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

"Now," he said hurriedly, "remember this. Your father and yourself were carried off from the hacienda by the Apaches; accident brought us in your way, and – "

"You save us, I suppose?" she said with a smile.

"Quite correct; but utter shrill cries, as if you felt in great alarm. You understand, do you not?"

"Perfectly."

The play was performed in the way arranged. The girl uttered piercing shrieks, to which the two adventurers replied by discharging their rifles and pistols; they then rushed toward the hacendero, whom they hastened to liberate from his bonds, and to whom they restored not only the use of his limbs, but also of his eyes and tongue. Don Sylva half rose, and looked around him: he saw his daughter fastened to a tree, from which two men were freeing her. The hacendero raised his eyes to heaven, and uttered a fervent prayer.

So soon as Doña Anita was free she ran to her father, and cast herself in his arms. As she embraced him she hid her face, which blushed, perhaps, for shame at this unworthy deception, on the old man's breast.

"My poor darling child," he murmured, with tears in his eyes, "It was for you, for you alone, I trembled during the whole of this fearful night."

The girl made no reply, for she felt stung to the heart by this reproach. Don Martial and Cucharés, judging the moment favourable, then approached, holding their smoking rifles in their hands. On recognising them a cloud passed over the hacendero's face – a vague suspicion gnawed at his heart; he bent a searching glance on the two men and on his daughter, and rose with frowning brow and quivering lips, though not uttering a word. Don Martial was embarrassed by this silence, which he had been far from anticipating. After the service he was supposed to have done Don Sylva, the duty of speaking first fell upon him.

"I am happy," he said in an embarrassed voice, "to have arrived here so fortunately, Don Sylva, as I was enabled to save you from the redskins."

"I thank you, señor Don Martial," the hacendero answered dryly. "I could expect nothing less from your gallantry. It was written, so it seems, that after saving the daughter, you must also save the father. You are destined, I see it, to be the liberator of my entire family: receive my sincere thanks."

These words were uttered with an accent of raillery that pierced the Tigrero like an arrow: he could not find a word in reply, and bowed awkwardly in order to hide his embarrassment.

"My father," Doña Anita said in a caressing tone, "Don Martial has risked his life for us."

"Have I not thanked him for it?" he continued. "The affair was a sharp one, as it seems, but the heathens escaped very quickly. Was there no one killed?"

And saying this the hacendero affected to look carefully around him. Don Martial drew himself up.

"Señor Don Sylva de Torrés," he said in a firm voice, "as chance has brought us once again face to face permit me to tell you that few men are so devoted to you as myself."

"You have just proved, caballero."

"Leave that out of sight," he went on hurriedly. "Now that you are free, and can act as you please, command me. What would you of me? I am ready to do anything you please, in order to prove to you how happy I should be in doing you a service."

"That is language I can understand, caballero, and to which I will frankly respond. Important reasons compel me to return to the French colony of Guetzalli, whence the heathens carried me off so treacherously."

"When do you wish to start?"

"At once, if that be possible."

"Everything is possible, caballero. Still, I would call your attention to the fact that we are nearly thirty leagues from that hacienda; that the country in which we now are is a desert; that we should have great difficulty in finding horses: and, with the best will in the world, we cannot, make the journey on foot."

"Especially my daughter, I presume," the other remarked with a sardonic smile.

"Yes," the Tigrero said, "especially the señorita."

"What else is to be done? for I must return there – with my daughter," he added, purposely laying stress on the last three words, "and that so soon as possible."

The Tigrero did not utter the exact truth in telling Don Sylva they were thirty leagues from the colony. It was not more than eighteen; but in a country like this, where roads do not exist, fifteen leagues are an almost insurmountable obstacle to a man not thoroughly acquainted with desert life. Don Sylva, though he had never travelled under other than favourable circumstances – that is to say, with all the comfort it is possible to obtain in these remote regions – was aware, theoretically, if not practically, of all the difficulties which would rise before him with each step, and what obstacles would check his movements. His resolution was made almost immediately.

Don Sylva, like a good many of his countrymen, was gifted with rare obstinacy. When he had formed a plan, the greater the obstacles which prevented its accomplishment, the greater his determination to carry it out.

