THE MEETING.
"By Jove!" General Ibañez said, "it must be confessed that these red devils have done us an immense service without suspecting it. It might be said, deuce take me, that they acted under a knowledge of facts. This Unicorn, as the chief is called, is a precious man in certain circumstances. I am anxious to cultivate his acquaintance, for no one knows what may happen. It is often good to have so intelligent a friend as him at hand."
"You are always jesting, general. When will you be serious for once?" Don Miguel said with a smile.
"What would you have, my friend? We are at this moment staking our heads in a desperate game, so let us at any rate keep our gaiety. If we are conquered, it will be time enough then to be sad, and make bitter reflections about the instability of human affairs."
"Yes, your philosophy is not without a certain dose of fatalism, which renders it more valuable to me. I am happy to see you in this good temper, especially at a moment when we are preparing to play our last card."
"All is not desperate yet, and I have a secret foreboding, on the contrary, that all is for the best. Our friend the Trail-hunter, I feel convinced, has something to do, if not all, with what has happened to us."
"Do you believe it?" Don Miguel asked quickly.
"I am certain of it. You know as well as I do these Indios Bravos, and the implacable hatred they have vowed against us. The war they wage with us is atrocious; and for them to be suddenly changed from wolves into lambs requires some powerful motive to make them act thus. People do not lay aside in a moment a hatred which has endured for ages. The Comanches, by the choice they made, know the importance of the prisoners they have seized. How is it that they consent so easily to give them up for a trifling ransom? There is some inexplicable mystery in all this."
"Which is very easy to explain though," a laughing voice interrupted from behind the shrubs.
The two Mexicans started, and checked their horses. A man leaped from a thicket, and suddenly appeared in the centre of the track the little band of hunters was following. The latter, believing in a fresh attack and treachery on the part of the Comanches, seized their weapons.
"Stop!" Don Miguel said sharply, "the man is alone. Let me speak with him."
Each waited with his hand on his weapon.
"Hold!" Don Miguel continued, addressing the stranger, who stood motionless, carelessly resting on his gun. "Who are you, my master?"
"Do you not recognise me, Don Miguel? and must I really tell you my name?" the stranger answered with a laugh.
"The Trail-hunter!" Don Miguel exclaimed.
"Himself," Valentine continued. "Hang it all! You take a long time to recognise your friends."
"You will forgive us when you know all that has happened to us, and how much we must keep on our guard."
"Confound it!" Valentine said laughingly, as he regulated his pace by the trot of the horses, "do you fancy you are going to tell me any news? Did you not really suspect from what quarter the blow came?"
"What!" Don Miguel exclaimed in surprise, "did you—"
"Who else but I? Do you think the Spaniards are such friends of the Indians that the latter would treat them so kindly when meeting them face to face in the desert?"
"I was sure of it," General Ibañez affirmed. "I guessed it at the first moment."
"Good heavens! Nothing was more simple. Your position, through Red Cedar's treachery, was most critical. I wished to give you the time to turn round by removing, for a few days, the obstacles that prevented the success of your plans. I have succeeded, I fancy."
"You could not have managed better," exclaimed the general.
"Oh!" Don Miguel said with a reproachful accent, "why did you hide it from me?"
"For a very simple reason, my friend. I wished that in these circumstances your will and conscience should be free."
"But—"
"Let me finish. Had I told you of my plan, it is certain that you would have opposed it. You are a man of honor, Don Miguel: your heart is most loyal."
"My friend—"
"Answer me. Had I explained to you the plan I formed, what would you have done?"
"Well—"
"Answer frankly."
"I should have refused."
"I was sure of it. Why would you have done so? Because you would never have consented to violate the laws of hospitality, and betray enemies you sheltered beneath your roof, though you knew all the while that these men, on leaving you, would have considered it their duty to seize you, and that they watched your every movement while sitting by your side, and eating at your table. Is it not so?"
"It is true; my honor as a gentleman would have revolted. I could not have suffered such horrible treachery to be carried out under my very eyes."
"There! You see that I acted wisely in saying nothing to you. In that way your honor is protected, your conscience easy, and I have in the most simple fashion freed you for some days from your enemies."
"That is true; still—"
"What? Have the prisoners to complain of the way in which they have been treated?"
"Not at all; on the contrary, the Comanches, and Unicorn in particular, treated them most kindly."
"All is for the best, then. You must congratulate yourself on the unexpected success you have achieved, and must now profit by it without delay."
"I intend to do so."
"You must act at once."
"I ask nothing better. All is ready. Our men are warned, and they will rise at the first signal."
"It must be given immediately."
"I only ask the time to leave my daughter at the hacienda; then accompanied by my friends, I will march on Paso, while General Ibañez, at the head of a second band, seizes Santa Fe."
"The plan is well conceived. Can you count on the persons who follow you?"
"Yes; they are all my relatives or friends."
"All for the best. Let us not go further. We are here at the place where the roads part; let your horses breathe awhile, and I will tell you a plan I have formed, and which, I think, will please you."
The small party halted. The horsemen dismounted, and lay down on the grass. As all knew of the conspiracy formed by Don Miguel, and were his accomplices in different degrees, this halt did not surprise them, for they suspected that the moment for action was not far off, and that their chief doubtless wished to take his final measures before throwing off the mask, and proclaiming the independence of New Mexico. On inviting them to hunt the wild horses, Don Miguel had not concealed from them Red Cedar's treachery, and the necessity in which he found himself of dealing a great blow, if he did not wish all to be hopelessly lost.
