Майн Рид
The Wild Huntress: Love in the Wilderness

Chapter One Hundred One
A Caravan Ball

As if to favour our design, the night descended dusk as the wing of a vulture. The summits of San Juan were no longer visible – their outlines becoming blended with the dark background of sky; while the more sombre slopes of the Sierra Mojada had long since faded from the view. Even light-coloured objects could be but dimly traced through the profound obscurity – such as the white covers of the waggons, our own weather-bleached buffalo-tents, the metallic sheen of the stream, and the speckled oxen browsing along its banks. Between these objects the atmosphere was filled with a uniform and amorphous darkness; and dusky forms like ours could be seen only under the light of the blazing fires. A few of these had been kindled outside the enclosure – near the avenue entrance; but most were inside, surrounded by groups of emigrants – the flames casting their ruddy light upon the bright cheerful faces of women and children, or on the ruder and more careworn countenances of the men. Underneath the waggon-bodies, the red light, broken by the radiating spokes of the wheels, gleamed outward in a thousand jets; and men walking outside, flung gigantic shadows over the plain. Nearer to the line of barricade, only the shadows of their limbs were projected, the upper part of their persons being shrouded from the glare by the tilts and boxing of the waggons. Under this friendly cover we were enabled to approach close up to the vehicles, without much risk of attracting observation. But few persons were straying outside – only the cattle-guards and other routine-officers of the caravan, all equally negligent of their duties. They knew they were in Utah territory, and had no enemy to fear.

It was, moreover, the hour of most interest in the daily routine of a travelling-train: when forms cluster around the bivouac fire, and bright faces shine cheerfully in the blaze; when the song succeeds the supper, the tale is told, and the merry laugh rings on the air; when the pipe sends up its aromatic wreaths of blue curling smoke; and sturdy limbs, already rested from the toils of the day, feel an impulse to spring upward on the “light fantastic toe.” On that eve, such an impulse had inspired the limbs of the Mormon emigrants. Scarcely had the débris of the supper been removed, ere a space was cleared midway between the blazing fires; music swelled upon the air – the sounds of fiddle, horn, and clarionet – and half a score of couples, setting themselves en quadrille, commence treading time to the tune. Sufficiently bizarre was the exhibition – a dance of the true “broad-horn” breed; but we had no thought of criticising an entertainment so opportune to our purpose. The swelling sound of the instruments drowning low conversation – the confusion of many voices – the attraction of the saltatory performance – were all circumstances that had suddenly and unexpectedly arisen in our favour. My companion and I had no longer a fear that our movements would be noted. Indeed, only those who might be in the waggons, and looking through the draw-string aperture in the rear of the tilts, would be likely to see us at all. But most of these apertures were closed, some with curtains of common canvas – others with an old counterpane, a blanket, or such rag as was fitted for the service.

We saw no face looking outwards. All were turned upon the attractive circle of Terpsichoreans, that, under the brilliant light of the fires, were bounding through the mazy figures, of the dance. The waggons forming the sides of the enclosure were in echellon; and their tilts lapping on each other, it was impossible to see between them. With the two, however, that closed the end of the corral, the case was different. These had been drawn up side by side, and parallel to each other; and though their wheels touched, there still remained a space above the tires, through which we could command a view of the ground within the enclosure. At this point we had placed, ourselves. It proved the very vantage-ground we desired. We could view the enclosed ellipse longitudinally, and note nearly every movement made by those inside. Even should we be detected in our espionage, it would pass without suspicion as to our real object. What more natural than that we should desire to witness the spectacle of the dance? The act would be construed as springing from mere savage curiosity?

Our eyes, wandering over the different figures, soon became fixed upon two. They were men, and seated – near each other, and some paces apart from the crowd of dancers. They were Holt and Stebbins. Both were by the side of a large fire, that threw its red light in full glare over them – so that not only their figures, but even the expression upon their features we could distinctly trace. The squatter, pipe in mouth, and with head drooping down almost to his knees, looked grimly into the fire. He was paying no attention to what was passing around him. His thoughts were not there? Stebbins, on the other hand, appeared eagerly to watch the dancers. He was dressed with a degree of adornment; and exhibited a certain patronising attitude, as if master of the sports and ceremonies! Men and women went and came, as if paying court to him; and each was kept for a moment in courtly converse, and then graciously dismissed, with all the ludicrous etiquette of mock ceremonial!

