THE PAPAZOS.
We will not return to Stronghand and José Paredes, whom we have left too long at the top of the hill. The night passed without any incident, the majordomo sleeping like a man overcome by fatigue; as for the hunter, he did not close his eyes once. The sun had risen for a long time; it was nearly nine o'clock, but the hunter, forgetting apparently what he had said to his comrade, did not dream of departure. José Paredes slept on. It was a magnificent day; the sky, swept by the night hurricane, was cloudless; the sun darted down its glowing beams; and yet the atmosphere, tempered by the storm, retained an agreeable freshness. The water was disappearing with a rapidity almost equalling that it bad displayed in rising, being drunk by the thirsty sand or by the hot sunbeams; the plain had lost its lacustrine appearance; and all led to the supposition that by midday the ground would be firm enough to be ventured on in safety.
As the canoe was unnecessary, the hunter did not try to get it down from the tree; with his back leant against the larch tree, his hands folded, and his head bowed on his chest, he was thinking, and at times taking an anxious glance at his sleeping comrade. At length the majordomo turned, stretched out his arms and legs, opened his eyes, and gave a formidable yawn.
"¡Caramba!" he said, as he measured the height of the sun; "I fancy I have forgotten myself; it must be very late."
"Ten o'clock," the hunter answered with a smile.
"Ten o'clock!" José exclaimed, as he leaped up; "And you have let me idle thus instead of waking me."
"You slept so soundly, my friend, that I had not the courage to do so."
"Hum!" Paredes replied, half laughing, half vexed; "I know not whether I ought to complain or thank you for this weakness, for we have lost precious time."
"Not at all; see, the water has disappeared; the ground is growing firm again, and when the great heat of the day is spent we will mount our horses and catch up in a few hours the time you are regretting."
"That is true, and you are right, comrade," said the majordomo, as he looked around with the practised glance of a man accustomed to a desert life. "Well, as it is so," he added, with a laugh, "suppose we breakfast, for that will enable us to kill some time."
"Very good," the hunter replied, good humouredly. They breakfasted as they had supped on the previous night. When the hour for starting at length arrived, they saddled their horses and led them down the hill; for the ascent which they had escaladed so actively by night, under the impulse of the pressing danger that threatened them, now proved extremely steep, abrupt, and difficult. When they mounted, Stronghand said—"My friend, I am going to take you to an atepetl of the Redskins. Do you consider that disagreeable?"
"Not personally, but I will ask what advantage my master can derive from it?"
"That question I am unable to answer at the moment. You must know, though, that we are taking this step on your master's behalf, and that his affairs, instead of suffering by it, will be greatly benefited."
"Let us go, then. One word, however, first. Are the Redskins, to whom we are proceeding, a long distance off?"
"It would be almost a journey for any persons but us."
"Hum!" said Paredes.
"But you and I," the hunter continued, "who are true guides, and who have also the advantage of being well mounted, will reach the village at three or four o'clock tomorrow afternoon at the latest."
"In that case it is not very distant."
"I told you so."
"And in what direction is the village?"
"You must have often heard it spoken of, if chance has never led your footsteps thither."
"Why so?"
"Because it is only a dozen leagues at the most from the Hacienda del Toro."
"Wait a minute," the majordomo said, frowning like a man who is collecting his thoughts; "you are right, I have never been to that village, it is true, but I have often heard it spoken of. Is not one of the chiefs a white man?"
The hunter blushed slightly.
"So people say," he answered.
"Is it not strange," the majordomo continued, "that a white man should consent to abandon entirely the society of his fellows to live with savages?"
"Why so?"
"Hang it! Because the Indians are devoid of reason, as everybody knows."
The hunter gave his companion a glance of indefinable meaning, slightly shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply; probably from the reason that he had too much to say, and considered the majordomo's rather heavy mind incapable of appreciating it. The day passed without any occurrences to interrupt the monotony of their ride, which they continued with great speed till night, only stopping from time to time to shoot a few birds for supper. Galloping, talking, and smoking, they at length reached the spot where they intended to bivouac. The road they had followed in no way resembled the one the majordomo had taken on leaving the hacienda, although they were returning in the direction of Arispe. This resulted from the fact that Paredes had kept in the regular road, while this time the two men rode Indian fashion, that is to say, straight ahead without troubling themselves about roads. They galloped on as the bird flies, crossing mountains and swimming rivers whenever they came to them, without losing time in seeking a ford.
