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

CHAPTER X
BEFORE THE ATTACK

At the first cry of the maukawis – that is to say, at sunrise – the adventurers awoke.

The night had been calm. They had slept with nothing to disturb their rest. Iced, however, by the abundant dew which had filtered through their blankets during their sleep, they hurriedly rose to restore the circulation of their blood and warm their stiffened limbs.

At the first movement Don Martial made a knife fell down on the ground. The Mexican picked it up, and uttered a cry of amazement and almost of terror as he showed it to his companions. The arm so unexpectedly found was a scalping knife, whose blade was still stained with large bloody spots.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, brandishing the knife angrily.

Eagle-head seized it, and examined it carefully.

"Wah!" he said in surprise, "the Black Bear has been with us during our sleep."

The hunters could not refrain from a movement of alarm.

"It is impossible," Belhumeur observed.

The Indian shook his head as he displayed the weapon.

"This," he continued, "is the Apache chief's scalping knife; the totem of the tribe is engraved on the hilt."

"'Tis true."

"The Black Bear is a renowned chief. His heart is large enough to contain a world. Obliged to fulfil the engagements he has made, he wished to prove to his enemy that he was master of his life, and that he would take it whenever he thought proper. That is the meaning of this knife placed on the chest of the Yori during his sleep."

The adventurers were confounded by so much boldness. They shuddered at the thought that they had been at the mercy of the chief, who disdained to kill them, and contented himself with defying them. The Mexican especially felt a shudder in spite of his courage. The Canadian was the first to recover his coolness.

"Canario!" he exclaimed, "This Apache dog did right to warn us. Now we will be on our guard."

"Hum!" Cucharés said, passing his hands through his thick and matted hair, "I have not the least desire to be scalped."

"Bah!" Belhumeur said, "People sometimes recover."

"That is possible; but I don't care to make the attempt."

"And now that day has quite broken," Louis observed, "I fancy the time has arrived for me to go to the hacienda. What do you say, gentlemen?"

"We have not a moment to lose, if we wish to foil the enemy's plans," said Don Martial in support of his suggestion.

"The more so as we have to take certain measures which it would be as well to determine as soon as possible," Belhumeur remarked.

The Indian and the lepero contented themselves with giving their assent through a nod.

"Now let us arrange a meeting place," Louis went on to say. "You can not wait for me here, as the Indians know where to find you."

"Yes," Belhumeur replied thoughtfully, "but I do not know the country where we now are, and I should be quite troubled to find a fitting spot."

"I know one," Eagle-head said. "I will lead you to it: our pale brother will join us again there."

"Very good, but for that purpose I must know the spot."

"My brother need not trouble himself about that. When he leaves the great cabin I shall be near him."

"Very good – all right. Good-by till we meet again."

Louis saddled his horse and started off at a gallop in the direction of the hacienda, which was about three musket shots from the camping place.

The Count de Lhorailles was walking about anxiously in the hall of the main body of the building. In spite of himself his meeting with the Mexican occupied his mind. He wished to have a frank explanation with Doña Anita in her father's presence, which should dissipate his doubts, or at least give him the key of the mystery that surrounded the affair.

Another circumstance also dulled his humour, and redoubled his alarms. At daybreak Diégo Léon, his lieutenant, told him that the Indian guide brought home with them the previous day had disappeared during the night, and left no trace. The position was becoming serious. The Mexican moon was approaching. That guide was evidently an Indian spy, ordered to inquire into the strength of the hacienda, and the means of surprising it. The Apaches and Comanches could not be far off; perhaps they were already on the watch in the tall prairie grass, awaiting the favourable moment to rush on their implacable foes.

The count did not conceal from himself that if his position was critical, he was the main cause of it. Invested by the government with an important command, especially charged with the protection of the frontier against Indian invasions, he had not yet made a move, and had in no way tried to fulfil the commission he had not merely accepted but solicited. The Mexican moon commenced in a month; before that period he must strike a decisive blow, which would inspire the Indians with a wholesome terror, prevent them combining and thus foil their plans.

The count had been reflecting for a long time, forgetting in his anxiety the guests he had brought to his house, after whom he had not yet asked, when his old lieutenant appeared before him.

"What do you want, Martin?" he asked.

"Excuse me for disturbing you, captain. Diégo Léon, who is on guard at the isthmus battery with eight men, has just sent me to tell you that a man wishes to see you on a serious matter."

"What sort of a man is he?"

"A white man, well dressed, and mounted on an excellent horse."

"Hem! Did he said nothing further?"

"Pardon me, he added this: 'You will say to the man who commands you that I am one of the men he met at the Rancho of San José.'"

