Gustave Aimard
The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart

CHAPTER XVII.
EAGLE HEAD

Eagle Head was a chief as prudent as he was determined; he knew he had everything to fear from the Americans, if he did not succeed in completely concealing his trail.

Hence, after the surprise he had effected against the new establishment of the whites, upon the banks of the great Canadian river, he neglected nothing to secure his troop from the terrible reprisals which threatened them.

It is scarcely possible to form an idea of the talent displayed by the Indians when the object is to conceal their trail.

Twenty times do they repass the same place, entangling, as it were, the traces of their passage in each other, in such a manner that they end by becoming inextricable; neglecting no accident of the ground, marching in each other's footsteps to conceal their number, following for whole days the course of rivulets, frequently with the water up to their waist, carrying their precautions and patience so far as ever to efface with their hands, and, so to speak, step by step the vestiges which might denounce them to the keen, interested eyes of their enemies.

The tribe of the Serpent, to which the warriors commanded by Eagle Head belonged, had entered the prairies nearly five hundred warriors strong, in order to hunt the buffalo, and give battle to the Pawnees and Sioux, with whom they were continually at war.

It was Eagle Head's object, as soon as his campaign should be over, to join his brothers immediately, in order to place in safety the booty gained by the capture of the village, and to take part in a grand expedition which his tribe was preparing against the white trappers and half-breeds spread over the prairies, whom the Indians, with reason, considered as implacable enemies.

Notwithstanding the extreme precaution displayed by the chief, the detachment had marched rapidly.

On the evening of the sixth day that had passed away since the destruction of the fort, the Comanches halted on the banks of a little river without a name, as is the case sometimes in these wilds, and prepared to encamp for the night.

Nothing is more simple than the encamping of Indians upon the warpath.

The horses are hobbled, that they may not stray away; if the savages do not fear a surprise, they kindle a fire; if the contrary, everyone manages to get a little food and rest as well as he can.

Since their departure from the fort, no indication had given the Comanches reason to think they were pursued or watched, and their scouts had discovered no suspicious track. They were at but a short distance from the camp of their tribe, – their security was complete.

Eagle Head ordered a fire to be lit, and himself posted sentinels to watch over the safety of all.

When he had taken these prudent measures, the chief placed his back against an ebony tree, took his calumet, and ordered the old man and the Spanish woman to be brought before him.

When they appeared, Eagle Head saluted the old man cordially, and offered him his calumet, a mark of kindness which the old man accepted, carefully preparing himself for the questions which the Indian was, doubtless, about to put to him.

As he expected, after a silence of a few moments, the latter spoke.

"Does my brother find himself comfortable with the redskins?" asked he.

"I should be wrong to complain, chief," the Spaniard replied; "since I have been with you I have been treated very kindly."

"My brother is a friend," the Comanche said, emphatically.

The old man bowed.

"We are at length in our own hunting grounds," the chief continued; "my brother, the White Head, is fatigued with a long life; he is better at the counsel fire than on horseback, hunting the elk or the buffalo – what does my brother wish?"

"Chief," the Spaniard replied, "your words are true; there was a time when, like every other child of the prairies, I passed whole days in hunting upon a fiery unbroken mustang; my strength has disappeared, my members have lost their elasticity, and my eye its infallibility; I am worth nothing now in an expedition, however short it may be."

"Good!" the Indian replied, imperturbably, blowing clouds of smoke from his mouth and nostrils; "let my brother tell his friend what he wishes, and it shall be done."

"I thank you, chief, and I will profit by your kindness; I should be happy if you would consent to furnish me with means of gaining, without being disturbed, some establishment of men of my own colour, where I might pass in peace the few days I have yet to live."

"Eh! why should I not do it? Nothing is more easy; as soon as we have rejoined the tribe, since my brother is not willing to dwell with us, his desires shall be satisfied."

There was a moment of silence. The old man, believing the conversation terminated, prepared to retire; with a gesture, the chief ordered him to remain.

After a few instants, the Indian shook the ashes out of his pipe, passed the shank of it through his belt, and fixing upon the Spaniard a glance marked by a strange expression, he said, in a sad voice, —

"My brother is happy, although he has seen many winters, he does not walk alone in the path of life."