I looked among the dancers – scrutinising each face as it came round to the light. There were girls and women – some of all ages. Even the gross mulatto was “on the floor,” hobbling through the figures of a quadrille. But Lilian? I was disappointed in not seeing her – a disappointment that gratified me. Where was she? Among the spectators? I made a hurried examination of the circle. There were faces fair and young – white teeth and rose-hued cheeks – but not hers. She was not among them! I turned to her sister to make a conjectural inquiry. I saw that the eyes of Marian were fixed upon her father. She was regarding him with a singular expression. I could fancy that some strange reflection was passing through her mind – some wild emotion swelling within her bosom. I refrained from interrupting the current of her thoughts.

Up to this time, the waggon beside which we stood had been dark inside. Suddenly, and, as if by magic, a light flashed within, gleaming through the translucent canvas. A candle had been lighted under the tilt; and now continued to burn steadily. I could not resist the temptation to look under the canvas. Perhaps a presentiment guided me? It needed no disarrangement of the cover. I had only to step a pace to one side and opposite the curtain in the rear of the vehicle. The slight rude hanging had been negligently closed. An interstice left open between the two flaps permitted a fall view of the interior. A number of large boxes and articles of household use filled up the bed of the waggon. Over these had been thrown some coarse garments, and pieces of bed-clothing – blankets, counterpanes, and a bolster or two. Near the forward end, a chest of large dimensions stood higher than the rest; and upon the lid of this a piece of tallow-candle was burning, in the neck of an old bottle! Between the flame of the candle and my eyes a figure intervened, shadowing the rearward part of the waggon. It was a female figure; and, dim as was the light, I could trace the outlines of a lovely silhouette, that could be no other than that of Lilian Holt. A slight movement of the head brought the gleam of golden-hair under the flickering flame; and the features were seen en profile. They were hers. It was Lilian who occupied the waggon. She was alone – though in front of the vehicle, I could see forms not distant from where she sat. Young men were loitering there. Ardent glances were directed towards her. She appeared desirous of shunning them. She held in her hands a book. One might have fancied she was reading it: for it was open. But the light fell sparingly on the page; and her stealthy glances towards it told, something else than the book was occupying her attention. A piece of detached paper that gleamed whiter between the leaves, was evidently the object of her solicitude. It was the writing upon that she was trying to decipher. I watched with eager glance. I noted every movement of the fair reader. Marian had joined me. We both watched together.

It required an effort to restrain ourselves from speech. A word would have been worth all this writing; but it might also have ruined everything. They who stood in front of the waggon might hear that word. It was not spoken. Lilian was evidently embarrassed by the presence of these young men; and cast uneasy glances towards them as she read. Perhaps the restraint thus placed upon her hindered any violent show of emotion, which the writing on the paper might have called forth. A short suppressed sigh, as she finished reading; a quick searching glance among the groups in front – another, shot stealthily towards the rear of the waggon – this was all in her manner that might have appeared unusual. I waited till her eyes were again turned rearward; and then, gently parting the canvas flaps, I held Marian’s note between my fingers inside the curtain. The apparition of my red-hand did not cause an alarm. The poem had paved the way for the more prosaic epistle: and neither scream nor start was occasioned by its delivery. As soon as I saw that the piece of paper was observed, I dropped it among the boxes, and withdrew my hand. The fear that we might have been noticed standing too long in one place, influenced us to move away. If fortune should favour the reading of that note, on our return we might find our scheme much more ripe for execution. With this reflection, we glided silently from the spot.

Chapter One Hundred Two
To Horse and away

Our absence was of short duration – a turn to the tents and back again. While there, I had spoken a word to Wingrove and Sure-shot. Archilete was still absent. I had warned my comrades not to picket our horses at too great a distance from the tents: as we knew not how soon we might need them. Little thought I, as I delivered this cautionary counsel, that within the hour – nay, almost within that minute – we should be hastening to mount and be gone! Our idea had been that some time about midnight – perhaps later – when the camp should be buried in sleep – Lilian, already warned that we were in wait for her, would steal forth and join us at the tents. Thence, trusting to the speed of our horses, we should find no difficulty in escaping – even though pursuit might be given on the instant of our departure. We were all well-mounted – as well, at least, as the Mormons could be – and with a guide who knew the passes, we should have the advantage of them.