The count's face grew suddenly serene.

"Let him come in," he said: "'tis a friend."

The lieutenant withdrew. So soon as he was alone the count recommenced his walk.

"What can this man want of me?" he muttered. "When I asked his friend and himself to accompany me here they both refused. What reason can have caused such a sudden change in their plans? Bah! What is the use of addling one's brains?" he added, on hearing a horse's footfall re-echoing in the inner patio. "I shall soon know."

Almost immediately Don Louis appeared, led by the lieutenant, who, on a sign from the count, at once disappeared.

"What happy accident," the count said graciously, "procures me the honour of a visit I was so far from expecting?"

Don Louis politely returned the salutation, and replied,

"It is no happy accident that brings me. God grant that I may not be the harbinger of misfortune!"

These words made the count frown.

"What do you mean, señor?" he asked in anxiety. "I do not understand you."

"You will soon do so. But speak French, if you have no objection; we shall understand each other more easily," he said, giving up the Spanish which he had hitherto employed.

"What!" the count exclaimed in surprise, "You speak French?"

"Yes," Louis said, "for I have the honour of being your fellow countryman, although," he added with a suppressed sigh, "I have quitted our country for more than ten years. It is always a great pleasure to me to be able to speak my own language."

The expression of the count's face completely changed on hearing these words.

"Oh!" he continued, "permit me to press your hand, sir. Two Frenchmen who meet in this distant land are brothers; let us momentarily forget the spot where we are, and talk about France – that dear country from which we are so remote and which we love so much."

"Alas, sir!" Louis replied, with suppressed emotion, "I should be happy to forget for a few minutes what surrounds us, to summon up the recollections of our common country. Unfortunately the moment is a grave one; great dangers threaten you, and the time we would thus lose might produce a fearful catastrophe."

"You startle me, sir. What is happening? What have you so terrible to announce to me?"

"Did I not tell you that I was a messenger of evil tidings?"

"No matter. When told by you they will be welcome. In the situation in which I am placed in this desert, must I not ever expect misfortune?"

"I hope to be able to help you in warding off the danger that now hangs over you."

"Thanks for your fraternal conduct. Now speak, I am listening to you. Whatever you may tell me, I shall have the courage to hear it."

Don Louis, without revealing to the count his meeting with the Tigrero, as had been agreed on, told him how he had overheard a conversation between his guide and several Apache warriors ambushed in the vicinity of the hacienda, and the plan they had formed to surprise the colony.

"And now, sir," he added, "it is for you to judge of the gravity of this news, and the arrangements you will have to make, in order to foil the plans of the Indians."

"I thank you, sir. When my lieutenant told me, a few moments prior to your arrival, of the disappearance of the guide, I immediately saw that I had to do with a spy. What you now report to me converts my suspicions into certainty. As you say, there is not a moment to lose, and I will at once think over the necessary arrangements."

He walked to a table and struck a bell sharply. A peon entered.

"The first lieutenant," he said. In a few minutes the latter arrived.

"Lieutenant," the count said to him, "take twenty men with you, and scour the country for three leagues round. I have just learned that Indians are concealed near here."

The old soldier bowed in reply, and prepared to obey.

"An instant," Louis exclaimed, signing him to stop, "one word more."

"Eh?" Martin Leroux said, turning round in amazement, "You are talking French now."

"As you hear," Louis answered with a smile.

"You wished to make a remark," the count asked.

"I have lived in America a very long time. My home has been the desert, and I know the Indians, whom I have learned to rival in craft. If you allow me. I will give you some advice, which, I fancy, may be useful to you under present circumstances."

"By Jove!" the count exclaimed; "pray speak, my dear countryman. Your advice will be very advantageous to us, I feel assured."

At this moment Don Sylva entered the room.

"Ah!" the count continued, "come hither, my friend. We have great need of you. Your knowledge of Indian habits will prove most useful to us."

"What has happened?" the hacendero asked as he bowed courteously to all present.

"We are threatened with an attack from the Apaches."

"Oh, oh! That is serious, my friend. What do you propose doing?"

"I do not know yet. I had given Don Martin orders to scour the neighbourhood; but this gentleman appears to be of a different opinion."

"The caballero is right," the Mexican answered, bowing to Don Louis; "but, in the first place, are you certain about this attack?"

"This gentleman came expressly to warn me."

"Then there can be no further doubt. We must make the necessary arrangements as quickly as possible. What is the caballero's opinion?"

"He was about to give it at the moment you came in."

"Then pray do not let me disturb your conference. Speak, sir."