"Listen," he said to Don Martial; "I wish to be frank with you. I fancy I tell you nothing new in announcing my daughter's marriage with the Count de Lhorailles. That marriage must be performed: I have sworn it, and it shall be, whatever may be said or done to impede it. And now I am about to make trial of the devotion you boast of offering me."

"Speak, señor."

"You will send your companion to the Count de Lhorailles; he will carry him a message to calm his uneasiness and announce my speedy arrival."

"Good!"

"Will you do it?"

"At once."

"Thanks! Now, as regards yourself personally, I leave you at liberty to follow or leave us at your pleasure; but in the first place, we want horses, arms, and, above all, an escort. I do not wish to fall once more into the hands of the heathen. Perhaps I shall not have the good fortune to escape from them so easily as on this occasion."

"Remain here: in two hours I will return with horses. As for an escort, I will try and procure you one, although I do not promise it. As you allow me to do so, I will accompany you till you have rejoined the conde. I hope, during the period I may have the felicity of passing near you, to succeed in proving to you that you have judged me wrongfully."

These words were pronounced with such an accent of truth that the hacendero felt moved.

"Whatever may happen," he said, "I thank you: you will none the less have done me an immense service, for which I shall be ever grateful to you."

Don Sylva tore a leaf from his pocketbook, on which he wrote a few lines in pencil, folded it, and handed it to the Tigrero.

"Are you sure of that man?" he asked him.

"As of myself," Don Martial replied evasively. "Be assured that he will see the conde."

The hacendero made a sign of satisfaction as the Tigrero went up to Cucharés.

"Listen," he said aloud as he gave him the paper. "Within two days you must have delivered this to the chief of Guetzalli. You understand me?"

"Yes," the lepero replied.

"Go, and may Heaven protect you from all evil encounters! In a quarter of an hour behind that mound," he hurriedly added in a whisper.

"Agreed," the other said with a bow.

"Take the canoe," the Tigrero continued.

Had the hacendero conceived any doubts, they were dissipated when he saw Cucharés leap into the canoe, seize the paddles, and depart without exchanging a signal with the Tigrero, or even turning his head.

"The first part of your instructions is fulfilled," said the Tigrero, returning to Don Sylva's side. "Now for the second part. Take my pistols and musket. In case of any alarm you can defend yourself. I leave you here. Pray do not move, and within two hours at the latest I will rejoin you."

"Do you know where to find horses?"

"Do you not remember that the desert is my domain?" he returned with a melancholy smile. "I am at home here, as I shall prove to you. Farewell for the present."

And he went off in a direction opposed to that taken by the canoe. When he had disappeared from Don Sylva's sight behind a clump of trees and shrubs, the Tigrero turned sharply to the right and ran back. Cucharés, carelessly seated on the ground, was smoking a cigarette while awaiting him.

"No words, but deeds," the Tigrero said. "We have no time to waste."

"I am listening,"

"Look at this diamond;" and he pointed to a ring through which his neck handkerchief was drawn.

"It is worth 6000 piastres," Cucharés said, examining it like a judge.

Don Martial handed it to him.

"I give it you," he said.

"What am I to do for it?"

"First hand me the letter."

"Here it is."

Don Martial took it and tore it into impalpable fragments.

"Next?" Cucharés continued.

"Next, I have another diamond like that one at your service. You know me?"

"Yes; I accept."

"On one condition."

"I know it," said the other with a significant sign.

"And you accept?"

"Of course I do."

"It is a bargain."

"He shall never trouble you again."

"Good! But you understand that I shall need proofs."

"You shall have them."

"Good-by, then."

The two accomplices parted, well satisfied with each other. A nod was as good as a wink in such a case. We have seen how Cucharés acquitted himself of the mission intrusted to him by Don Sylva. Don Martial, after his short conversation with Cucharés, went to look for horses. Two hours later he had returned. He not only brought excellent horses, but had hired four peons, or men who called themselves so, to act as escort. The hacendero comprehended all the delicacy of Don Martial's conduct: and though the air and garb of his defenders were not completely orthodox, he warmly thanked the Tigrero for the trouble he had taken to supply his wants. Reassured as to his journey, he breakfasted with good appetite on a lump of venison, washed down with pulque, which Don Martial had procured. Then, so soon as the meal was over, the little band, well armed, set out resolutely in the direction of Guetzalli, where Don Sylva expected to arrive in three days, if nothing thwarted his calculations.