It did not occur to Marian or myself, that that very moment might have been more appropriate for flight, than the hour of midnight or any other. Then, in the midst of their noisy revelry, when all eyes were turned upon the dance, and souls absorbed in the giddy whirl of pleasure – when slight sounds were unnoticed amidst the swelling music and the clangour of voices – when even the hoof-stroke of a galloping horse would have fallen unheard or unheeded – then, indeed, would have been the very time for our designed abduction! The idea did not occur to either of us. I cannot tell why it did not: unless it was that we were hindered from thinking of final measures, by our uncertainty as to the disposition of Lilian. Her consent was now the most important condition to our success – as her refusal would be its grandest obstacle. Surely she would not refuse? We could not for a moment harbour the apprehension. By this time she must have read the letter? We could now safely speak face to face with her – that is, if opportunity should be found for an interview. To seek that opportunity, therefore, were we returning a second time to the rear of the waggons. The candle was yet burning under the tilt. Its flame feebly illuminated the canvas. We drew near with stealthy tread, taking notice that we were not observed. We stood once more by the end of the huge vehicle. We were raising our eyes to look through the curtain, when at that instant the light went out. Some one had suddenly extinguished it! One might have regarded this as an ill omen; but, the moment after, we could hear a slight rustling sound – as of some one moving under the cover of the waggon, and passing along towards its hinder end. We stood silent, listening to the sound. It ceased at length; but, immediately after, the edge of the curtain was raised slowly, and without noise. A face appeared in the opening! There was scarcely any light; but even through the grim darkness that lovely face gleamed soft and white. Marian stood nearest, and easily recognised it. In a tender tone she pronounced the magic word: “Sister!”

“O Marian! sister! is it you?”

“Yes, dearest Lil! But hush! speak low!”

“Are you yet alive, dear Marian? or am I dreaming?”

“No dream, sister, but a reality.”

“O mercy! tell me, sister – ”

“All – all – but not now – there is no time.”

“But he, dear sister? who is he that is with you?”

I stepped near enough to reply in a whisper: “One, Lilian, who thinks of thee!”

“O sir! Edward! – Edward! – it is you!”

“Hush!” whispered Marian, again interposing with a quick gesture of caution. “Speak only in whispers! Lilian!” continued she in a firm tone, “you must fly with us!”

“From our father? Do you mean that, Marian?”

“From our father – ay, even from him!”

“O dear sister! what will he say? what will he do, if I forsake him? – Our poor father! – ”

There was anguish in the tones of her voice, that told of filial affection still strong and true, however much it may have been trampled upon.

“Say and do?” interrupted Marian. “He will rejoice —should rejoice – when he knows the danger from which you have escaped. O sister! dear sister! believe me – believe your own Marian! A fearful fate is before you. Flight with us can alone save you. Even father will soon be powerless to protect you, as he was to protect me. Do not hesitate then, but say you will go with us? Once beyond the reach of those villains who surround you, all will be well.”

“And our father, Marian?”

“No harm will come to him. It is not his ruin they seek; but yours, sister, yours!” A choking sigh was all the reply I could hear. It appeared to be a signal that the spell was broken: as if the heart had escaped from some thraldom in which it had been long held. Had the words of Marian produced conviction? or had they but confirmed some apprehension previously conceived? Was it the snapping of the filial thread I had heard in that anguished expression? Both the sigh and the silence that followed seemed to signify assent. To make more sure, I was about to add the influence of my intervention, with all the fervency of a lover’s appeal. Wild words were upon my lips; when at that moment some strange interjections reached my ears, uttered within the enclosure. I stepped suddenly to one side, and looked over the wheels of the waggon. There I beheld a spectacle that caused the blood to rush through my veins in quick quivering current. Marian saw it at the same time. Holt had been seated near the fire, when seen but the moment before; but, as we now looked through, we saw that he had risen to his feet, and was standing in an attitude that betrayed some singular excitement! It was from him the interjections had proceeded. The cause was easily explained. The dog Wolf was leaping up against his legs – uttering low growls of recognition, and making other demonstrations of joy. The animal had identified its old master! Despite the stained snout and close-trimmed tonsure – despite both paint and shears – the dog had been also identified. Between him and his master the recognition was mutual. I saw this at a glance; and the speeches of the squatter only confirmed what was already evident to the eye.

“Durn it, ef ’taint my ole dog!” cried he, after several shorter exclamations – “my ole dog Wolf! Hullo, Stebbins!” continued he, facing sharply round to the Saint; “what’s the meanin’ o’ this? Didn’t you tell me that he wur dead?”

