A HAND-TO-HAND FIGHT.
In order to explain thoroughly to our readers the sudden attack on the Comanche village, we are compelled to return to Red Cedar.
Black Cat had left the council to proceed to the pirates, who were ready to follow him; but as Red Cedar had noticed that the agitation prevailing in the camp on his arrival had increased instead of diminishing, he could not refrain from asking the chief what it all meant, and what had happened.
Black Cat had hastened to satisfy him by narrating the miraculous flight of Doña Clara, who had disappeared with her companions, and no one could imagine what had become of them. Since the morning, the most experienced warriors of the tribe had been on the search, but had discovered nothing. Red Cedar was far from suspecting that the maiden he had left in his camp was the one so eagerly sought by the Apaches. He reflected for some moments.
"How many white men were there?" he asked.
"Three."
"Was there no one else with them?"
"Yes," the chief said, frowning, and his eyes flashing with fury. "There were also two redskin warriors, one of them a cowardly Coras, a renegade of his nation."
"Very good," Red Cedar answered. "The chief will lead me to the council, and I will tell them where the prisoners are."
"My brother knows it, then?" Black Cat asked, quickly.
Red Cedar threw his rifle on his back, whistled softly, but gave no answer.
They reached the council lodge. Red Cedar, taking the responsibility on himself, undertook to answer the questions addressed to him by the Indians. Since Black Cat's departure, not a word had been uttered in the council. The Indians were patiently awaiting the result of the promises made by the chief. The latter resumed his place at the council fire; and, addressing the other sachem, said—
"Here are the white hunters."
"Very good," an old warrior answered, "let them speak, we hear."
Red Cedar advanced, and, leaning on his rifle, he took the word, at a sign from Black Cat.
"My red brothers," he said, in a clear and marked voice, "are all as wearied as ourselves by the continual attacks of that coyote who belongs to no nation, or no colour, and who is called the Son of Blood. If they will allow themselves to be guided by the experience of a man who has, for many years, been thoroughly acquainted with tricks and villany of which that man is capable, before long, in spite of the imposing force he has at his command, they will have driven him disgracefully from the prairies, and compelled him to recross the frontier, abandoning forever the rich hunting grounds over which he pretends to reign as a master."
"We await till our brother has explained himself more clearly, with frankness, and without equivocation," Black Cat interrupted him.
"That is what I am about to do," the squatter went on. "The prisoners you made were precious to you, because there was a white woman among them. You allowed them to escape, and must capture them again. They will be important hostages for you."
"My brother does not tell us where these prisoners have sought shelter."
Red Cedar shrugged his shoulders.
"That is, however, very easy to know. The prisoners had only one spot where they could obtain a refuge, before reaching the frontier."
"And that is?" Black Cat asked.
"The great summer village of the Comanches of the mountains, the most faithful allies of Bloodson, the sons of Unicorn, that nation which has renounced the faith of its fathers, to become completely dependent on the whites, and to whom you ought to send petticoats. Hence you need not seek your prisoners elsewhere, for they are there."
The Indians, struck by the correctness of this reasoning, gave unequivocal marks of approval, and prepared to listen with greater interest to what the hunter had still to say to them.
"My brother must, therefore, do two things," the squatter continued; "first, surprise the Comanches' village, and, secondly, march immediately against Bloodson."
"Good," Stanapat said, "my brother is a wise man; I have known him a long time; his advice is good; but the Teocali inhabited by Bloodson is well defended. In what way will my brother set about seizing it?"
"My brother will listen," Red Cedar continued. "I have ten bold hunters with me; but I have left eighty, all armed with good rifles, on an island of the endless river where they are encamped, which are awaiting my return. The detachment intended to attack the Teocali will invest it on all sides, though the warriors will not let themselves be seen; during that time I will accompany Black Cat and his tribe to the Comanche village. As soon as the prisoners have fallen into our hands, I will go and fetch my young men from the island where I left them, and return with them and Black Cat to help my brother in seizing the Teocali, which cannot resist us."
This promise, made in a loud and firm voice, produced all the effect the squatter expected. The Indians, dreaming of the immense pillage they could indulge in, and the incalculable wealth collected at the spot, had only one desire: to seize the Teocali as soon as possible. Still, through the Indian stoicism, none of the passions boiling in their veins were displayed in their faces, and it was in a cold and calm voice that Black Cat thanked Red Cedar and told him he could withdraw while the chiefs deliberated on what he had brought before them. The squatter bowed and left the council, followed by his companions.
"Well," the Gazelle asked him, "what do you fancy the redskins will do?"
"Do not be uneasy, señorita," the squatter answered, with a most meaning smile, "I know the Indians; the plan I have submitted to them is too simple, and offers too many advantages for them to decline it; I can assure you beforehand that they will follow it exactly."
"Is it far from here to the Comanche village?"
"No," the other said, emphatically; "by starting at once we should reach it this evening."
