Gustave Aimard
The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan War

He wore the brilliant and luxurious Mexican costume; his calzoneras of violet velvet, open above the knee, and decorated with a profusion of carved gold buttons, displayed his shapely leg, elegantly imprisoned in plaid silk stockings; his manga, thrown over, his shoulder, was bordered with a wide gold galoon, a girdle of white China crape confined his hips, and bore a pair of pistols and a sheathless machete, with a broad and glittering blade, passed through a ring of bronzed steel: an American rifle, studded with silver ornaments, was slung over his shoulder.

There was in the person of this man, still so young, an attraction so powerful, a dominating fire so strange, that it was impossible to see him without loving or hating him – so profound was the impression he unconsciously produced on all those, without exception, with whom chance brought him into relation.

No one knew who he was, or whence he came; his very name was unknown; and people had consequently been compelled to give him a sobriquet, with which, however, he did not appear at all offended.

As for his character, the following scenes will make it sufficiently well known for us to dispense for the present with entering into any lengthened details.

CHAPTER XII
LOVE AND JEALOUSY

The first feeling of terror which had caused the three men to recoil at the appearance of the Jaguar, had gradually worn off; their effrontery, if not their courage, had returned on seeing the inoffensive manner of the man they had long been accustomed to fear.

Ruperto, the biggest scoundrel of the three, was the first to regain his coolness, and, reflecting that the man who caused them such terror was alone, and therefore could not have the force on his side, he walked resolutely toward him.

"Rayo de Dios!" he said in a brutal voice, "Let that girl alone, for she deserves not only what has happened to her, but also the chastisement we are about to inflict on her at once."

The young man started as if a snake had stung him, and darted over his shoulder a glance full of menace at the man who had addressed him.

"Are you speaking to me in that way?" he asked.

"To whom else?" the other answered, resolutely, although in his heart he felt alarmed at the way in which his question had been taken up.

"Ah!" was all the Jaguar said; and without adding another word, he walked slowly toward Ruperto, whom he held motionless beneath his fascinating glance, and who watched him come up with a terror that momentarily increased.

On arriving about a yard from the Mexican the young man stopped.

This scene, apparently so simple, must, however, have possessed a terrible significance for the witnesses, for all bosoms were heaving, every brow was pallid.

The Jaguar, with livid face, crisped features, eyes inflamed with blood, and brows frowning, thrust forth his arm to seize Ruperto, who, overcome by terror, did not make a single movement to escape from this clutch, which he knew, however, would be mortal.

Suddenly Carmela bounded like a startled fawn, and cast herself between the two men.

"Oh!" she shrieked, as she clasped her hands; "have pity on him; do not kill him, in Heaven's name!"

The young man's face suddenly changed, and assumed an expression of ineffable gentleness.

"Be it so!" he said; "Since such is your wish, he shall not die; but he insulted you, Carmela, and must be punished. On your knees, villain!" he continued, as he turned to Ruperto and pressed his hand heavily on his shoulder; "On your knees, and ask pardon of this angel."

Ruperto sunk together beneath the weight of this iron hand, and fell at the maiden's feet, murmuring in a timid voice —

"Pardon, pardon!"

"Enough," the Jaguar then said, with a terrible accent; "rise, and thank your God for having escaped this time again from my vengeance. Open the door, Carmela."

The maiden obeyed.

"To horse!" the Jaguar continued; "Go and wait for me at the Rio Seco, and mind that not one stirs before my arrival, under penalty of death. Begone!"

The three men bowed their heads, and went out without reply; an instant later the gallop of their horses could be heard echoing on the sandy road.

The two young people remained alone in the venta.

The Jaguar sat down at the table where the men had been drinking a moment previously, buried his face in his hands, and seemed plunged in serious thought.

Carmela looked at him with a mixture of timidity and fear, not daring to address him.

At length, after a considerable period had elapsed, the young man raised his head, and looked around him, as if suddenly aroused from deep sleep.

"What, you remained here?" he said to her.

"Yes," she answered, softly.

"Thanks, Carmela – you are kind! You alone love me, when all else hates me."

"Have I not reason to do so?"