CHAPTER XIX
IN THE PRAIRIE

The Mexican frontier, up to the old Jesuit missions, now abandoned and falling in ruins, forms the skirt of the great prairie of the Rio Gila or of Apacheria, which extends as far as the mournful desert of the Norte. In this portion of the prairie nature expands all that richness of growth and vegetation which may be in vain sought elsewhere.

Guetzalli was built by Count de Lhorailles on the ruins of a once flourishing mission of the reverend Jesuits, which the decree commanding their expulsion had compelled them to abandon. Without entering into discussion for or against the Jesuits, we will say, en passant, that these clergy rendered immense services in America; that all the missions thus founded in the desert prospered; that the Indians flocked in by thousands to range themselves beneath their paternal laws: and that certain missions, whose names we could quote were it necessary, counted as many as sixty thousand neophytes; that, as a proof of the excellence of their system, when the order was given them to give up their mission to other monks, and withdraw, their proselytes implored them to resist this unjust ostracism, and offered to defend them against everybody.

The Jesuits have the greater claim to this tardy justice we now seek to do them in the fact that, in spite of the many years that have elapsed since their departure, and although all the men they brought into the bosom of the church by incessant labour have returned to a savage life, the remembrance of the good deeds of these pious missionaries still lives in the hearts of the Indians, and forms at night round the campfires the staple of conversation, so deeply engraved on the minds of these primitive beings is the small amount of kindness shown them.

Don Sylva de Torrés wished to reach the colony of Guetzalli again so soon as possible, and by the most direct route. Unfortunately he was obliged to cross, as the crow flies, a large extent of country through which no road ran. Moreover, owing to his topographical ignorance of the prairie, he was compelled to trust in Don Martial, an excellent guide in every respect, whose sagacity and thorough knowledge of the desert he did not for a moment doubt, but in whom he placed but slight confidence, while unable to explain his motive even to himself.

Still the Tigrero (apparently at least) gave proofs of his entire devotion to the hacendero, leading him by the most beaten tracks, making him avoid difficult passages, and watching with unequalled care and solicitude over the safety of his little band. Each evening at sunset the party encamped on the top of an open hill, whence a large quantity of ground could be surveyed, in order to guard against any surprise. On the evening of the fourth day, after a fatiguing march over an irregular tract, Don Martial reached a hill where he proposed to camp.

The hacendero greeted the offer with greater pleasure, for, being but little accustomed to this mode of travelling, he felt extremely fatigued. After a frugal meal, composed of maize tortillas, and frijoles powdered with the hottest spices, and washed down with pulque, Don Sylva, without even thinking of smoking a cigarette (his custom always after a meal), wrapped himself in his zarapé, laid down with his feet toward the fire, and fell off almost immediately into a profound sleep.

Don Martial and the young girl remained for some time silently opposite each other, their eyes fixed on the hacendero, and uneasily watching the phases of his sleep. At length, when the Tigrero was persuaded that Don Sylva was really asleep, he bent over her, and muttered in her ear in a gentle voice: —

"Pardon, Doña Anita, pardon!"

"For what?" she asked in surprise.

"Because you are suffering through me."

"Egotist!" she said with an enchanting smile, "it is not through myself too, as I love you?"

"Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed. "You restore to my heart that courage which I felt dying out. Alas! How will all this end?"

"Well, I am convinced," she said quickly. "We must be patient. My father believe me, will soon change his opinion about you."

The Tigrero smiled sorrowfully.

"Still," he said, "I cannot carry you about the prairie indefinitely."

"That is true," she remarked despondently. "What is to be done?"

"I do not know. For the last two days we have only been moving round the colony, from which we are scarce three leagues distant, and yet I cannot resolve to enter it."

"Alas!" the girl murmured.

"Ah!" he continued, with a degree of animation in his glance, "Why is this man your father, Doña Anita?"