The girl gave vent to a sigh of satisfaction, and a vivid blush suffused her charming face. Red Cedar, who was watching her aside, could not refrain from muttering to himself:
"I must have the solution of the enigma ere long."
They returned to the tent.
In the Council of the Chiefs all happened as Red Cedar had foreseen: after a short deliberation, referring more to the mode of execution than to the plan itself, it was adopted unanimously.
An hour later, all was movement in the camp; the warriors rose to join the detachments and form squadrons; there was an indescribable confusion. At length, calm was gradually restored, the two war parties started in the directions proposed by Red Cedar, and soon, of the crowd of warriors who had been yelling and dancing in the camp, only thirty remained to receive the warriors as they arrived.
Black Cat placed himself at the head of his band, followed by the Pirates. The Apaches started for the Comanche village in Indian file, at their peculiar pace, which a trotting horse finds difficulty in keeping up with. The greatest silence and caution prevailed in the ranks, and it seemed as if the Apaches did not wish to be heard even by the birds.
With extraordinary dexterity, of which the Indians alone are capable, each marched in the other's footsteps so exactly that it looked as if only one person had gone along the path, carrying their care to such an extent as to stoop for fear of grazing the branches, and avoiding any contact with the shrubs. They marched as far as was possible on broken earth or rocks, that their traces might be less visible, making detours after detours, and returning a dozen times to the same spot, for the purpose of so thoroughly confusing their trail that it would be impossible to discover it.
When they reached the bank of a stream, instead of crossing it at right angles, they followed or went up it for a considerable distance, not landing again till the soil was hard enough to take the marks of their footsteps. They did all this with exemplary patience, without checking their speed, and still advancing to the object they had chosen.
They found themselves at about half past six in the evening at the top of a hill, whence the summer village of the Comanches could be perceived scarce two miles distant. The sound of the songs and chichikouis reached the Apaches at intervals, thus telling them that their enemies were rejoicing and celebrating some ceremony without any suspicion of a sudden attack. The Indians halted and consulted as to their final measures.
The Comanches have two sorts of villages, summer and winter. The latter are built with care, and some regularity. Their houses are of two stories, well arranged, light, and even elegant. But the Comanches are birds of prey, continually exposed to invasions, and menacing their enemies with them: hence they construct their villages on the point of rocks, exactly like eagles' nests, and seek all means to render them impregnable. The most curious village we have seen is formed by two lofty pyramids, standing on either side of a ravine, and connected by a bridge some distance up. These pyramids are about four hundred and twenty-five feet long by one hundred and forty-eight wide; as they rise this width diminishes, and the total height is about eighty-six feet. These two villages, divided into eight floors, contain five hundred inhabitants, who are enabled to defend themselves against a swarm of enemies from these extraordinary fortresses.
In the Comanche winter villages the door is not on the ground floor, as in Europe and civilised countries. The Comanche, when he wishes to enter his house, places a ladder against the side, mounts on the roof, and thence descends by a trap to the lower floors. When the ladder is once drawn up, it is impossible to enter the house.
The Pueblo of Aronco is situated on the summit of a scarped rock, over a precipice several hundred feet in depth. The inhabitants only enter by means of ladders, as is the case in some Swiss villages; but in time of war the ladders disappear, and the pueblo can only be reached by notches cut at regular distances in the rock.
The summer villages are only constructed for habitation in fine weather, or peace times, to facilitate getting in the crops and the chase; so soon as the first frost arrives, or a sound of war is heard, they are immediately deserted.
All the summer villages are alike; the one to which we allude here was surrounded by palisades and a wide ditch, but the fortifications, which had not been kept up, were in a complete state of dilapidation; the ditch was filled up at several spots, and the palisades, torn down by the squaws to light fires, offered, at many places, a convenient passage for assailants.
The Apaches wished to descend into the plain, unnoticed by the inhabitants; which would have been difficult, almost impossible, for European troops; but the Indians, whose wars are only one succession of surprises and ambushes, know how to surmount such difficulties.
It was arranged that the band, divided into three detachments, the first commanded by Black Cat, the second by another chief, and the third by Red Cedar, should crawl down the hillside, while the few men left to guard the horses would come up when the village was invaded.
This settled, Black Cat had torches prepared. When all was ready, the three detachments lay down on the ground, and the descent of the hill began. Assuredly, a man standing sentry in the place could not have suspected that more than five hundred warriors were marching on the village, crawling in the lofty grass like serpents, not even making the branches or leaves under which they crept oscillate, and keeping such order in their march that they always formed front.
The descent had lasted more than an hour, and as soon as the plain was reached the greatest difficulty was surmounted; for owing to the height of the plants and bushes, it was almost impossible for them to be perceived. At length, gaining ground inch by inch, after surmounting enormous obstacles and difficulties, they reached the palisade.
The first to arrive was Black Cat, who imitated the barking of the coyote. Two similar signals answered him, uttered by the chiefs of the other detachments, who had also arrived. Black Cat, now confident of being vigorously supported by his friends, seized his war whistle, and produced from it a shrill and piercing sound.
