muchacho. The niña is wrong in thus crossing the forest alone."
"Poor child!" the ranchero said; "An accident happens so easily; lose no time, muchacho, but be off. On reflection, I think you ought to have insisted on accompanying her."
"You know, father, she would not have consented."
"That is true; it is better that it should be as it is, for she will be protected without knowing it. The first time I see Don Ruiz, I will recommend him not to let his sister go out thus alone, for times are not good."
But the young man was no longer listening to his father: so soon as his gun was loaded, he left the rancho, followed by his dog. Two minutes later he was in the saddle, and riding at full speed in the direction taken by Doña Marianna.
So soon as the young lady found herself at a sufficient distance from the rancho, she had checked her horse's pace, which was now proceeding at an amble. It was about five in the afternoon; the evening breeze was rising, and gently waving the tufted crests of the trees; the sun, now almost level with the ground, only appeared on the horizon in the shape of a reddish globe; the atmosphere, refreshed by the breeze, was perfumed by the gentle emanations from the flowers and herbs; the birds, aroused from the heavy lethargy produced by the heat, were singing beneath all the branches, and filling the air with their joyous songs.
Doña Marianna, whose mind was impressionable, and open to all sensations, gently yielded to the impressions of this scene, which was so full of ineffable harmony, and gradually forgetting where she was and surrounding objects, had fallen into a voluptuous reverie. What was she meditating? She certainly could not have said; she was yielding unconsciously to the influence of this lovely evening, and travelling into that glorious country of fancy of which life is but too often the nightmare. Doña Marianna was too young, too simple, and too pure yet to possess any memory either sad or sweet; her life had hitherto been an uninterrupted succession of sunshiny days; but she was a woman, and listened for the beatings of her heart, which she was surprised at not hearing. With that curiosity which is innate in her sex, the maiden tried with a timid hand to raise a corner of the veil that covered the future, and to divine mysteries which are incomprehensible, so long as love has not revealed them by sufferings, joy, or grief.
Doña Marianna had rather a long ride through the forest before reaching the plain; but she had so often ridden the road at all hours of the day, she was so thoroughly persuaded that no danger menaced her, that she let the bridle hang on her horse's neck, while she plunged deeper and deeper into the delicious reverie which had seized on her. In the meanwhile, the shades grew deeper; the birds had concealed themselves in the foliage, and ceased their songs; the sun had disappeared, and the hot red beams it had left on the horizon were beginning to die out; the wind blew with greater force through the branches, which uttered long murmurs; the sky was assuming deeper tints, and night was rapidly approaching. Already the shrill cries of the coyotes rose in the quebradas and in the unexplored depths of the forest; hoarse yells disturbed the silence, and announced the awakening of the savage denizens of the forest.
All at once a long, startling, strident howl, bearing some resemblance to the miauling of a cat, burst through the air, and fell on the maiden's ear with an ill-omened echo. Suddenly startled from her reverie, Doña Marianna looked up, and took an anxious glance around her. A slight shudder of fear passed over her body, for her horse, so long left to its own devices, had left the beaten track, and the maiden found herself in a part of the forest unknown to her – she had lost her way. A person lost in an American forest is dead!
These forests are generally entirely composed of trees of the same family, which render it impossible to guide oneself, unless gifted with that miraculous intuition which the Indians and hunters possess, and which enables them to march with certainty in the most inextricable labyrinths. Wherever the eye may turn, it only perceives immense arcades of verdure, infinitely prolonged, wearying the eye by their desperate monotony, and only crossed at intervals by the tracks of wild beasts, which are mixed strangely together, and eventually lead to unknown watering places, nameless streams, that run silently and gloomily beneath the covert, and whose windings cannot possibly be followed.
The spot where the maiden was, was one of the most deserted in the forest; the trees, of prodigious height and size, grew closely together, and were connected by a network of lianas, which, growing in every direction, formed an impassable wall; from the end of the branches hung, in long festoons to the ground, that greyish moss known as Spanish beard, while the tall straight grass that everywhere covered the ground, showed that human foot had not trodden the soil here for a lengthened period. The maiden felt an invincible terror seize upon her. Night had almost completely set in; then the stories her foster brother had told her in the morning about the jaguars returned to her mind in a flood, and were rendered more terrible by the darkness that surrounded her, and the mournful howling that burst forth on all sides. She shuddered, and turned pale as death at the thought of the fearful danger to which she had so imprudently exposed herself.
Then, collecting all her strength for a last appeal, she uttered a cry; but her voice died out without raising an echo. She was alone – lost in the desert by night. What could she do? What would become of her?
The maiden tried to find the route by which she had come, but the road followed haphazard through the herbage no longer existed; the grass trodden by her horse's hoof had sprung up again behind it. Moreover, the night was so dark that Doña Marianna could not see four paces ahead of her; and she soon found that her efforts to find the road would only result in leading her further astray. Under such circumstances, a man would have been in a comparatively far less dangerous position. He could have lit a fire to combat the night chill, and keep the wild beasts at bay; in the event of an attack, his weapons would have allowed him to defend himself: but Doña Marianna had not the means to light a fire; she had no weapons, and had she possessed them, she would not have known how to use them. She was forced to remain motionless at the spot where she was for the whole night, at the hazard of dying of cold or terror.