The Jaguar smiled mournfully, but answered this question by asking another, the usual tactics of persons who do not wish to let their thoughts be read.

"Now, tell me frankly what happened between you and those scoundrels."

The maiden seemed to hesitate for a moment, but made up her mind and confessed the warning she gave the Captain of Dragoons.

"You were wrong," the Jaguar said sternly to her; "your imprudence may produce serious complications. Yet I dare not blame you; you are a woman, and consequently ignorant of many things. Are you alone here?"

"Quite alone."

"What imprudence! How can Tranquil leave you thus?"

"His duties keep him at present at the Larch-tree hacienda, where there is going to be a grand hunt in a few days."

"Hum! At any rate, Quoniam ought to have remained with you."

"He could not, for Tranquil required his help."

"The devil is in the business, as it seems," he said, in an ill-humoured voice; "he must be mad thus to abandon a girl alone in a venta situated alone in the midst of such a desolate country, during whole weeks."

"I was not alone, for Lanzi was left with me."

"Ah! And what has become of him?"

"A little before sunrise I sent him to kill a little game."

"A capital reason; and you have been left exposed to the coarse language and ill-treatment of the first scoundrel who thought proper to insult you."

"I did not think there was any danger."

"Now, I trust you are undeceived."

"Oh!" she cried, with a start of terror, "That shall never happen again, I swear to you."

"Good! But I think I hear Lanzi's footsteps."

She looked out.

"Yes," she replied, "here he is."

The man shortly after entered. He was of about forty years of age, with an intelligent and bold face; he had on his shoulders a magnificent deer, fastened much in the way Swiss hunters carry a chamois, and in his right hand he held a gun.

He gave a look of annoyance on perceiving the young man; still, he bowed slightly to him as he placed the venison on the table.

"Oh, oh," the Jaguar said, in a good-humoured tone, "you have had a good hunt it seems, Lanzi; are the deer plentiful on the plain?"

"I have known the time when they were more numerous," he replied, gruffly; "but now," he added, shaking his head sorrowfully, "it is a hard matter for a poor man to kill one or two in a day."

The young man smiled.

"They will return," he said.

"No, no," Lanzi replied, "when the deer have been once startled, they do not return to the parts they have left, however much it might be to their benefit to do so."

"You must put up with it then, master, and take things as they are."

"Well, what else do I?" he growled, as he angrily turned his back on the speaker.

And, after this sally, he reloaded the game on his shoulders, and entered the other room.

"Lanzi is not amiable to-day," the Jaguar observed, when he found himself alone with Carmela.

"He is annoyed at meeting you here."

The young man frowned.

"Why so?" he asked.

Carmela blushed and looked down without answering.

The Jaguar looked at her searchingly for a moment.

"I understand," he said at last; "my presence in this hostelry displeases somebody – him, perhaps."

"Why should it displease him? He is not the master, I suppose."

"That is true; then it displeases your father – is that it?"

The maiden gave a nod of assent.

The Jaguar sprung up violently, and walked up and down the room, with his head down, and his arms behind his back; after a few minutes of this behaviour, which Carmela followed with an anxious eye, he stopped suddenly before her, raised his head, and looked at her fixedly.

"And does my presence here, Carmela, displease you also?"

The girl remained silent.

"Reply," he went on.

"I did not say so," she murmured, with hesitation.

"No," he said, with a bitter smile, "but you think so, Carmela, though you have not the courage to confess it to my face."

She drew herself up proudly.

"You are unjust to me," she replied, with peevish excitement, "unjust and unkind. Why should I —I, desire your absence? You never did me any harm; on the contrary, I have ever found you ready to defend me; this very day you did not hesitate to protect me from the ill-treatment of the wretches who insulted me."

"Ah! You allow it?"

"Why should I not allow it, since it is true? Do you consider me ungrateful, then?"

"No, Carmela, you are only a woman," he replied, bitterly.

"I do not understand your meaning, and do not wish to do so; I alone here defend you, when my father, or Quoniam, or anyone else accuses you. Is it my fault, if, owing to your character, and the mysterious life you lead, you are placed beyond the pale of ordinary existence? Am I responsible for the silence you insist on maintaining on all that concerns you personally? You know my father; you know how kind, frank, and worthy he is; many times he has tried, by circuitous ways, to lead you to an honourable explanation – but you have always repulsed his advances. You must, therefore, only blame yourself for the general isolation in which you are left, and the solitude formed around you; and do not address reproaches to the only person who, up to the present, has dared to support you against all."