All the Indians rose as one man, and, bounding like tigers, rushed on the village, uttering their formidable war cry. They entered the village by three sides simultaneously, driving before them the terrified population; who, taken unawares, fled in every direction, howling with terror.
Some of the Apaches, as soon as they got in, lit their torches, and threw them on the straw roofs of the callis. The huts immediately caught, and the fire spreading around, served as the vanguard of the Apaches, who excited it with everything they could lay hands on.
The unhappy Comanches, surprised in the middle of a ceremony, surrounded by a belt of fire, and attacked on all sides by their ferocious enemies, who were killing and scalping women and children, suffered from the most profound despair, and only offered a weak resistance to this fierce assault. In the meanwhile the fire spread further. The village became a burning furnace—the heated air was oppressive to breathe, and masses of sparks and of smoke, driven by the wind, blinded and burnt the eyes.
The hunters, on the roof of the calli, defended themselves vigorously, not hoping to escape, but wishing, at least, to sell their lives dearly. They were already surrounded by the flames which met over their heads, and yet they did not dream of giving ground.
Still, when the first moment of terror had passed, a band of Comanche warriors had succeeded in uniting, and offered a most obstinate resistance to the Apaches. All at once, White Gazelle, with flashing eye, suffused face, clenched teeth, and blanched lips, rushed forward, followed by Red Cedar and the Pirates, who followed at her heels.
"Surrender!" she cried to Valentine.
"Coward!" the latter replied, who took her for a man; "here is my answer!"
And he fired a pistol at the girl. The bullet passed through Orson's arm, who uttered a yell of pain, and rushed madly into the medley.
"Surrender! I say again," the girl went on, "you must see that you will be killed."
"No! A hundred times no," Valentine shouted. "I will not surrender."
The Gazelle, by a prodigious effort, reached the wall of the calli, and by the help of her hands and feet, succeeded in reaching the roof before her intention was suspected. With the energy and fierceness of a tiger, she bounded on Doña Clara, seized her round the waist, and put a pistol to her forehead.
"Now, will you surrender?" she said furiously.
"Take care, Niña; take care," Sandoval shouted.
It was too late: Curumilla had felled her with the butt end of his rifle. The pirates rushed to her aid, but Valentine and his friends repulsed them. A horrible hand-to-hand combat began over the body of the girl, who lay senseless on the ground.
Valentine took a scrutinising glance around him; with a movement swift as thought he caught up Doña Clara, and, leaping from the calli, he fell into the midst of a detachment of Comanches, who welcomed him with shouts of joy. Without loss of time the hunter laid the maiden, who was half dead with terror, on the ground, and placing himself at the head of the warriors, he made so successful a charge, that the Apaches, surprised in their turn, were compelled to give ground. Don Pablo and the others then rejoined the hunters.
"By Jove! It is warm work," said the Frenchman, whose hair and eyebrows were scorched. "Our friend, Red Cedar, has brought this on us. I was decidedly wrong in not killing him."
In the meanwhile the Comanches had recovered from their terror; the warriors had found arms and assumed the offensive. Not only did the Apaches no longer advance, but at various points they began falling back, inch by inch, it is true but it was already a retreat. The pirates, rendered desperate by the wound of their darling child, surrounded her, and tried in vain to recall her to life. Red Cedar alone fought at the head of the Apaches, and performed prodigies of valour.
Night had set in, and the combat was still going on by the sinister glare of the fire. Valentine took Pethonista aside, and whispered a few words.
"Good," the chief answered; "my brother is a great warrior: he will save my nation."
And he straightway disappeared, making some of his men a sign to follow him.
Doña Clara was not long despondent; when the first effect of terror had passed she rose and seized a pistol.
"Do not trouble yourself about me," she said to Valentine and her brother. "Do your duty as brave hunters: if I am attacked, I can defend myself."
"I will remain by your side," said Shaw, giving her a passionate glance.
"Be it so," she answered with a kind smile; "henceforth I shall be in safety."
The Comanches had entrenched themselves with their squaws in the great square of the village, where the flames did not affect them greatly. Indeed, the wretched callis had not taken long to burn; the fire was already expiring for lack of nourishment, and they were fighting on a heap of cinders.
Valentine, while fighting in the first ranks of his allies, contented himself with holding the positions he had succeeded in occupying, and did not attempt to repulse the Apaches. All at once the war cry of the Comanches, mingled with a formidable hurrah, sounded in the rear of the Apaches, who were attacked with incredible fury.
"Bloodson! Bloodson!" the Apaches shouted, attacked with extraordinary terror.
It was, in truth, the stranger, who, followed by Don Miguel, General Ibañez, Unicorn, and all his comrades, rushed like a whirlwind on the Apaches. Valentine gave vent to a shout of joy in response to the hurrah of his friends, and rushed forward at the head of his warriors. From this moment the medley became horrible: it was no longer a combat, but a butchery, an atrocious carnage!