"What does the chief mean?" the old man asked; "I do not understand."

"My brother has a family," the Comanche replied.

"Alas! my brother is deceived; I am alone in this world."

"What does my brother say? Has he not his mate?" A sad smile passed over the pale lips of the old man.

"No," he said, after a moment's pause; "I have no mate."

"What is that woman to him, then?" said the chief, with feigned surprise, and pointing to the Spanish woman, who stood pensive and silent by the side of the old man.

"That woman is my mistress."

"Wah! Can it be that my brother is a slave?" said the Comanche, with an ill-omened smile.

"No," the old man replied haughtily! "I am not the slave of that woman, I am her devoted servant."

"Wah!" said the chief, shaking his head, and reflecting deeply upon this reply.

But the words of the Spaniard were unintelligible to the Indian; the distinction was too subtle for him to seize it. At the end of two or three minutes he shook his head, and gave up the endeavour to solve the, to him, incomprehensible problem.

"Good!" he said, darting an ironical glance through his half-closed eyelids; "the woman shall go with my brother."

"That is what I always intended," the Spaniard replied.

The aged woman, who to this moment had preserved a prudent silence, judged it was now time to take part in the conversation.

"I am thankful to the chief," she said; "but since he is good enough to take interest in our welfare, will he permit me to ask him a favour?"

"Let my mother speak; my ears are open."

"I have a son who is a great white hunter; he must at this moment be in the prairie; perhaps, if my brother would consent to keep us a few days longer with him, it would be possible to meet with him; under his protection we should have nothing to fear."

At these imprudent words the Spaniard made a gesture of terror.

"Señorita!" he said sharply in his native language, "take care lest – "

"Silence!" the Indian interrupted in an angry tone; "why does my white brother speak before me in an unknown tongue? Does he fear I should understand his words?"

"Oh, chief!" said the Spaniard, in a tone of denial.

"Let my brother, then, allow my palefaced mother to speak; she is speaking to a chief."

The old man was silent, but a sad presentiment weighed upon his heart.

The Comanche chief knew perfectly well to whom he was speaking; he was playing with the two Spaniards, as a cat does with a mouse; but, allowing none of his impressions to appear, he turned towards the woman, and bowing with that instinctive courtesy which distinguishes the Indians, said in a mild voice, and with a sympathetic smile, —

"Oh! oh! the son of my mother is a great hunter, is he? So much the better."

The heart of the poor woman dilated with joy.

"Yes," she said, with emotion, "he is one of the bravest trappers on the Western prairies."

"Wah!" said the chief, in a still more amiable manner, "this renowned warrior must have a name respected through the prairies?"

The Spaniard suffered a martyrdom; held in awe by the eye of the Comanche, he did not know how to warn his mistress not to pronounce the name of her son.

"His name is well known," said the woman.

"Oh!" the old man cried eagerly, "all women are thus; with them all their sons are heroes: this one, although an excellent young man, is no better than others; certes, his name has never reached my brother."

"How does my brother know that?" said the Indian, with a sardonic smile.

"I suppose so," the old man replied; "or, at least, if by chance my brother has heard it pronounced, it must long ago have escaped his memory, and does not merit being recalled to it. If my brother will permit us, we will retire; the day has been fatiguing; the hour of repose is come."

"In an instant," said the Comanche quietly; and turning to the woman, "What is the name of the warrior of the palefaces?" he asked, in a peremptory tone.

But the old lady, placed upon her guard by the intervention of her servant, with whose prudence and devotion she was well acquainted, made no answer, conscious that she had committed a fault, and not knowing how to remedy it.

"Does not my mother hear me?" said the chief.

"Of what use would it be to repeat to you a name which, according to all probability, is unknown to you, and which cannot interest you? If my brother will permit me, I will retire."

"No; not before my mother has told me the name of her son, the great warrior," said the Comanche, knitting his brow and stamping his foot with ill-restrained anger.

The old Spaniard saw an end must be put to this; his determination was formed in a second.