"It is true," he answered, bitterly; "I am a madman. I acknowledge my wrongs towards you, Carmela, for you say truly; in all this world, you alone have been constantly kind and compassionate for the reprobate – for the man whom the general hatred pursues."

"Hatred as foolish as it is unjust."

"And which you do not share in – is it not?" he exclaimed, sharply.

"No, I do not share it; still, I suffer from your obstinacy; for, in spite of all that is said of you, I believe you to be honourable."

"Thank you, Carmela; I wish I had it in my power to prove immediately that you are right, and give a denial to those who insult me like cowards behind my back, and tremble when I stand before them. Unfortunately, that is impossible for the present; but the day will come, I hope, when it will be permitted me to make myself known as what I really am, and throw off the mask that stifles me; and then – "

"Then?" she repeated, seeing that he hesitated.

Again he hesitated.

"Then," he said, in a choking voice, "I shall have a question to ask you, and a request to make."

The maiden blushed, but recovered herself directly.

"You will find me ready to answer both," she murmured, in a low and inarticulate voice.

"Do you mean it?" he asked, joyfully.

"I swear it to you."

A flash of happiness lit up the young man's face like a sunbeam.

"My good Carmela," he said, in a deep voice, "when the moment arrives, I shall remind you of your promise."

She bowed her head in dumb assent.

There was a moment of silence. The maiden attended to her household duties with that bird-like lissomness and activity peculiar to women; the Jaguar walked up and down the room with a preoccupied air; after a few moments he went to the door and looked out.

"I must be gone," he said.

She gave him a scrutinizing glance.

"Ah," she said.

"Yes; then be kind enough to order Lanzi to prepare Santiago. Perhaps if I told him so myself he would feel disinclined to do it. I fancy I can see I am no longer in his good graces."

"I will go," she answered him with a smile.

The young man watched her depart with a stifled sigh.

"What is this I feel?" he muttered, as he pressed his hand powerfully against his heart, as if he suddenly felt a sudden pain: "Can it be what people call love? I am mad!" he went on, directly after; "How can I, the Jaguar, love? Can a reprobate be beloved?"

A bitter smile contracted his lips; he frowned and muttered, in a hollow voice —

"Every man has his task in this world, and I shall know how to accomplish mine."

Carmela came in again.

"Santiago will be ready in a moment. Here are your vaquera boots, which Lanzi begged me to give you."

"Thank you," he said.

And he began fastening on his legs those two pieces of stamped leather which in Mexico play the part of gaiters, and serve to protect the rider from the horse.

While the young man fastened on his botas, with one foot on the bench, and his body bent forward, Carmela examined him attentively, with an expression of timid hesitation.

The Jaguar noticed it.

"What do you want?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she said, stammering.

"You are deceiving me, Carmela. Come – time presses – tell me the truth."

"Well," she replied, with a hesitation more and more marked, "I have a prayer to make to you."

"Speak quickly, Niña, for you know that, whatever it may be, I grant it to you beforehand."

"You swear it?"

"I do."

"Well, whatever may happen, I desire that if you meet the Captain of Dragoons who was here this morning, you will grant him your protection."

The young man sprung up, as if stung by a viper.

"Ah, then," he shrieked, "what I was told was true, then?"

"I do not know what you are alluding to, but I repeat my request."

"I do not know the man, since I did not arrive until after his departure."

"Yes, you know him," she continued, boldly. "Why seek a subterfuge, if you wish to break the promise you made me? It would be better to be frank."

"It is well," he replied, in a gloomy voice and a tone of biting irony; "reassure yourself Carmela, I will defend your lover."

And he rushed madly from the venta.

"Oh!" the maiden exclaimed, as she fell on a bench, and melted into tears; "Oh! That demon is properly christened the Jaguar! He has a tiger's heart in his bosom."

She buried her face in her hands, and broke out into sobs.

At the same moment the rapid gallop of a retreating horse was heard.