"Speak not so, my friend," she said hurriedly, laying her little hand on his mouth as if to prevent him saying more. "Why despair? God is good; He will not fail us. We know not what He has in reserve for us: let us place our trust in Him!"

"Still," he replied, shaking his head, "our position is not tenable. It is impossible to go on at haphazard. Your father, in spite of his ignorance of the country, will at length perceive I am deceiving him, and I shall be hopelessly ruined in his opinion. On the other hand, by proceeding to the colony, I place you in the hands once more of the man you are forced to marry. I cannot resolve on doing this odious deed. Oh! I would joyfully give ten years of my life to know how I ought to act."

At this moment, as if Heaven had heard his words, and hastened to reply immediately, the Tigrero, whose eyes were mechanically fixed on the prairie, which at this moment was buried in obscurity, saw a short distance off, in the midst of the tall grass, a luminous point arise in the air twice, tracing in its passage quaint parabolas. At the same moment Don Martial's practised ear heard, or fancied it heard, the suppressed snorting of a horse.

"It is extraordinary," he muttered, as if speaking to himself. "What can it mean? Is it a signal? Still we are alone here. Through the whole of the past day I have not caught sight of a single trail; but that light – "

"What is the matter, my friend?" Doña Anita asked anxiously. "You seem restless. Can any danger menace us? Speak! You know I am brave; and by your side, what can I fear? Hide nothing from me. Something extraordinary is taking place, is it not?"

"Well, yes," he replied, resolutely making up his mind, "something extraordinary is really happening; but calm yourself, I do not believe there is anything for you to fear."

"But what is it? I saw nothing."

"Stay: look there!" he said quickly, and stretched out his arm.

The girl looked attentively, and saw what the Tigrero had noticed a few moments previously – a reddish dot sparkling in the gloom, and describing interlaced lines.

"'Tis evidently a signal," the Tigrero went on. "Somebody is concealed there."

"Do you expect anyone?" she asked him.

"No; and yet, I know not why, but I fancy that signal can only be intended for me."

"Still recollect that we are in the prairie, and probably, without suspecting it, surrounded by bands of Indian hunters. They may be corresponding with each other by means of that light which we have seen twice gleaming before our eyes."

"No, Doña Anita, you are mistaken. We are not, at any rate for the present, surrounded by any Indians: we are quite alone."

"How can you know that, my friend, since you have not left us for a moment to go and look for trails?"

"Doña Anita, my well beloved!" he said in a stern voice, "the prairie is a book on which Heaven's secrets are written in ineffaceable letters, which the man accustomed to desert life can read currently. The wind passing through the branches, the bird flying through the air, the deer or buffalo grazing on the tufted grass, the alligator slothfully wallowing in the mud, are to me certain signs in which I cannot be mistaken. For the last two days we have seen no Indian sign; the buffaloes and other animals we have passed growled calmly and without distrust; the flight of the birds was regular; the alligators almost disappeared in the mud which covered them. All these animals scent the approach of man, and especially of the Indian, for a considerable distance, and so soon as they have done so, disappear at headlong speed, so great is the terror with which the Lord of creation inspires them. I repeat to you, we are alone here, quite alone here, and therefore that signal is intended for me. See, there it is again!"

"It is true; I can see it!"

"I must know what the meaning of it is," he said, seizing his rifle.

"Oh, Don Martial, I implore you, take care! Be prudent. Think of me!" she added in agony.

"Reassure yourself, Doña Anita. I am too old a wood ranger to let myself be deceived by a clumsy trick. I shall return shortly."

And without listening further to the young girl, who tried to retain him by her entreaties and tears, he proceeded to the slope of the hill, which he descended rapidly, though with the utmost prudence. On arriving in the prairie the Tigrero stopped to look around him. The party were encamped about two arrow-shots from the Gila, nearly opposite a large island, which is in reality only a rock, bearing some resemblance to the human form, and which the Apaches call the master of the life of man. In their excursions upon Indian territory the redskins never fail to stop at this island and deposit their offerings, the ceremony consisting in throwing into the water, with dancing, tobacco, hair, and birds feathers. This rock, which offers a most striking appearance from the distance, has two excavations in it more than 1200 feet in length, and forty wide, the roof being of an arched form.