This mode of travelling, generally adopted by the wood rangers of the savannah, where the only roads are tracks made by the wild beasts, would not be possible in civilized countries, where there are so many towns and villages; but in Mexico, especially on the Indian border, towns are excessively rare: by riding in this way distances are marvellously shortened and a considerable tract is covered between two sunrises. This is what happened to the two adventurers; for in one day they went a greater distance than Paredes had done in eight-and-forty hours, though he was well mounted. At night they camped in a wood beyond the Hacienda del Toro, which building they saw rising gloomy and tranquil like an eagle's nest on the top of its rock, and they passed close to it during the afternoon.
The country assumed a wilder and more abrupt aspect; the grass was thicker, the trees were larger, older, and closer together; it was evident that the travellers were at the extreme limit of civilization, and would soon find themselves in the Red territory, although nominally, at least on the maps, this territory figured among the possessions of the Mexican Confederation. This feature, by the way, is found everywhere throughout the New World. Even in the United States, which pretend, erroneously, we believe, to be more civilized than their neighbours, towns with high-flown names may be seen on the maps of their large possessions, which only exist in reality as a name painted on a solitary post, planted in the centre of a plain or on the bank of a river, without even a keeper to watch over the preservation of this post, which, worn by wind and sun, eventually disappears, though the town never sprung up in its place. During our travels we were too often the victim of this humorous Yankee mystification not to feel angry with this eccentric nation, which repeats to every newcomer that it marches at the head of civilization, and has a mission to regenerate the New World.
The two men, after lighting their watch fire, supped with good appetite, rolled themselves in their zarapés, and fell asleep, trusting to the instinct of their horses to warn them of the approach of any enemy, whether man or wild beast, that attempted to surprise them during their slumbers. But nothing disturbed them; the night was quiet; at sunrise they awoke, mounted, and continued their journey, which would only take a few hours longer.
"I am mistaken," the hunter said suddenly, turning to his companion.
"How so?" the latter asked.
"Because," Stronghand replied, "I told you yesterday we should not reach the atepetl till the afternoon."
"Well?"
"We shall be there by eleven o'clock."
"¡Caramba! That is famous news."
"When we have crossed that hill we shall see the village a short distance ahead of us, picturesquely grouped on the side of another hill, and running into the plain, where the last houses are built on the banks of a pretty little stream, whose white and limpid waters serve as a natural rampart."
"Tell me, comrade, what do you think of the reception that will be offered us?"
"The Papazos are hospitable."
"I do not doubt it; unluckily, I have no claims to the kindness of the Redskins. Moreover, I know that they are very suspicious, and never like to see white men enter their villages."
"That depends on the way in which white men try to enter them."
"There is another reason which, I confess, supplies me with reason for grave thought."
"What is it?"
"It is said—mark me, I do not assert it—"
"All right; go on."
"It is said that the Papazos are excited, and on the point of revolting, if they have not done so already."
"They rose in insurrection some days ago," Stronghand coolly answered.
"What?" the majordomo exclaimed, greatly startled, "and you are leading me to them?"
"Why not?"
"Because we shall be massacred, that's all."
The hunter shrugged his shoulders.
"You are mad."
"I am mad—I am mad!" Paredes repeated, shaking his head very dubiously; "it pleases you to say that, but I am not at all desirous, if I can avoid it, of thus placing myself in the power of men who must be my enemies."
"I repeat that nothing will happen to you. ¡Viva Dios! do you fancy me capable of leading you into a snare?"
"No; on my honour that is not my thought; but you may be mistaken, and credit these savages with feelings they do not possess."
"I am certain of what I assert. Not only have you nothing to fear, but you will have an honourable reception."
"Honourable?" the majordomo remarked, with an air of incredulity; "I am not very certain of that."
"You shall see. Woe to the man who dared to hurt a hair of your head while you are in my company."
"Who are you, to speak thus?"
