Gustave Aimard
The Tiger-Slayer: A Tale of the Indian Desert

Cucharés had had a fearful vision: he rubbed his eyes vigorously to assure himself that he was really awake, and looked again. What he had taken for a vision was only too real; he had seen correctly.

We have said that the river carried with it a large number of stumps and dead trees still laden with their branches. During the last hour an enormous quantity of these trees had collected round the canoe, the lepero being quite unable to account for the fact, the more so because these trees, which by the natural laws should have followed the current and descended with it, cut it in every direction, and, instead of keeping to the centre of the river, drew constantly nearer to the bank on which stood the hacienda.

More extraordinary still, the progress of this floating wood was so carefully regulated that all converged on one point – the extremity of the isthmus at the back of the hacienda. Another alarming fact was, that Cucharés saw eyes flashing and frightful faces peering out from amidst this raft of interlaced branches, stumps and trees.

There was no room for doubt: each tree carried at least one Apache. The Indians, having failed in their attempt on one side, hoped to surprise the colony from the river, and were swimming up concealed by the trees, in the midst of which they had collected. The lepero's position was perplexing. Up to this moment the Indians, busied with their plans, had paid no attention to the canoe; or, if they had noticed it, thought that it belonged to one of their party; but the error might be detected at any moment, and the lepero knew that, in such a case, he would be hopelessly lost.

Already, more than once, hands had been laid for a few seconds on the sides of a frail boat; but, by some providential chance, the owners of those hands had not thought of looking into the interior of the canoe.

All these reflections, and many others, Cucharés indulged in while lying apparently most comfortably at the bottom of the canoe, gently balanced by the ripple, and watching the brilliant stars defile above his head. With his features distorted by terror, his face blanched, and holding a pistol butt convulsively clutched in either hand, while mentally recommending himself to his patron saint, he awaited the catastrophe which every passing minute rendered more imminent.

He had not long to wait.

CHAPTER XIV
THE INDIAN TRICK

Among the indomitable nations that wander about the deserts contained in the delta formed by the Rio Gila, the Rio del Norte, and the Colorado, two claim sovereignty over the rest. They are the Apaches and Comanches. Irreconcilable enemies, incessantly at war with each other, these two nations were now allied by a common hatred of the white men, and all that belongs to that abhorred race.

Excellent hunters, intrepid horsemen, cruel and pitiless warriors, the Apaches and Comanches are terrible neighbours for the inhabitants of New Mexico. Every year, at the same period, these ferocious warriors rush by thousands from their deserts, cross the rivers by fording or swimming, and invade the Mexican frontiers at several points, burning and plundering all they come across, carrying off women and children into slavery, and spreading desolation and terror for more than twenty leagues into a civilised territory.

At the period of the Spanish rule it was not so. Numerous missions, presidios, posts established at regular distances, and bodies of troops scattered along the entire frontier, repulsed the attacks of the Indians, drove them back and kept them within the limits of their hunting grounds; but since the proclamation of their independence the Mexicans have had so much to do in cutting each other's throats, and trampling morality underfoot by their incessant revolutions, that the posts have been called in, the missions plundered, the presidios abandoned, and the frontiers left to guard themselves. The result has been that the Indians gradually drew nearer, and finding no serious resistance before them – for the very simple reason that the Mexican Government forbids, under heavy penalties, any firearms being given to the civilised Indians, who alone could fight successfully against the invaders – the savages have nearly reconquered in a few years what Spain, in her omnipotence, took ages in wresting from them. The result of this is that the most fertile country in the world remains unfilled; not a step can be taken in this hapless country without stumbling on still smoking ruins; and the boldness of the savages has so increased, that they now do not even take the trouble to hide their expeditions, which they make annually at the same period, in the same month nearly on the same day, and that the month is called by them in derision the "Mexican Moon;" that is to say, the moon during which the Mexicans are plundered.

All the facts we narrate here would be the height of buffoonery were they not also the height of atrocity.