The fact which had aroused the Tigrero's curiosity, and caused him to undertake the enterprise of discovery in the meaning of the signal, was that it came from the island; and this he could not at all account for, being aware that the Indians felt for the rock a veneration mingled with a superstitious terror so great, that no Indian warrior however brave he might be, would have dared to spend the night there. It was the knowledge of this peculiarity which urged him to examine into the mystery.

Tall and tufted grass grew profusely down to the river's edge. Concealed by the thickly-growing mangroves and shrubs, intertwined in inextricable confusion, the Tigrero glided cautiously down to the bank. So soon as he reached it he let himself hang from a branch, and entered the water so quietly that his immersion produced no sound.

Holding his rifle over his head to keep it out of the wet, the Tigrero then swam with one hand in the direction of the island. The distance was short: the Tigrero was a vigorous swimmer, and he soon reached the spot where he wished to land. So soon as he was on the island he crawled through the shrubs, listening to the slightest sounds, and trying to pierce the darkness. He saw nothing, heard nothing; then he rose, and walked toward one of the grottos, at the entrance of which he could see a fire blazing from the spot where he stood: near it was seated a man, smoking as quietly as if he had been seated before a pulquería at Guaymas.

Don Martial, after attentively regarding this man, had difficulty in repressing a shout of joy, and walked toward him without further attempt at concealment. He had recognised his confidant, Cucharés, the lepero. At the sound of his footfall Cucharés turned his head.

"You have come at last!" he exclaimed. "For more than an hour I have been racking my brain in inventing fresh signs, to which you would not deign a reply."

"Ah, my dear fellow," the Tigrero joyfully replied, "could I have suspected it was you I should have been with you long ago; but I so little expected you – "

"You are quite right, and in such a country as this it is better to be prudent than not sufficiently so."

"Ah, ah! There is something new?" the Tigrero said, as he sat down to the fire to dry his clothes.

"Caspita! If there was not, should I be here?"

"True: you are a good comrade, and I thank you for coming. You know that I have a faithful memory."

"I know it."

"But come, what have you to tell me? I am anxious to hear all the news. But, before beginning, one question."

"Well?"

"Is the news good?"

"Excellent; you shall judge."

"Caray! As it is so, take this ring, which I was not to have given till our little affair was settled. But do not be frightened: when we balance our account I shall find something to please you."

The lepero's eye glistened with joy and avarice; he seized the ring, and sent it to join company with the one he received a few days previously.

"Thanks!" he said. "Heaven keep me! There is a pleasure in dealing with you. You do not huckster, at any rate."

"Now for the news."

"Here it is, short and good. El señor conde, rendered desperate by the disappearance of his betrothed, whom he supposes to have been carried off by the Apaches, has quitted the hacienda at the head of his company, and is now crossing the desert in every direction in pursuit of the Black Bear."

"By all the saints! That is the best news you could bring me. And what do you intend doing?"

"What! Did we not agree that el conde– "

"Of course," the Tigrero quickly interrupted him, "but to do that you must find him, and that, I fancy, is not so easy now."

"On the contrary."

"How so?"

"Why, señor Don Martial, do you wish to insult me by taking me for a pavo (goose)?"

"By no means, gossip: still – "

"Still you believe it. Well, you are mistaken, caballero, and I am not sorry to tell you so. During the very few hours which I spent at the hacienda I made inquiries, and, as I announced myself the bearer of a most important mission for el señor conde, no one made any bones about answering me. It seems that the Apaches, instead of pushing on, were so thoroughly beaten by the French (for whom, by the way, they feel an enormous respect), that they are returning on the desert del Norte, in order to regain their villages. The conde is pursuing them, is he not?"

"You told me so."

"Well, in all probability he will not dare to enter the desert."

"Naturally," the Tigrero said with a shudder, in spite of his tried courage.

"Well, then, he can only stop at one spot."

"At the Casa Grande!" Don Martial exclaimed quickly.

"Quite right! I am certain of finding him there."

"Body of me! Go there, then."

"I shall set out immediately after your departure."

The Tigrero looked at him in surprise.