"A hunter, nothing else; but I am a friend of the Papazos, and adopted son of one of their tribes; and every man, though he were the mortal enemy of the nation, must for my sake, be received as a brother by the sachems and warriors."
"Well, be it so," the majordomo muttered, in the tone of a man forced in his last entrenchments, and who resolves to make up his mind.
"Besides," the hunter added, "any hesitation would now be useless and perhaps dangerous."
"Why so?"
"Because the Indians have their scouts scattered through the woods and over the plain already; they saw and signalled our approach long ago, and if we attempted to turn back, it would justly appear suspicious; and then we should suddenly see Indians rise all round us, and be immediately made prisoners, before we even thought of defending ourselves."
"¡Demonio! that makes the matter singular, comrade; then you believe we have been seen already?"
"Would you like to have a proof on the spot?" the hunter asked, laughingly.
"Well, I should not mind, for I should then know what I have to expect."
"Well, I will give you the proof."
The travellers had reached the foot of the hill, and were at this moment concealed by the tall grass that surrounded them. Stronghand stopped his horse, and imitated the cry of the mawkawis twice. Almost immediately the grass parted, an Indian bounded from a thick clump of trees with the lightness of an antelope, and stopped two yards from the hunter, on whom he fixed his black, intelligent eyes, without saying a word. The apparition of the Redskin was so sudden, his arrival so unexpected, that, in spite of himself, the majordomo could not restrain a start of surprise.
This Indian was a man of three-and-twenty years of age at the most, whose exquisite proportions made him resemble a statue of Florentine bronze; the whole upper part of his body was naked: his unloosened hair hung in disorder over his shoulders; his clothing merely consisted of trousers sewn with horsehair, fastened round the loins by a belt of untanned leather, and tied at the ankles. A tomahawk and a scalping knife—weapons which the Indians never lay aside—hung from his belt, and he leant with careless grace upon a long rifle of American manufacture. The hunter bowed, and after stretching out his arm, with the palm turned down and the fingers straight, said in a gentle voice—"Wah! The Waconda protects me, since the first person I see, on returning to my people, is Sparrowhawk."
The young Indian bowed in his turn with the native courtesy characteristic of the Redskin, and replied in a guttural voice, which, however, was very gentle—"For a long time the sachems have been informed of the coming of the Great Bear of their Nation; they thought that only one chief was worthy saluting Stronghand on his return. Sparrowhawk is happy that he was chosen by them."
"I thank the sachems of my nation," the hunter said, with a meaning glance at the majordomo, "for having designed to do me so signal an honour. Will my son return to the village with us, or will he precede us?"
"Sparrowhawk will go ahead, in order that the guest of Stronghand, my father, may be received with the honours due to a man who comes in the company of the Great Bear."
"Good! My brother will act as becomes a chief. Stronghand will not detain him longer."
The young Indian bowed his head in assent, leapt backwards, and disappeared in the thicket whence he had emerged, with such rapidity, that if the grass had not continued to undulate after his departure, his apparition would have seemed like a dream.
"We can now start again," the hunter said to the majordomo, who was utterly confounded.
"Let us go!" the latter answered, mechanically.
"Well," answered Stronghand, "do you now believe that you have anything to fear among the Papazos?"
"Excuse me; as you said, I was a madman to fear it."
They crossed the plain, following a wild beast track which, after numberless windings, reached a ford, and in about an hour they arrived at the bank of the river. Twelve Papazo Indians, dressed in their war paint and mounted on magnificent horses, were standing motionless and in single file in front of the ford.
So soon as they perceived the two travellers, they uttered loud shouts and dashed forward to meet them, firing their guns, brandishing their weapons, and waving their white female buffalo robes, which, by-the-bye, only the most renowned sachems of the nation have the right to wear. The two white men, on their side, spurred their horses, responding to the shouts of the Indians, and firing their guns. All at once, at a signal from one of the chiefs, all the horsemen stopped, and arranged themselves round the travellers, to act as an escort. The whole party crossed the ford and entered the village, amid the deafening shouts of the women and children, with which were inharmoniously blended the bark of dogs, the hoarse notes of the shells, and the shrill sounds of the chichikoues.