The Black Bear had founded the great confederation to which he had previously alluded, for the purpose of restoring himself in the credit of his fellow countrymen, whom several unsuccessful expeditions had turned against him. Like all Indian chiefs of any standing, he was ambitious. He had already succeeded in destroying several smaller tribes, and incorporating them with his nation: he now aspired to nothing less than humbling the Comanches, and compelling them to recognise his authority. It was a difficult, if not impossible enterprise; for the Comanche nation is justly recognised as the most warlike and dangerous in the desert. This nation, which proudly calls itself the Queen of the Prairies, can hardly endure the presence of the Apaches on the ground they consider belonging to themselves, and forming their hunting territory. The Comanches have an immense advantage over the other prairie Indians – an advantage which causes their strength, and makes them so terrible to the nations they combat. Owing to the precaution they have taken of never drinking spirits, they have escaped the general degradation and most of the diseases which decimate the other Indians, and have remained vigorous and intelligent.

The Jester, like the Black Bear, had no great faith in the duration of the alliance formed between the two nations: the hatred he bore the Apaches was, indeed, too profound for him to desire it; but the foundation of the Guetzalli colony by the French, by permanently establishing the white men, on a territory they regarded as belonging to themselves, was a too serious menace for the Comanches and other Indios Bravos, and they attempted every possible scheme to get rid of these troublesome neighbours. Hence they had temporarily hung up their old rancour and private enmities on behalf of the general welfare, but for that only. It was tacitly agreed between them that, so soon as the strangers were expelled, each nation would be free to act as it pleased.

We have seen in what way the Jester began hostilities. The Black Bear had a scheme which he had been ripening for a long time, though not possessing the means to put it in execution; but knowing where to obtain the information he needed, he went to Guaymas. The Tigrero, by proposing to him to enter the colony as a guide, had unsuspectingly supplied him with the pretext he sought. Thus, during the few hours he spent at the hacienda, he had not lost his time, and with that cunning peculiar to the Indians, discovered all the weak points of the place.

There was another reason to inflame his desire to seize the hacienda. Like all the redskins, his dream was to have a white woman in his lodge. Fatality, by bringing him across Doña Anita, had suddenly re-enkindled the secret hope he entertained, and made him suppose he would at length possess the woman he sought so long without being able to find her. It must not be thought that the Black Bear loved the Spanish maiden: no, he wanted a white squaw, that was all. He was humiliated by the knowledge that the other chiefs of his nation had slaves of that colour, while he alone had none. Had Doña Anita been ugly, he would have tried to carry her off all the same. She was lovely – all the better; and we may add here that the Apache chief did not consider her beautiful. According to his Indian notions she was passable, that was all; the only thing he valued in her was her colour.

The Black Bear, standing with his principal warriors on the point of the island, remained silent, with his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes fixed on vacancy, till the moment when the first gleams of the fire kindled by the Jester tinged the horizon with a blood-red hue.

"My brother, the Jester, is an experienced chief," he said, "and a faithful ally. He has well fulfilled the mission intrusted to him. He is now smoking the paleface dogs. What the Comanches have begun the Apaches will finish."

"The Black Bear is the first warrior of his nation," the Little Panther replied. "Who would dare to contend with him?"

The Indian Sachem smiled at this flattery.

"If the Comanches are antelopes, the Apaches are otters; they can, if they please, swim in the water, or march on land. The palefaces have lived. The Great Spirit is in me; it is He who dictates to me the words my tongue utters."

The warriors bowed. The Black Bear continued, after a moment's silence: —

"What do the Apache warriors care for the fire tubes of the palefaces? Have they not long, barbed arrows and intrepid hearts? My brothers will follow me; we will take the scalps of these pale dogs, and fasten them to our horses' manes, and their wives shall be our slaves."

Shouts of joy and enthusiasm greeted these words.

"The river is covered with numerous trunks of trees: my sons are not squaws to fatigue themselves uselessly. They will place themselves on these dead trees, and drift with the current down to the great lodge of the palefaces. Let my brothers prepare. The Black Bear will set out at the sixth hour, when the blue jay has sung twice, and the walkon has uttered its shrill cry. I have spoken. Two hundred warriors will follow the Black Bear."