CHAPTER XIII
CARMELA

Before we continue our story, it is indispensable for us to give our readers certain important and indispensable details about facts that have to come.

Among the provinces of the vast territory of New Spain, there is one, the most eastern of all, whose real value the Government of the Viceroys has constantly ignored. This ignorance was kept up by the Mexican Republic, which, at the period of the proclamation of Independence, did not think it worthy of being formed into a separate state, and, without dreaming of what might happen at a later date, negligently allowed it to be colonized by the North Americans, who even at that period seemed infected by that fever of encroachment and aggrandizement which has now become a species of endemic mania among these worthy citizens – we refer to Texas.

This magnificent country is one of the most fortunately situated in Mexico; territorially regarded, it is immense, no country is better watered, for considerable rivers pour into the sea, their waters swollen by countless streams which fertilize this country, as they traverse it in every direction; and these currents and rivers being deeply imbedded, never form those wide expanses of water by their overflow, which in other countries are transformed into fetid marshes.

The climate of Texas is healthy, and exempt from those frightful diseases which have given such a sinister celebrity to certain countries of the New World.

The natural borders of Texas are the Sabina on the East, Red River on the north, to the west a chain of lofty mountains, which enters vast prairies, and the Rio Bravo del Norte, and lastly, from the mouth of the latter river to that of the Sabina, the Gulf of Mexico.

We have said that the Spaniards were almost ignorant of the real value of Texas, although they had been acquainted with it for a very long time, for it is almost certain that in 1536, Cabeça de Vaca traversed it when he proceeded from Florida to the northern provinces of Mexico.

Still the honour of the first settlement attempted in this fine country belongs incontestably to France.

In fact, the unfortunate and celebrated Robert de la Salle, ordered by the Marquis de Siegnelay to discover the mouth of the Mississippi in 1684, made a mistake, and entered the Rio de Colorado, which he descended with countless difficulties, till he reached the San Bernardo lagoon, where he built a fort between Velasco and Matagorda, and took possession of the country. We will enter into no further details about this bold explorer, who twice attempted to reach the unknown lands to the east of Mexico, and was traitorously assassinated in 1687, by villains who belonged to his band.

A later reminiscence attaches France to Texas, for it was there that General Lallemand attempted in 1817 to found, under the name of Champ d'Asyle, a colony of French refugees, the unhappy relics of the invincible armies of the first empire. This colony, situated about ten leagues from Galveston, was utterly destroyed by the orders of the Viceroy Apodaca, by virtue of the despotic system, constantly followed by the Spaniards of the New World, of not allowing strangers, under any pretext, to establish themselves on any point of their territory.

We shall be forgiven these prosy details when our readers reflect that this country, scarce twenty years free, with a superficies of one hundred thousand acres and more, and inhabited by two hundred thousand persons at the most, has, however, entered on an era of prosperity and progress, which must inevitably arouse the attention of European Governments, and the sympathies of intelligent men of all nations.

At the period when the events occurred which we have undertaken to narrate, that is to say in the later half of 1829, Texas still belonged to Mexico, but its glorious revolution had begun, it was struggling valiantly to escape from the disgraceful yoke of the central government, and proclaim its independence.

Before, however, we continue our story, we must explain how it was that Tranquil, the Canadian hunter, and Quoniam, the Negro, who was indebted to him for liberty, whom we left on the Upper Missouri leading the free life of wood-rangers, found themselves established, as it were, in Texas, and how the hunter had a daughter, or, at any rate, called his daughter, the lovely fair-haired girl we have presented to the reader under the name of Carmela.

About twelve years before the day we visit the Venta del Potrero, Tranquil arrived at the same hostelry, accompanied by two comrades, and a child of five to six years of age, with blue eyes, ruddy lips, and golden hair, who was no other than Carmela; as for his comrades, one was Quoniam, the other an Indian half-breed, who answered to the name of Lanzi.

The sun was just about setting when the little party halted in front of the venta.

The host, but little accustomed in this desolate country, close to the Indian border, to see travellers, and especially at so late an hour, had already closed and barred his house, and was himself getting ready for bed, when the unexpected arrival of our friends forced him to alter his arrangements for the night.