"My brother is a great chief," he said, "although his hair is still brown, his wisdom is immense. I am his friend, and am sure he would not abuse the chance that has delivered into his hands the mother of his enemy: the name of that woman's son is Loyal Heart."

"Wah!" said Eagle Head, with a sinister smile, "I knew that well enough: why have the palefaces two hearts and two tongues? and why do they always seek to deceive the redskins?"

"We have not sought to deceive you, chief."

"I say you have. Since you have been with us, you have been treated as children of the tribe. I have saved your life!"

"That is true."

"Very well," he resumed, with an ironical smile, "I will prove to you that Indians do not forget, and that they know how to render good for evil. These wounds that you see me bear, who inflicted them? Loyal Heart! We are enemies; his mother is in my power; I could at once tie her to the stake of torture; it is my right to do so."

The two Spaniards hung their heads.

"The law of the prairies is an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Listen to me well, Old Oak. In remembrance of our ancient friendship, I grant you a respite. Tomorrow at sunrise, you shall set out in search of Loyal Heart; if, within four days, he does not come to deliver himself up into my hands, his mother shall perish; my young men shall burn her alive at the stake of blood, and my brothers shall make war whistles of her bones. Begone! I have spoken!"

The old man eagerly implored mercy. He threw himself on his knees before the chief; but the vindictive Indian spurned him with his foot, and turned away.

"Oh! madam," the old man murmured, in despair, "you are lost!"

"But be sure, Eusebio," the mother replied, choking with tears, "be sure not to bring back my son! Of what consequence is my death! Alas! has not my life already been long enough?"

The old servant cast a glance of admiration at his mistress.

"Ever the same!" he said affectionately.

"Does not the life of a mother belong to her child?" she said, with a cry which seemed to come from her very heart.

The old people sank, overwhelmed with grief, at the foot of a tree, and passed the night in praying to God.

Eagle Head did not appear to have an idea of this despair.

CHAPTER XVIII.
NÔ EUSEBIO

The precautions taken by Eagle Head to conceal his march were good as regarded the whites, whose senses, less kept upon the watch than those of partisans and hunters, and little acquainted with Indian stratagems, are almost incapable of directing their course in these vast solitudes without a compass; but for men like Loyal Heart and Belhumeur they were, in every respect, insufficient.

The two bold partisans did not lose the track for an instant.

Accustomed to the zig-zags and devices of the Indian warriors, they did not allow themselves to be deceived by the sudden turns, the counter marches, the false halts, in a word, by any of the obstacles which the Comanches had planted so freely on their route.

And then, there was one thing of which the Indians had not dreamed, and which revealed as clearly the direction of their march as if they had taken the pains to mark it with stakes.

We have said that the hunters had, close to the ruins of a cabin, found a bloodhound fastened to a tree, and that this bloodhound, when set free, after bestowing a few caresses on Belhumeur, had set off; his nose to the wind, to rejoin his master, who was no other than the old Spaniard – in fact, he did rejoin him.

The traces of the bloodhound, which the Indians never dreamed of effacing, for the very simple reason that they did not observe that he was with them, were to be seen all along, and for hunters so skilful as Loyal Heart and Belhumeur, this was an Ariadne's thread which nothing could break.

The hunters therefore rode tranquilly on with their guns across the saddle and accompanied by their rastreros, in the track of the Comanches, who were far from suspecting that they had such a rearguard.

Every evening Loyal Heart stopped at the precise place where Eagle Head had, on the previous day, established his camp, for such was the diligence of the two men that the Indians only preceded them by a few leagues; the trappers could easily have passed them, if it had been their wish to do so; but, for certain reasons, Loyal Heart confined himself to following them for some time longer.

After having passed the night in a quiet glade, on the banks of a clear rivulet, whose soft murmur had lulled them to sleep, the hunters were preparing to resume their journey, their horses were saddled, they were eating a slice of elk, standing, like people in a hurry to depart, when Loyal Heart, who, during the whole morning had not spoken a word, turned towards his companion, and said:

"Let us sit down a minute, there is no occasion to hurry, since Eagle Head has rejoined his tribe."

"Be it so," replied Belhumeur, laying himself down upon the grass. "We can talk a bit."