The chiefs bowed respectfully before the sachem, and left him alone. He wrapped himself up in his buffalo robe, sat down by the fire, lit his calumet by means of a medicine staff adorned with bells and feathers, and remained silent, with his eyes fixed on the gradually extending prairie fire.

The island in which the Apache chief had formed his camp was at no great distance from the French colony. The project of floating down had no very great danger for these men, accustomed to every sort of bodily exercise, and who swam like fish: it possessed the great advantage of completely concealing the approach of the warriors hidden by the water and the branches, and who, at the proper moment, would rush on the colony like a swarm of famished vultures.

The Black Bear was so convinced of the success of this stratagem, which only an Indian brain could have conceived, that he only took with him two hundred chosen men, thinking it unnecessary to lead more against enemies taken by surprise, and who, compelled to defend themselves against the Comanches led by the Jester, would be attacked in the rear and massacred before they had time to look around them.

Night sets in rapidly and suddenly in countries where the twilight does not last longer than a lightning flash. Soon all became darkness, save that, in the distance, a wide strip of coppery red announced the progress of the flames, behind which the Comanches galloped like a pack of hideous wolves over the still glowing earth, trampling under their horses' hoofs the charred wood which was still smouldering.

When the Black Bear considered the moment had arrived he put out his calumet, scattered the fire, and gave a signal perfectly well understood by the Little Panther, who was watching to execute the orders the chief might be pleased to give. Almost immediately the two hundred warriors selected for the expedition made their appearance. They were all picked men, armed with clubs and lances, while their shields hung on their backs. After a moment's silence, employed by the sachem in a species of inspection, he said in a deep voice, —

"We are about to set out; the palefaces we are destined to fight are not Yoris: they are said to be very brave, but the Apaches are the bravest warriors in the world; no one can contend against them. My sons may be killed, but they will conquer."

"The warriors will suffer themselves to be killed," the Indians replied with one voice.

"Wah!" the Black Bear continued, "my sons have spoken well; the Black Bear has confidence in them. The Wacondah will not abandon them; he loves the red men. And now, my sons, we will collect the dead trees floating on the river, and float down the current with them. The cry of the condor will be their signal to rush on the palefaces."

The Indians immediately began executing their chiefs orders. All strove to reach the trunks of trees or stumps. In a few moments a considerable quantity was collected near the point of the island. The Black Bear turned a palling glance around, gave the signal for departure, and was the first to enter the water and clamber on a tree. All the rest followed him immediately without the slightest hesitation.

The Apaches behaved so cleverly in bringing the tree trunks to the island, and had chosen their position so well, that when they set the trees in motion again they almost immediately struck the current, and began to follow the river gently, drifting imperceptibly in the direction of the colony where they wished to land.

Still this navigation, so essentially eccentric, offered grave inconveniences and even serious dangers to those who undertook it. The Indians, left without paddles on the trees, were obliged to follow the stream, only succeeding in holding on by extraordinary efforts. Like all wood floating at the mercy of the waves, the trees continually revolved, compelling those holding on to them to employ all their strength and skill, lest they might be submerged at every moment. There was another difficulty, too: it was absolutely necessary to keep in the water, so as to give the trees the proper direction and make them reach the colony, instead of following the current in the middle of the stream. A further inconvenience, not the least grave of all, was that the trees on which the Apaches were mounted met others as they floated along, against which they struck, or their branches became so interlaced that it was impossible to part them, and they had to be taken on as well; so that, at the end of half an hour, an immense raft was formed, which appeared to occupy the entire width of the river.

The Indians are obstinate: when they have undertaken an expedition they never give it up till it is irrevocably proved to them that success is impossible. This happened on the present occasion; several men were drowned, others wounded so severely that they were compelled to regain the bank against their will. The others, however, held on; and, encouraged by their chief, who did not cease addressing them, they continued to descend the river.

