THE MEETING.
On reaching a spot where the trail they were following formed a species of fork, Curumilla stopped, and the two gentlemen imitated him.
"That is your road," the Araucano chief said. "At the end of that path you will see Koutonepi's bivouac fire. I must leave you here."
After uttering these words, Curumilla turned his horse and started, after giving them a parting wave of the hand. The Unicorn was not much of a talker naturally; generally, he did more than he said. His friends, convinced that urgent necessity could alone have forced him thus to break through his habits, made no observation, but let him go. When they were alone, they gently relaxed the pace of their horses, and proceeded at a canter.
General Ibañez was radiant. He inhaled the fresh air Of the desert, which dilated his wide chest, revelling in his liberty. He thought of nothing but enjoying the present, regardless of the past, which, with his careless character, he had already forgotten, only to dream of the future, which he gazed on through a prism of brilliant hues. Don Miguel, on the contrary, felt, during the last few moments, a sad melancholy invade his mind. Not able to account for the emotion he experienced, he had a species of secret presentiment that a misfortune was suspended over his head. In vain did he try to dispel these ideas, but they constantly returned more obstinately than ever and it was with a sort of dread that he advanced in the direction where he was to meet Valentine, although he was his best friend, so much did he fear that he would greet his arrival with evil tidings.
The two gentlemen went on thus for nearly half an hour without exchanging a syllable; but, just as they turned a corner in the path, they saw a horseman about thirty paces in front of them, barring the road, and apparently waiting for them. The Mexicans examined him attentively. He was a tall man, well armed, and wearing the garb of the rich hacenderos; but, singularly enough, a black velvet mask prevented them distinguishing his features. By an instinctive movement Don Miguel and his friend moved a hand to their holsters, but they were empty.
"What is to be done?" the hacendero asked the general.
"Go on, of course. We have just escaped too great a peril for us to fear this. Even in the event of the mysterious being planted there before us, like an equestrian statue, trying to play us a trick, which is not impossible."
"Let us trust to Heaven," Don Miguel muttered, and pushed on.
The distance separating them from the stranger was soon cleared. On coming within five yards of him, they stopped.
"Santas tardes, caballeros," said the stranger, in a friendly voice.
"Santas tardes!" the gentlemen answered, in accord.
"I salute you, Don Miguel Zarate, and you, General Ibañez," the stranger then said. "I am happy to see you at length safe and sound out of the claws of that worthy General Ventura, who, if he could, would certainly have played you a trick."
"Caballero," Don Miguel made answer, "I thank you for the kind words you address to me, and which can only come from a friend's lips. I should be pleased if you would take off the mask that conceals your features, so that I may recognise you."
"Gentlemen, if I removed my mask you would be disappointed, for my features are unfamiliar to you. Do not be angry with me for keeping it on; but, be assured that you are not mistaken with regard to me, and I am really your friend."
The two Mexicans bowed courteously to each other, and the stranger went on.
"I knew that so soon as you were free you would hasten to join that worthy hunter Valentine, whom the trappers and gambusinos along the frontier have christened the 'Trail-hunter.' I placed myself here, where you must infallibly pass, in order to make you a communication of the utmost importance, which interests you extremely."
"I am listening, sir," Don Miguel responded with secret alarm; "and I beg you to accept, beforehand, my sincere thanks for the step you have taken on my behalf."
"You will thank me when the proper time comes, Don Miguel. Today I only warn you: at a later date I hope to aid you, and my help will not prove useless."
"Speak, sir! You excite my curiosity to the highest pitch, and I am anxious to learn the news of which you have condescended to be the bearer."
The stranger shook his head sadly, and there was a moment's silence. This meeting of three horsemen, one of whom was masked, in this deserted place, where no sound troubled the imposing silence of solitude, had something strange about it. At length the mask spoke again.
"Two months have elapsed, Don Miguel, since, through the treachery of Red Cedar, you were arrested and made prisoner at the Paso del Norte. Many events of which you are ignorant have occurred since then; but there is one I must inform you of at once. On the very night of your arrest, at the moment you laid down your arms, your daughter was carried off by Red Cedar."
"My daughter!" the hacendero exclaimed; "And Valentine to whom I confided her, and who was responsible for her safety?"
"Valentine attempted impossibilities to save her; but what can one man effect against twenty?"
Don Miguel shook his head mournfully.
"After researches, long, sterile, and extraordinary efforts, a man providentially aided by Father Seraphin, at length succeeded last night in taking Doña Clara from her ravishers; but Red Cedar, advised by some extraordinary chance, entered the house where the maiden had sought shelter, and carried her off again."
"Oh! I will avenge myself on that man!" the hacendero shouted, passionately.
The stranger's eyes flashed with a lurid light though the holes in his mask.
"You will find your son and Father Seraphin with Valentine. Red Cedar intends to start this evening at the head of a band of gambusinos, to go into the deserts of the Rio Gila in search of a placer, which his accomplice, Fray Ambrosio, had indicated to him."
"Fray Ambrosio!" the hacendero repeated, in stupor.
"Yes. Your former chaplain, who served as spy to the squatter, revealed your plans to him, and provided him the means to enter the hacienda and carry off your daughter."
"Good," Don Miguel said, in a hollow voice. "I will remember."
"Red Cedar, I know not with what design, is taking your daughter with him into the desert."
"I will follow him, were it for a thousand leagues," Don Miguel said, resolutely. "Thanks to you for having instructed me so fully. But whence comes the interest you take in me so gratuitously, since, as you say, I do not know you?"
"You shall learn at a later date, Don Miguel. Now, before I leave you, one last word—an earnest warning."
"I listen attentively, caballero."
"Do not tell anyone—not even the French hunter, not even your son—of our meeting. Let this secret be buried in your breast. When you reach the far west, if you see before you, at one of your bivouacs, a piece of mahogany bearing the impress of a horse's shoe, rise at midnight, and leave the camp, not letting anyone see you. When you have gone one hundred paces in the tall grass, whistle thrice; a similar whistle will answer you, and then you will learn many things important for you to know, but which I cannot tell you today."
"Good. Thanks. I will do what you tell me."
"You promised it?"
"I swear it on my word as a gentleman," Don Miguel said, as he took off his hat.
"I accept your oath. Farewell."
"Farewell."
The stranger dug his spurs into his horse's sides and the animal started off as if impelled by a tornado.
The two gentlemen looked after him for a long time, admiring the grace and ease of his movements; at length, when horse and rider had disappeared in the distance, Don Miguel went on again pensively, while saying to the general—
"Who can that man be?"
"I know no more than you do. Viva Cristo!" his friend answered, "but I assure you I will know, even if to do so I have to search all the thickets and caverns in the desert."
"What," Don Miguel exclaimed, "do you intend to come with me?"
"Did you ever doubt it, Don Miguel? If so, you insulted me. You will need all your friends to go in search of your daughter, and inflict on that demon of a gringo squatter the chastisement he deserves. No, no; I will not leave you under such circumstances, for that would be committing a bad action; besides, I shall not be sorry," he added with a smile, "to get out of the sight of the government for a time."
"My friend, I thank you," the hacendero said, as he took his hand. "I have long known that you were entirely devoted to me; I am pleased to receive this new proof of your friendship."
"And you accept it?" the general asked gaily.
"Most heartily; the help of an iron arm like yours must be most useful to me under the painful circumstances in which I am placed."
"That is settled, then; we will start together, Mil rayas! and I swear we will deliver Doña Clara."
"May Heaven grant it," the hacendero said, sadly.
The conversation then dropped, and the two friends proceeded in silence. A quarter of an hour later they reached the Trail-hunter's bivouac.