"I cannot think how it was I did not imagine these cursed Comanches had a war detachment in the neighbourhood! It is impossible for us two to think of taking a camp in which there are five hundred warriors."

"That's true," said Belhumeur, philosophically; "they are a great many, and yet, you know, my dear friend, that if your heart bids you, we can but try; who knows what may happen?"

"Thanks!" said Loyal Heart, smiling; "but I think it useless."

"As you like."

"Stratagem alone can assist us."

"Let us try stratagem, then; I am at your orders."

"We have some traps near here, I believe?"

"Pardieu!" said the Canadian, "within half a mile, at most, there is a large pond of beavers."

"That's true; for the last few days, Belhumeur, I scarcely know what I am thinking about; this captivity of my mother makes me mad; I must deliver her, cost what it may."

"That is my opinion, Loyal Heart, and I will aid you in it with all my soul."

"Tomorrow morning, at daybreak, you will repair to Black Elk, and beg him, in my name, to collect as many white hunters and trappers as he can."

"Very well."

"In the meantime I will go to the camp of the Comanches, to treat for the ransom of my mother; if they will not restore her to me, we will have recourse to arms, and we will see if a score of the best rifles of the frontiers will not give a good account of five hundred of these plunderers of the prairies."

"And if they should make you prisoner?"

"In that case I will send you my bloodhound, who will come to you in the river grotto; on seeing it come alone, you will know what that means, and will act accordingly."

The Canadian shook his head.

"No," said he, "I shall not do so."

"What! you will not do so?" the hunter exclaimed, in great surprise.

"Certainly no, I will not do so, Loyal Heart. Compared with you, who are so brave and so intelligent, I am but little worth, I know; but if I have only one good quality, nothing can deprive me of it, and that quality is my devotedness to you."

"I know it, my friend; you love me like a brother."

"And you would have me leave you, as they say in my country beyond the great lakes, to go cheerfully into the jaws of the wolf; and yet my comparison is humiliating for the wolf, for the Indians are a thousand times more ferocious! No, I repeat, I will not do that; it would be a wicked action, and if any harm happened to you, I should never forgive myself."

"Explain yourself, Belhumeur," said Loyal Heart, with a little impatience; "upon my honour I cannot possibly understand you."

"Oh! that will be easy enough," the Canadian answered; "if I am not very clever, and am not an able speaker, I have good common sense, and can see my way clearly when those I love are concerned; and I love nobody better than you, now my poor father is dead."

"Speak then, my friend," said Loyal Heart, "and pardon the little ill-humour I could not repress."

Belhumeur reflected for a few seconds, and then continued: —

"You know," he said, "that the greatest enemies we have in the prairies are the Comanches; by an inexplicable fatality, whenever we have had a struggle to maintain, it has been against them, and never have they been able to boast of the smallest advantage over us; hence has arisen between them and us an implacable hatred, a hatred which has latterly been increased by our quarrel with Eagle Head, whose arm you had the good chance, or rather the ill chance, of breaking, when it would have been so easy for you to have broken his head; a joke which I am convinced the chief has taken in very bad part, and will never forgive you. Besides, I must confess that in his place I should entertain exactly the same sentiments; I bear him no malice on that account."

"To the purpose! to the purpose!" Loyal Heart interrupted.

"The purpose! Well, this is it," Belhumeur replied, displaying no surprise at his friend's interruption: "Eagle Head is anxious, by any means, to obtain your scalp, and it is evident that if you commit the imprudence of placing yourself in his hands, he will not let the opportunity slip of finally settling his accounts with you."

"But," Loyal Heart replied, "my mother is in his power."

"Yes," said Belhumeur; "but he does not know who she is. You are aware, my friend, that the Indians only treat captured women ill in exceptional cases; generally they behave to them with the greatest respect."

"That is true," said the hunter.

"Therefore, as no one will go and tell Eagle Head that his prisoner is your mother, unless she does so herself, through the uneasiness she may feel on your account, she is as safe among the redskins as if she were on the great square of Quebec. It is useless, then, to commit an imprudence. Let us get together a score of good fellows; I don't ask for more; and let us watch the Indians. On the first opportunity that offers we will fall upon them vigorously, we will kill as many as we can, and deliver your mother. Now that, I think, is the wisest course we can take; what do you think of it?"