Don Louis bowed and took the word.

"Caballero!" he began, turning to Don Sylva, "What I am about to say is addressed principally to the French señores, who, accustomed to European warfare and in the white mode of fighting, are, I am convinced, ignorant of Indian tactics."

"'Tis true," the count observed.

"Bah!" Leroux said, twirling his long moustaches with great self-sufficiency, "We will learn them."

"Take care you do not do so at your own expense," Don Louis continued. "Indian war is entirely one of stratagems and ambushes. The enemy who attacks you never forms in line; he remains constantly concealed, employing all means to conquer, but principally treachery. Five hundred Apache warriors, commanded by an intrepid chief, would defeat in the prairie your best soldiers, whom they would decimate, while not giving a chance for retaliation."

"Oh, oh!" the count muttered, "Is that their only way of fighting?"

"The only one," the hacendero said in confirmation.

"Hum!" Leroux remarked, "I fancy it is very like the war in Africa."

"Not so much as you suppose. The Arabs let themselves be seen, while the Apaches, I repeat to you, only show themselves in the utmost extremity."

"Then my plan of pushing forward a reconnoissance – "

"Is impracticable for two reasons: either your horsemen, though surrounded by enemies, will not discover one of them, or they will be attracted into an ambush, where, in spite of prodigies of valour, they will perish to the last man."

"All that this gentleman says is most perfectly true: it is easy to see that he has a great experience of Indian warfare, and has often measured himself with Indios bravos."

"That experience cost my happiness. All those I loved were massacred by these ferocious enemies," Don Louis replied sorrowfully. "Fear the same fate if you do not display the greatest prudence. I know how repugnant it is to the chivalrous character of our nation to follow such a course; but in my opinion it is the only one that offers any chances of salvation."

"We have here several women, children, and your daughter before all, Don Sylva. We must absolutely shelter her from all danger; if possible, spare her the slightest alarm. I, therefore, accept this gentleman's views, and am determined to act with the greatest circumspection."

"I thank you for my daughter and myself."

"And now, sir, as we are already indebted to you for such good advice, complete your task. In my place, what would you do?"

"My advice is as follows," Louis answered seriously. "The Apaches will attack you for certain reasons I know, and which it is unnecessary to tell you. They make a point of honour of the success of that attack. Hence intrench yourselves here as well as you can. You have a considerable garrison composed of tried men; consequently, nearly all the chances are in your favour."

"I have one hundred and seventy resolute Frenchmen, who have all been soldiers."

"Behind good walls, and well armed, they are more than you want."

"Without counting forty peons, accustomed to pursuing the Indians, and whom I brought with me," Don Sylva remarked.

"Are those men here at this moment?" Louis asked sharply.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh! That simplifies the question materially. If you will believe me, the Indians have now everything to fear instead of you."

"Explain."

"It is evident that you will be attacked from the river. Perhaps, in order to divide your forces, the Indians will make a feigned attack from the side of the isthmus; but that point is too strongly defended for them to attempt to carry it. I repeat, then, all the enemy's efforts will be directed on the side of the river."

"I would call your attention to the fact, sir," the lieutenant said, "that at this moment the river is rendered unnavigable by thousands of trees torn from the mountains by the storms, and which it bears along with it."

"I know not whether the river is navigable or not," Don Louis replied firmly, "but of one thing I am certain, that the Apaches will attack you on that side."

"In any case, and not to be taken by surprise, two of the guns will be moved from the isthmus battery, leaving four there, which are more than sufficient, and laid so as to enfilade the river, care be taken to mask them. You will also, Leroux, mount a culverin on the platform of the mirador, whence we shall command the course of the Gila. Go and have these orders executed at once."

The old soldier went out without any reply, in order to carry out the commands of his chief.

"You see, gentlemen," the count then said, "that I hasten to profit by the counsels you are good enough to give me. I recognise my utter inexperience of this Indian warfare, and I repeat that I am happy at being so well supported."

"This gentleman has foreseen everything," the hacendero said; "like him, I believe that the house is most exposed to the river front."

"A last word," Don Louis continued.

"Speak, speak, sir."

"Did you not say, caballero, that you brought with you forty peons, accustomed to Indian warfare, and that they were still here?"

"Yes, I said so, and it is perfectly true."

"Very good. I believe – and be good enough to take it as a simple observation, caballero – I say I believe that it would be a masterstroke, which would insure you the victory, to place your enemies between two fires."

"Indeed it would," the count exclaimed; "but how to do it? You yourself said, only a moment ago, that it would be the height of imprudence to send out a scouting party."