It was, however, only with marked repugnance, and on the repeated assurances the travellers made him that he had nought to fear from them, that he at length decided to open his door, and admit them to his house.

Once that he had resolved to receive them, the host was as he should be to his guests, that is to say, polite and attentive, as far as that can enter into the character of a Mexican landlord, a race, be it noted in a parenthesis, the least hospitable in existence.

He was a short, stout man, with cat-like manners, and crafty looks, already of a certain age, but still quick and active.

When the travellers had placed their horses in the corral, before a good stock of alfalfa, and had themselves supped with the appetite of men who have made a long journey, the ice was broken between them and the host, thanks to a few tragos of Catalonian refino, liberally offered by the Canadian, and the conversation went on upon a footing of the truest cordiality, while the little girl, carefully wrapped up in the hunter's warm zarapé, was sleeping with that calm and simple carelessness peculiar to that happy age when the present is all in all, and the future does not exist.

"Well, gossip," Tranquil said gaily, as he poured out a glass of refino for the host; "I fancy you must lead a jolly life of it here."

"I?"

"Hang it, yes; you go to bed with the bees, and I feel certain you are in no hurry to get up in the morning."

"What else can I do in this accursed desert, where I have buried myself for my sins?"

"Are travellers so rare, then?"

"Yes and no; it depends on the meaning you give the word."

"Confound it! there are not two meanings, I should fancy."

"Yes, two very distinct meanings."

"Nonsense! I am curious to know them."

"That is easy enough: there is no lack of vagabonds of every colour in the country, and if I liked, they would fill my house the whole blessed day; but they would not shew me the colour of their money."

"Ah, very good; but these estimable Caballeros do not constitute the whole of your customers, I presume?"

"No; there are also the Indios Bravos, Comanches, Apaches, and Pawnees, and Heaven alone knows who else, who prowl about the neighbourhood from time to time."

"Hum! those are awkward neighbours, and if you have only such customers, I am beginning to be of your opinion; still, you must now and then receive pleasanter visits."

"Yes, from time to time, straggling travellers like yourself, of course; but the profits, in any case, are far from covering the expenses."

"That is true, here's your health."

"The same to you."

"In that case, though, allow me a remark which may appear to you indiscreet."

"Speak, speak, Caballeros, we are talking as friends, so have no chance of offence."

"You are right. If you are so uncomfortable here, why the deuce do you remain?"

"Why, where would you have me go?"

"Well, I do not know, but you would be better off anywhere than here."

"Ah! if it only depended on me," he said, with a sigh.

"Have you anybody with you here?"

"No, I am alone."

"Well, what prevents you going then?"

"Eh, Caramba, the money! All I possessed, and that was not much, was spent in building this house, and installing myself, and I could not have managed it had it not been for the peons."

"Is there a hacienda here?"

"Yes, the Larch tree hacienda, about four leagues off, so that, you understand, if I go, I must give up my all."

"Ah, ah," Tranquil said thoughtfully, "very good, go on. Why not sell it?"

"Where are the buyers? Do you fancy it so easy to find about here a man with four or five hundred piastres in his pocket; and, moreover, ready to commit an act of folly?"

"Well, I can't say, but I fancy by seeking he could be found."

"Nonsense, gossip, you are jesting!"

"On my word I am not," Tranquil said, suddenly changing his tone, "and I will prove it to you."

"Good."

"You say you will sell your house for four hundred piastres?"

"Did I say four hundred?"

"Don't finesse, you did."

"Very good, then; I admit it: what next?"

"Well, I will buy it, if you like."

"You?"

"Why not?"

"I will think about it."

"That is done; say yes or no, take it, or leave it; perhaps I may have altered my mind in five minutes, so decide."

The landlord gave the Canadian a searching glance. "I accept," he said.

"Good: but I will not give you four hundred piastres."

"How much?" the other said, crying off.

"I will give you six hundred."

The landlord looked at him in amazement.

"I am quite agreeable," he said.

"But on one condition."

"What is it?"

"That to-morrow, so soon as the sale is completed, you will mount your horse – you have one, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"Well, you will mount, start, and never show yourself here again."

"Oh! You may be quite certain on that point."