"I think, my friend," Loyal Heart replied, pressing his hand, "that you are the best creature in existence; that your advice is good, and I will follow it."

"Bravo!" Belhumeur exclaimed, joyfully; "that is speaking something like."

"And now – " said Loyal Heart, rising.

"Now?" Belhumeur asked.

"We will get on horseback; we will carefully avoid the Indian camp, using all possible caution not to be tracked; and will then go to the hatto of our brave companion Black Elk, who is a man of good counsel, and who will certainly be useful to us in what we purpose doing."

"Be it so, then," said Belhumeur cheerfully, leaping into his saddle.

The hunters quitted the glade they had slept in, and making a détour to avoid the Indian camp, the smoke of which they perceived within a league of them, they directed their course towards the spot where, in all probability, Black Elk was philosophically employed in laying snares for beavers, the interesting animals that Doña Luz had admired so much.

They had been thus riding on for nearly an hour, chatting and laughing, for the reasonings of Belhumeur had succeeded in convincing Loyal Heart, who, thoroughly knowing the manners of the Indians, was persuaded that his mother was in no danger, when his hounds on a sudden showed signs of excitement, and rushed forward, yelping with symptoms of joy.

"What's the matter with our rastreros?" said Loyal Heart; "one would think they smelt a friend."

"Pardieu! they have scented Black Elk, and we shall probably see them come back together."

"That is not unlikely," the hunter said pensively; and they continued their course.

At the expiration of a few minutes they perceived a horseman riding towards them at full speed, surrounded by the dogs, who ran barking by his side.

"It is not Black Elk," Belhumeur cried.

"No," said Loyal Heart, "it is Nô Eusebio; what can this mean? He is alone; can anything have happened to my mother?"

"Let us mend our pace," said Belhumeur, clapping spurs to his horse, which sprang forward with the greatest velocity.

The hunter followed him, a prey to mortal alarm.

The three horsemen were soon together.

"Woe! woe!" the old man cried, in great agitation, as he approached.

"What is the matter, Nô Eusebio? speak, in the name of Heaven."

"Your mother, Don Rafaël! your mother!"

"Well, speak! – oh, speak!" the young man cried frantically.

"Oh, my God!" said the old man, wringing his hands, "it is too late!"

"Speak, then, in the name of Heaven! – you are killing me."

The old man cast on him a look of utter desolation.

"Don Rafaël," he said, "have courage! – be a man!"

"My God! my God! what fearful news are you going to communicate to me, my friend?"

"Your mother is a prisoner to Eagle Head."

"I know she is."

"If this very day, this morning even, you do not deliver yourself up to the chief of the Comanches – "

"Well, well!"

"She will be burnt alive."

"Ah!" the young man exclaimed, with a cry amounting to a shriek.

His friend supported him, otherwise he would have fallen from his saddle.

"But," Belhumeur asked, "is it today – do you say, old man, that she is to be burnt?"

"Yes."

"Is there still time, then?"

"Alas! it was to be at sunrise; and see," he said, with an agonized gesture, pointing to the heavens.

"Oh!" Loyal Heart cried, with a vehemence impossible to be described, "I will save my mother!"

And, bending over the neck of his horse, he set off with frantic rapidity.

The others followed.

He turned round towards Belhumeur.

"Where are you going?" he asked, in a short, sharp tone.

"To help you save your mother, or to die with you."

"Come on, then!" Loyal Heart replied, plunging his spurs into the bleeding sides of his horse.

There was something fearful and terrible in the desperate course of these three men who, formed in line, with pale brows, compressed lips, and fiery looks, cleared torrents and ravines, surmounted all obstacles, incessantly urging their horses, which seemed to devour space, while panting painfully, bounding madly, and dripping with perspiration and blood.

At intervals Loyal Heart shouted one of those cries peculiar to the Mexican jinetes, and the reanimated horses redoubled their exertions.

"My God! my God! save – save my mother!" the hunter kept repeating in a hollow voice, as he rode furiously onward.