Stebbins had turned pale as a sheet; and I could see his thin lips quivering with excitement. It was less fear than some other passion that was playing upon his features; and too easily could I conjecture the current of thought that was running through his brain. The presence of that animal must have called up a train of reflections, far wilder and stranger than those that were passing through the mind of the squatter; and I could perceive that he was making an effort to conceal his emotions. “’Tis a very odd circumstance,” said he, speaking in a tone of assumed surprise – “very odd indeed! It is your dog, certainly, though the animal has been disfigured. I thought he was dead. The men of our spring caravan told me so. They said that the wolves had killed him.”

“Wolves! durn it, I mout a know’d they kudn’t a killed him – not all the wolves on the parairies! Why thur ain’t the scratch o’ a claw on him! Whar did he come from anyhow? Who’s brought him hyur?”

I could see that Stebbins was desirous of parrying the question. He gave an evasive answer. “Who knows? He has likely been in the hands of some Indians – the paint shows that – and preferring the company of whites, he has followed us, and strayed into the camp.”

“Did he come with them ere Injuns that’s outside?” quickly inquired Holt.

“No? – I fancy not with them,” answered the Mormon, in whose glance I could detect the falsehood.

“Let’s go an’ see!” proposed the squatter, making a step towards the entrance of the corral.

“No – not to-night, Holt!” hastily interposed the other, and with an eagerness that showed the interest he felt in procrastinating the inquiry. “We must not disturb them to-night. In the morning, we can see them, and learn all about it.”

“Durn about disturbin’ them! Why not to-night, instead o’ the mornin’?”

“Well – if you wish to know to-night, I’ll go myself, and speak to the guide. No doubt, if the dog came with them, he can tell us all about it? You stay here till I return?”

“Don’t be long then. Ho, Wolf! ole fellur! Injuns have had ye, eh? Durn it, old boy! I’m as gled to see ye, as if – ”

An unexpected reflection was called forth by the form of speech – not that to which he was about to give words – but one whose bitterness, not only hindered him from saying what he had intended, but caused him instantly to abandon his caresses of the dog. Staggering back to his seat, he dropped heavily down upon it – at the same time burying his face in his hands. The expression upon the Mormon’s features, as he parted from the fire, was one of demoniac significance. Clearly he comprehended all! I saw him gliding off through, the corral, with silent stealthy tread, like some restless spirit of darkness. Here and there he paused; and for a moment held one in conversation – then quickly passing on to another. There was no mistaking the object of these manoeuvres. As clearly as if declared. I divined their intent. He was summoning the “Destroyers!”

Not a moment was to be lost. I rushed back to the rear of the waggon; and with open arms gave utterance to my anguished appeal. But it needed not that, Marian had been, before me. Both she and her sister had witnessed the scene within the corral. Both already foresaw the coming storm: and ere my lips could close, after delivering the impassioned speech, Lilian Holt lay upon my bosom! It was the first time that fair cheek had pressed upon my shoulder – the first time those soft arms had entwined around my neck! Not for an instant dared I indulge in the sweet embrace. If we lingered, it might be the last! To the tents! to the tents! I knew that the horses would be waiting. A signal already given should have warned my comrades; and I had no conjecture, no fear about their being in readiness. As I expected, we found them all – both men and horses – the steeds saddled, bridled, and ready. The Mexican was there with the rest. The apparition of the dog had given him his cue; and he had hurriedly returned to the tents. We thought not of these, nor of the other paraphernalia – neither our mules nor their packs. Our lives and liberty alone concerned us. My Arab neighed joyfully, as I sprang into the saddle. He was proud to carry that fairer form upon the croup; and, as he bounded forward over the plain, his triumphant snort told, that he understood the glorious service he was called upon to perform.

As we parted from the tents, we could see a number of dark forms rushing out from the avenue. In the red glare their shadows were projected far over the plain – even in advance of our horses. They were the shadows of men afoot; and we soon galloped beyond them. The music had suddenly ceased; and the murmuring hum of the dancers had given place to shouts and loud cries, that betokened a stampede in the camp. We could distinguish the voices of men calling to the horse-guards; and, soon after, the quick trampling of hoofs, as the animals were hurried up to the enclosure. But we had very little uneasiness about the pursuit. We were too well-mounted to fear being overtaken; and, as we galloped off into the night, with confidence could we echo the cry of the bold borderer: “They’ll have fleet steeds that follow!”