"You're a fine fellow, Cucharés, on my soul!" he said presently. "I am delighted to find that I made no mistake about you."

"What would you?" the scamp answered modestly while winking his little grey eye. "The relations into which I entered with you are so agreeable to me, that I can refuse you nothing."

The two men began laughing at this sally, which might have been in better taste.

"Now that all is settled between us," Don Martial went on, "let us part."

"How did you come here?"

"Can't you see? By swimming: and you?"

"On my horse. I would offer to land you again, but we are going in opposite directions."

"For the present, yes."

"Do you intend to cross over there soon, then?"

"Probably," he said with an equivocal smile.

"In that case we shall soon meet again."

"I hope so."

"Stay, Don Martial. Now that your clothes are dry, I should not like you to wet them again. Let us go and see if there be not a canoe about: you know the Indians leave them everywhere."

The Tigrero entered the grotto, and found there a canoe, with its paddles carefully balanced against the sides: he unscrupulously carried it out on his shoulders.

"By the way," he said, "why the deuce did you give me the meeting here?"

"Not to be disturbed. Would you have liked anyone to overhear our conversation?"

"I allow that. Good-by, then."

"Good-by."

The men separated – Cucharés to commence a long journey, and Don Martial to return to his camping ground. But they were mistaken in supposing that no one had overheard their conversation. They had scarce quitted the island in different directions ere, from a thicket of dahlias and floripondins growing at the entrance of the grotto, a hideous head was thrust out cautiously, and looked around; then, at the end of a moment, the bushes were further parted, and an Apache Indian, painted and armed for war appeared. It was the Black Bear.

"Wah!" he muttered with a menacing gesture, "the palefaces are dogs. The Apache warriors will follow their trail."

Then, after keeping his eyes fixed for a few instants on the star-spangled sky, he entered the grotto.

In the meanwhile the Tigrero had regained the encampment. Doña Anita, rendered restless by so long an absence, was awaiting him with the most lively anxiety.

"Well?" she asked, running up as soon as she saw him.

"Good news?" he answered.

"Oh, I was so frightened!"

"I thank you. It was as I expected. The signal was intended for me."

"Then?"

"I found a friend, who gave me the means to quit the false position in which we are."

"In what way?"

"Do not trouble yourself about anything, I repeat, but leave me to act."

The girl bowed submissively, and, in spite of the curiosity that devoured her, retired without any further questioning into the jacal of branches prepared for her. Don Martial, instead of sleeping, sat down on the ground, folded arms on his chest, leaned against a tree, and remained thus motionless till daybreak, plunged in deep and melancholy thought. At sunrise the Tigrero shook off the effects of his night watch and aroused his comrades. Ten minutes after the little party was en route.

"Oh, oh!" the hacendero said, "You are very early this morning."

"Did you not notice that we did not even breakfast before starting, as we usually do?"

"Of course I did."

"Do you know the reason? Because we shall breakfast at Guetzalli, where we shall arrive in two hours at the latest."

"Ah, caramba!" the hacendero exclaimed, "you delight me with that news."

"I thought I should."

Doña Anita, on hearing him speak thus, had looked sorrowfully at Don Martial; but seeing his face so calm, his smile so frank, she felt suddenly reassured, and suspected that his silence of the previous night intended some pleasant surprise for her.

As Don Martial had stated, two hours later they reached the colony. So soon as they were perceived by the sentinels the isthmus drawbridge was lowered, and they entered the hacienda, where they were received with all possible politeness. Doña Anita, with her eyes constantly fixed on the Tigrero, blushed and turned pale, understanding nothing of his perfect calmness. They dismounted in the second courtyard before the gate of honour.

"Where is the Count de Lhorailles?" asked the hacendero, surprised that his future son-in-law had not merely neglected to come to meet him, but was not there to receive him.

"My master will feel highly annoyed, when he hears of your arrival, at not having been present to welcome you," replied the steward, breaking out into profuse apologies.

"Is he absent?"

"Yes, señor."

"But he will soon return?"

"I hardly think so. The captain started in pursuit of the savages at the head of his entire company."

This news was a thunderbolt for Don Sylva; but the Tigrero and Doña Anita exchanged a glance of delight.