Long before the island from which they set out had disappeared behind them in the windings formed by the irregular course of the river; the point on which the buildings of the colony stood appeared but a short way ahead, when the Black Bear, who was at the head of the party, and whose piercing eye incessantly surveyed the scene around, noticed a canoe a few yards ahead attached to a dead stump, gracefully dancing on the water.

This canoe at once appeared suspicious to the cautious Indian. It did not seem natural to him that, at such an advanced hour of the night, any boat should be thus tied up in the river: but the Black Bear was a man of prompt decision, whom nothing embarrassed, and who rapidly formed his plans. After carefully examining this, mysterious canoe, still stationary before him, he stooped over to the Little Panther, who hung on to the same tree in readiness to execute his orders, and, placing his knife between his teeth, the chief unloosed his hold and dived.

He rose again near the canoe, seized it boldly, pulled it over, and leaped in right on Cucharés' chest and seized him by the throat. This movement was executed so rapidly that the lepero could not employ his weapons, and found himself completely at the mercy of his enemy before he understood what had occurred.

"Wah!" the Indian exclaimed with surprise on recognising him. "What is my brother doing here?"

The lepero had also recognised the chief, and, without knowing why, this restored him a slight degree of courage.

"You see," he answered, "I am sleeping."

"Wah! My brother was afraid of the fire, and for that reason took to the river."

"Quite right, chief; you have hit it the first time. I was afraid of the fire."

"Good!" the Apache continued, with a mocking smile peculiar to himself. "My brother is not alone. Where is the Great Buffalo?"

"Eh? I do not know the Great Buffalo, chief. I don't even know whom you are talking about."

"All the palefaces have a forked tongue. Why does not my brother speak the truth?"

"I am quite willing to do so, but I do not understand you."

"The Black Bear is a great Apache warrior; he can speak the language of his nation, but he knows badly that of the Yoris."

"I did not mean that. You express yourself excellently in Castilian, but you are speaking of a person I do not know."

"Wah! Is that possible?" the Indian said, with feigned amazement. "Does not my brother know the warrior with whom he was two days ago?"

"O! Now I understand; you are talking of Don Martial. Yes, certainly I know him."

"Good!" the chief replied; "I knew that I was not mistaken. Why is my brother not with him at this moment?"

"Probably because I am here," the lepero said with a grin.

"That is true; but as I am in a hurry, and my brother does not wish to answer me, I am going to kill him."

Saying this in a tone which admitted of no tergiversation, the Black Bear raised his knife. The lepero saw well enough that, if he did not obey the Indian, he was lost, and his hesitation ceased as if by enchantment.

"What do you want of me?" he said.

"The truth."

"Question me."

"My brother will answer?"

"Yes."

"Good! Where is the Great Buffalo?"

"There," he said, pointing in the direction of the hacienda.

"How long?"

"For more than an hour."

"For what reason has he gone there?"

"You can guess."

"Yes. Are they together?"

"They ought to be so, as she called him to her."

"Wah! And when will he return?"

"I do not know."

"He did not tell my brother?

"No."

"Will he come back alone?"

"I do not know."

The Indian fixed a glance on him, as if trying to read his very heart. The lepero was calm: he had honestly told all he knew.

"Good!" the chief continued the next moment. "Did not the Great Buffalo agree on a signal with his friend, in order to rejoin when he pleased?"

"He did."

"What is, that signal?"

At this question a singular idea crossed Cucharés' brain. The leperos belong to a strange race, which only bears a likeness to the Neapolitan lazzaroni. At once prodigal and avaricious, greedy and disinterested, extremely rash, and frightful cowards, they are the strangest medley of all that is good and all that is bad. In them everything is blunted and imperfect. They only act on the impulse of the moment, without reflection, or passion. Eternal mockers, they believe in nothing and yet believe in everything. To sum them up in a word, their life is a constant antithesis; and for a jest which may cost their life they would sacrifice their most devoted friend, just as they will save him.