Valentine led the hacendero and the general a short distance apart. When they were out of ear-shot the hunter carefully examined the neighbourhood; then within a few minutes rejoined his friends, whom his way of acting considerably perplexed.
"Caballeros," he said to them, "what do you intend doing? In our position minutes are ages. Are you ready to make your pronunciamento?"
"Yes," they answered.
"This is what I propose. You, Don Miguel, will proceed direct on Paso. At about half a league from that town you will find Curumilla, with twenty of the best rifles on the frontier. These men, in whom you can trust, are Canadian and Indian hunters devoted to me. They will form the nucleus of a band sufficient for you to seize on Paso without striking a blow, as it is only defended by a garrison of forty soldiers. Does that plan suit you?"
"Yes; I will set about it at once. But my daughter?"
"I will take charge of her. You will also leave me your son, and I will convey them both to the hacienda. As for the other ladies, on reaching the town, they will merely go to their homes, which I fancy, presents no difficulty."
"None."
"Good! Then that is settled?"
"Perfectly."
"As for you, general, your men have been échelonned by my care in parties of ten and twenty along the Santa Fe road, up to two leagues of the city, so that you will only have to pick them up. In this way you will find yourself, within three hours, at the head of five hundred resolute and well-armed men."
"Why, Valentine, my friend," the general said laughingly, "do you know there is the stuff in you to make a partisan chief, and that I am almost jealous of you."
"Oh! that would be wrong, general: I assure you I am most disinterested in the affair."
"Well, my friend, I know it: you are a free desert hunter, caring very little for our paltry schemes."
"That is true; but I have vowed to Don Miguel and his family a friendship which will terminate with my life. I tremble for him and his children when I think of the numberless dangers that surround him, and I try to aid him as far as my experience and activity permit me. That is the secret of my conduct."
"This profession of faith was at least useless, my friend. I have known you too intimately and too long to doubt your intentions. Hence, you see, I place such confidence in you, that I accept your ideas without discussion, so convinced am I of the purity of your intentions."
"Thanks, Don Miguel; you have judged me correctly. Come, gentlemen, to horse, and start. We must separate here—you, Don Miguel, to proceed by the right-hand track to Paso; you, general, by the left hand one to Santa Fe; while I, with Don Pablo and his sister proceed straight on till we reach the Hacienda de la Noria."
"To horse, then!" the hacendero shouted resolutely; "And may God defend the right!"
"Yes," the general added; "for from this moment the revolution is commenced."
The three men returned to their friends. Don Miguel said a few words to his children, and in an instant the whole party were in the saddle.
"The die is cast!" Valentine exclaimed. "May Heaven keep you, gentlemen!"
"Forward!" Don Miguel commanded.
"Forward!" General Ibañez shouted, as he rushed in the opposite direction.
Valentine looked after his departing friends. Their black outlines were soon blended with the darkness, and then the footfalls of their horses died out in the night. Valentine gave a sigh and raised his head.
"God will protect them," he murmured; then turning to the two young people, "Come on, children," he said.
They started, and for some minutes kept silence. Valentine was too busy in thought to address his companions; and yet Doña Clara and Don Pablo, whose curiosity was excited to the highest pitch, were burning to question him. At length the girl, by whose side the hunter marched with that quick step which easily keeps up with a horse, bent down to him.
"My friend," she said to him in her soft voice, "what is taking place? Why has my father left us, instead of coming to his house?"
"Yes," Don Pablo added, "he seemed agitated when he parted from us. His voice was stern, his words sharp. What is happening, my friend? Why did not my father consent to my accompanying him?"
Valentine hesitated to answer.
"I implore you, my friend," Doña Clara continued, "do not leave us in this mortal anxiety. The announcement of a misfortune would certainly cause us less pain than the perplexity in which we are."
"Why force me to speak, my children?" the hunter answered in a saddened voice. "The secret you ask of me is not mine. If your father did not impart his plans to you, it was doubtless because weighty reasons oppose it. Do not force me to render you more sorrowful by telling you things you ought not to know."
"But I am not a child," Don Pablo exclaimed. "It seems tome that my father ought not to have thus held his confidence from me."
"Do not accuse your father, my friend," Valentine answered gravely: "probably he could not have acted otherwise."
"Valentine, Valentine! I will not accept those poor reasons," the young man urged. "In the name of our friendship I insist on your explaining yourself."
"Silence!" the hunter suddenly interrupted him. "I hear suspicious sounds around us."
The three travellers stopped and listened, but all was quiet. The hacienda was about five hundred yards at the most from the spot where they halted. Don Pablo and Doña Clara heard nothing, but Valentine made them a sign to remain quiet; then he dismounted and placed his ear to the ground.
"Follow me," he said. "Something is happening here which I cannot make out; but it alarms me."
The young people obeyed without hesitation; but they had only gone a few paces when Valentine stopped again.
"Are your weapons loaded?" he sharply asked Don Pablo.
"Yes."
"Good! Perhaps you will have to make use of them."
All at once the gallop of a horse urged to its utmost speed was audible.
"Attention!" Valentine muttered.
Still the horseman, whoever he might be, rapidly advanced in the direction of the travellers, and soon came up to them. Suddenly Valentine bounded like a panther, seized the horse by the bridle and stopped it dead.
"Who are you, and where are you going?" he shouted, as he put a pistol barrel against the stranger's chest.
"Heaven be praised!" the latter said, not replying to the question. "Perhaps I shall be able to save you. Fly, fly, in all haste!"
"Father Seraphin!" Valentine said with stupor, as he lowered his pistol. "What has happened?"
"Fly, fly!" the missionary repeated, who seemed a prey to the most profound terror.