"I said, and I repeat it, the grass and woods are at this moment filled with eyes fixed on the hacienda, who will let no one pass out unnoticed."

"Well?"

"Did I not tell you that this war was one of stratagems and ambushes?"

"You did; but I do not understand, I confess, what you are driving at."

"It is however, excessively simple; you will understand me in a few words."

"I much desire it."

"Señor caballero," Don Louis went on, turning to Don Sylva, "do you intend to remain here?"

"Yes; for certain private reasons I must remain some time here."

"I have no intention, be assured, señor, to interfere in your private affairs. So you remain here?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Have you among your peons a devoted man on whom you can count as on yourself?"

"Cascaras! I should think so. I have Blas Vasquez."

"Would you be good enough to tell me who this Blas is, as I have not the honour of his acquaintance?"

"He is my capataz, and I can trust to him as to myself in matters of danger."

"Excellent! All is going on famously, then."

"I really cannot make you out," the count said.

"You shall see," said Louis.

"I have been trying to do so for the last half hour."

"Your capataz, to whom you will give your instructions, will put himself at the head of his peons within an hour, and ostensibly take the road to Guaymas; but, as soon as he has gone two or three leagues to a point we shall settle on, he will halt. The rest will be the business of myself and friends."

"Oh! I understand your plan now. The peons hidden by you will attack the Indians in the rear so soon as the action has commenced between and them us."

"That is it."

"But the Apaches? Do you believe they will allow a troop of white men to retire without harassing them?"

"The Indians are too shrewd to oppose them. What good would it do to attack a body of men who have no baggage? The fight would not profit them, but cause their position to be discovered. No, no, be easy, caballero, they will not stir: they have too great an interest in remaining invisible."

"And what do you intend to do?"

"The Indians certainly saw me come in this direction; they know I am here. If I went out with them it would betray all. I shall go away alone as I came, and that immediately."

"The plan is so simple and well arranged that it must succeed. Receive our thanks, sir, and be kind enough to tell us your name, that we may know the man to whom we are indebted for so great a service."

"To what end, sir?"

"I join my entreaties, caballero, to those of my friend, Don Gaëtano, in order to induce you to reveal the name of a man whose memory will be eternally engraved on our hearts."

Don Louis hesitated, though unable to account to himself for the reason that made him do so. He felt a repugnance to give up his incognito as respected the count. The two men, however, pressed him so politely, that having no serious reason to offer for the maintenance of his incognito, he allowed himself to be vanquished by their entreaties, and consented to give his name.

"Caballeros," he at length said, "I am the Count Louis Edward Maxime de Prébois Crancé."

"We are friends, I trust," De Lhorailles said, holding out his hand to him.

"What I have done is a proof of it, I think, sir," the other replied with a bow, but not taking the offered hand.

"I thank you," the count went on, without appearing to notice Louis' repugnance. "Do you intend to leave us soon?"

"I must leave you to the urgent business you have on hand. If you will allow me, I will take my leave at once."

"Not breakfasting, at least?"

"You will excuse me, but time presses. I have friends I have now left for some hours, and who must be alarmed by my lengthened absence."

"As they know you are at my house, that is impossible, sir," the count said, somewhat piqued.

"They do not know that I arrived here without accident."

"That is different; then I will not delay you. Once again I thank you, sir."

"I have acted in accordance with my conscience; you owe me no thanks."

The three men quitted the hall, and proceeded towards the isthmus battery, talking of indifferent matters. About half way they met Don Blas, the capataz. Don Sylva made him a sign to join them, and when he was near them explained to him in two words the events that were preparing, and the part he would have to play.

"Voto a Brios!" the capataz exclaimed joyously. "I thank you, Don Sylva, for this good news. We shall have a row at last, then, with those Apache dogs! Caray! They'll see some fun, I swear."

"I trust entirely to you, Blas."

"But at what place must I await this caballero?"

"That is true: we have not fixed the place of meeting."

"About three leagues from here, on the Guaymas road, at a place where the road makes a bend, there is an isolated hill called, I think, El Pan de Azucar: you can ambush there without any fear of discovery. I will join you at this spot with my friends."

"That is agreed. At about what hour?"

"I cannot say for certain: that must depend on circumstances."

A few minutes later Don Louis was riding back to the prairie, while the Count de Lhorailles and the two Mexicans, made preparations for an active defence of the colony.

"It is strange," Don Louis muttered to himself as he galloped on, "that this man who is my countryman, and for whom I shall risk my life ere long, inspires me with no sympathy."

Suddenly his horse shied. Roughly startled from his reverie, the Frenchman looked up.

Eagle-head stood before him.