Cucharés was a perfect personification of this eccentric race. Though the Apache chief's knife was scarce two inches from his breast, and he knew that his ferocious enemy would show him no mercy, he suddenly resolved to play him a trick, no matter the cost. We will not add that his friendship for Don Martial unconsciously pleaded on his behalf, for we repeat that the lepero feels no friendship for any one, not even himself, and that his heart only exists in the shape of bowels.

"The chief wishes to know the signal?" he said.

"Yes," the Apache replied,

Cucharés, with the utmost coolness, imitated the cry of the waterhen.

"Silence!" the Black Bear exclaimed; "it is not that."

"Pardon," the lepero replied with a grin; "perhaps I gave it badly," and he repeated it.

The Indian, roused by his enemy's impudence, rushed upon him, resolved to finish him with his knife; but, blinded by his fury, he calculated badly, and gave too violent an oscillation to the canoe. The light bark, whose equilibrium was disturbed, turned over, and the two men rolled into the river. Once in the water, the lepero, who swam like an otter, set off in the direction of the hacienda as fast as he could speed. But if he swam well, the Black Bear swam at least equally well. The first movement of surprise overcome, the chief almost immediately discovered his enemy's trail.

Then began the two men a contest of skill and strength. Perhaps it would have ended to the advantage of the white man, who had a considerable start, had not several warriors, witnesses of what had occurred, swum off too, and cut off the fugitive's retreat. Cucharés saw that flight was impossible; hence, not attempting to continue a hopeless struggle, he proceeded towards a tree, to which he clung, and awaited with magnificent coolness whatever might happen.

The Black Bear soon came up with him. The chief displayed no ill temper at the trick the lepero had played him.

"Wah!" he merely said, "my brother is a warrior: he has the craft of the opossum."

"Of what use is it to me," Cucharés answered carelessly, "if I cannot succeed in saving my scalp?"

"Perhaps," the Indian said. "Let my brother tell me where the Great Buffalo is."

"I have already told you, chief."

"Yes, my brother told me that his friend was in the great lodge of the palefaces, but he did not say at what place."

"Hum! And if I tell you shall I be free?"

"Yes, if my brother has not a forked tongue: if he speaks the truth, so soon as we land on the bank, he will be free to go where he pleases."

"A poor favour!" the lepero muttered, shaking his head.

"Well," the chief continued, "what will my brother do?"

"My faith!" Cucharés said, suddenly making up his mind, "I have done for Don Martial all it was humanly possible to do. Now that he is warned, each for himself. I must save my skin. Stay, chief; follow the direction of my finger. You see those mangroves on the projecting point?"

"I see them."

"Well, behind those mangroves you will find the man you call the Great Buffalo."

"Good! The Black Bear is a chief; he has only one word; the paleface shall be free."

"Thanks."

The conversation was hurriedly broken off, more especially as the Apaches were rapidly approaching the banks. They had let go of the most of the trees to which they had hitherto been clinging, and were collected in small groups of ten or twelve on the larger trees.

The hacienda was silent; not a light burned there; all was calm; it looked like a deserted habitation. This profound tranquility excited the suspicions of the Black Bear; it seemed to forebode an impending storm. Before risking a landing he wished to assure himself positively of what he had to expect. He uttered the cry of the iguana, and swam towards the bank. The Apaches comprehended their chiefs intention, and stopped. At the end of a few moments they saw him crawling along the sand. The Black Bear walked a few paces along; he saw nothing, heard nothing; then, completely reassured, he returned to the water's edge, and gave the signal for landing.

The Apaches quitted the trees and began swimming. Cucharés profited by the moment of disorder to disappear, which was an easy matter, as no one was thinking of him. Still the Apaches formed in a single line, and swam vigorously; in a few minutes they reached the bank, and landed; then they rushed at full speed towards the hacienda.

"Fire!" a stentorian voice suddenly commanded. A loud and frightful discharge instantaneously followed. The Apaches responded by howlings of rage, and themselves surprised by the men they had hoped to surprise, rushed upon them, brandishing their weapons.