"It's settled then?"

"Perfectly."

"Then let your witnesses be ready at day-break."

"They shall be."

The conversation ended here. The travellers wrapped themselves in their fressadas and zarapés, lay down on the lumpy floor of the room, and fell asleep; the host followed their example.

As was arranged between them, the landlord, a little before daybreak, saddled his horse, and went to fetch the witnesses necessary for the validity of the transaction; for this purpose he galloped to the Larch-tree hacienda and returned by sunrise, accompanied by the major-domo and seven or eight peons.

The major-domo, the only one who could read and write, drew up the deed of sale, and after collecting all the persons, read it aloud.

Tranquil then took thirty-seven and a half gold onzas from his girdle, and spread them out on the table.

"Be witnesses, Caballeros," the major-domo said, addressing his audience, "that the Señor Tranquilo has paid the six hundred piastres agreed on for the purchase of the Venta del Potrero."

"We are witness," they replied.

Then all present, the major-domo at their head, passed into the corral behind the house.

On reaching it, Tranquil pulled up a tuft of grass which he cast over his shoulder; then picking up a stone, he hurled it over the opposite wall: according to the terms of Mexican law, he was now the owner.

"Be witness, Señores," the major-domo again spoke, "that Señor Tranquilo, here present, has legally taken possession of this estate. Dios y libertad!"

"Dios y libertad!" the others shouted; "Long life to the new huesped!"

All the formalities being performed, they now returned to the house, when Tranquil poured out bumpers for his witnesses, whom this unexpected liberality filled with delight.

The ex-landlord, faithful to his agreement, pressed the buyer's hand, mounted his horse, and went off, wishing him good luck. From that day they never heard of him again.

This was the manner in which the hunter arrived in Texas, and became a landed proprietor.

He left Lanzi and Quoniam at the venta with Carmela. As for himself, thanks to the patronage of the major-domo, who recommended him to his master, Don Hilario de Vaureal, he entered the Larch-tree hacienda in the capacity of tigrero or tiger-killer.

Although the country selected by the hunter to establish himself was on the confines of the Mexican border, and, for that reason, almost deserted, the vaqueros and peons cudgelled their brains for some time in trying to discover the reason which bad compelled so clever and brave a hunter as the Canadian to retire there. But all the efforts made to discover this reason, all the questions asked, remained without result; the hunter's comrades and himself remained dumb; as for the little girl, she knew nothing.

At length the disappointed people gave up trying to find the explanation of this enigma, trusting to time, that great clearer up of mysteries, to tell them at length the truth which was so carefully concealed.

But weeks, months, years elapsed, and nothing raised even a corner of the hunter's secret.

Carmela had grown an exquisite maiden, and the venta had increased the number of its customers. This border, hitherto so quiet, owing to its remoteness from the towns and pueblos, felt the movement which the revolutionary ideas imparted to the centre of the country; travellers became more frequent, and the hunter, who had up to this time appeared rather careless as to the future, trusting for his safety to the isolation of his abode, began to grow anxious, not for himself, but for Carmela, who was exposed almost definitively to the bold attempts not only of lovers, whom her beauty attracted, as honey does flies, but also to those of the ruffians whom the troublous times had drawn out of their lairs, and who wandered about all the roads like coyotes seeking prey to devour.

The hunter, wishful no longer to leave the maiden in the dangerous position into which circumstances had thrown her, was actively employed in warding off the misfortunes he foresaw; for, although it is impossible, for the present, to know what ties attached him to the girl who called him father, we will state here that he felt a really paternal affection and absolute devotion for her, in which, indeed, Quoniam and Lanzi imitated him. Carmela to these three men was neither girl nor woman; she was an idol they adored on their bended knees, and for whom they would have readily sacrificed their lives at the slightest sign it might please her to make them.

A smile from Carmela rendered them happy; the slightest frown from her made them sorrowful.

We must add, that although she was aware of the full extent of her power, Carmela did not abuse it, and it was her greatest joy to see herself surrounded by these three hearts which were so entirely devoted to her.

Now that we have given these details, doubtless very imperfect, but the only ones possible, we will resume our story at the point where we left it in the penultimate chapter.