THE MYSTERY.
On leaving the Rancho del Coyote, Red Cedar dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and galloped in a south-western direction. So soon as he was out of the town he turned to the left, took a narrow path that ran round the walls, pulled up his horse, and advanced with the utmost caution. Throwing suspicious glances on either side, he went on thus for about three-quarters of an hour, when he reached a house, in one of the windows of which burned three wax tapers.
The lights thus arranged were evidently a signal for the squatter, for so soon as he came to the house he stopped and dismounted, attached his horse to a larch-tree, and prudently concealing himself behind a thicket, imitated thrice at equal intervals the hu-hu of an owl. The lights burning in the window were extinguished, as if by enchantment.
The night was gloomy, only a few stars studded the vault of heaven; a leaden silence brooded over the plain, which appeared quite solitary. At this moment a voice could be heard from the house which Red Cedar was watching so carefully. The squatter listened; the speaker leaned for a second out of the window looked cautiously round, and disappeared muttering loud enough for the American to overhear—
"All is quiet in the neighbourhood."
"Still," the squatter said, without showing himself, "the coyotes prowl about the plain."
"Are you coming or going?" the man at the window continued.
"Both," the squatter answered, still hidden behind his bush.
"You can come on, for you are expected."
"I know it; hence here I am."
While making this answer, the squatter left his hiding place, and placed himself before the door with folded arms, like a man who has nothing to fear.
The door was cautiously opened; a man emerged, carefully wrapped up in, a wide cloak, which only allowed eyes to be seen, that flashed in the gloom like a jackal's. This person walked straight up to Red Cedar.
"Well," he asked, in a low voice, "have you reflected?"
"Yes."
"And what is the result of your reflections?"
"I refuse."
"Still?"
"More than ever."
"Take care."
"I do not care, Don Melchior, for I am not afraid of you."
"No names!" the stranger exclaimed, impatiently.
"We are alone."
"No one is ever alone in the desert."
"That is true," Red Cedar muttered. "Let us return to our business."
"It is simple—give and give."
"Hum! You get to work very fast; unfortunately it cannot be so."
"Why not?"
"Why, because I am growing tired of constantly taking in my nets game by which others profit, and which I ought to keep as a safeguard."
"You call that girl a guarantee?"
"By Heaven! what else do you mean to make of her?"
"Do not compare me with you, scoundrel!"
"Where is the difference between us? I am a scoundrel, I grant; but, by heaven, you are another, my master, however powerful you may be."
"Listen, caballero!" the stranger answered, in a cutting voice. "I will lose no more of my time in discoursing with you. I want that girl, and will have her, whatever you may do to prevent me."
"Good; in that case you declare war against me?" the squatter said, with a certain tinge of alarm, which he tried in vain to conceal.
The stranger shrugged his shoulders.
"We have known one another long enough to be perfectly well acquainted; we can only be friends or foes. Is not that your opinion?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, hand Doña Clara over to me, and I will give you the papers which—"
"Enough!" the squatter said, sharply. "Have you those papers about you?"
The stranger burst into a laugh.
"Do you take me for such a fool?" he said.
"I do not understand you."
"I will not insult you by believing you. No, I have not those papers about me. I am not such an ass as to risk assassination at your hands."
"What would your death profit me?"
"Hang it all! If it were only my scalp you would be sure to receive at least fifty dollars for it."
At this mournful jest the squatter began laughing.
"I did not think of that," he said,
"Listen to me, Red Cedar, and print the words on your memory."
"Speak."
"In a month from today, hour for hour, day for day, wherever you may be, I shall present myself to you."
"For what purpose?' the squatter asked impudently.
"To repeat my demand with reference to the prisoner."
"Then, as now, I shall reply No, my master."
"Perhaps so. Live and learn. Now good-bye, and may the devil, your patron saint, preserve you in good health until our next meeting. You know that I have you tight; so consider yourself warned."
"Good, good! Threats do not frighten me. Demonios, since I have been traversing the desert, I have found myself opposed to enemies quite as dangerous as you, and yet I managed to get quit of them."
"That is possible, Red Cedar; but believe me, meditate carefully on my words."
"I repeat that your threats do not frighten me."
"I do not threaten, I warn you."
"Hum! Well, then, listen in your turn. In the desert, every man armed with a good rifle has nothing to fear from whomsoever."
"What next?" the stranger interrupted him, in a sarcastic voice.
"Well, my rifle is excellent, I have a sure aim, and I say no more."
"Nonsense, you are mad! I defy you to kill me!"
"Hang it, though, what can be your motive for wishing to have this girl in your power?"
"That is no affair of yours. I have no explanations due to you. Enough for you to know that I want her."
"You shall not have her."
"We shall see. Good-bye, Red Cedar."
"Good-bye, Don Melchior, or whatever be the name you please to bear."
The stranger made no reply, but turned his head with a gesture of contempt, and whistled. A man emerged from the house, holding a horse by the bridle; at one bound the stranger reached the saddle, and ordered the servant to withdraw.
"Farewell, Compadre, remember our appointment."
And loosing his reins, the stranger started at a gallop, not condescending even to turn his head. Red Cedar looked after him with an indescribable expression of rage.
"Oh," he muttered in a low voice, "demon! Shall I never free myself from your clutches?"
And with a motion rapid as thought he shouldered his rifle, and aimed at the departing man. All at once the latter turned his horse, and stood right opposite Red Cedar.
"Mind not to miss me!" he cried, with a burst of laughter that caused a cold perspiration to bead on the bandit's forehead.
The latter let his rifle fall, saying in a hollow voice: "He is right, and I am mad! If I only had the papers!"
The stranger waited for a moment calm and motionless; then he started again and soon disappeared in the darkness. Red Cedar stood with his body bowed forward, and his ears on the watch, so long as the horse's hoofs could be heard; then he returned to his own steed, and bounded into the saddle.
"Now to go and warn the dragoons," he said, and pushed on.
The squatter had scarce departed ere several men appeared from either side; they were Valentine, Curumilla, and Don Pablo on the right; Unicorn and Eagle-wing on the left. Valentine and his friends were astonished at meeting the Comanche chief, whom they believed gone back to his camp; but the sachem explained to them, in a few words, how, at the moment he was crossing the spot where they now were, he had heard Red Cedar's voice, and concealed himself in the shrubs in order to overhear the squatter's colloquy with his strange friend. Valentine had done the same; but, unfortunately, the party had been greatly disappointed, for the squatter's conversation remained to them an enigma, of which they sought the key in vain.
"'Tis strange," Valentine remarked, as he passed his hand several times across his forehead. "I do not know where I have seen the man just now talking here with Red Cedar, but I have a vague reminiscence of having met him before, where and under what circumstance I try, though in vain, to recall."
"What shall we do?" Don Pablo asked.
"Hang it, what we agreed on;" and turning to the chief, he said, "Good luck, brother, I believe we shall save our friend."
"I am sure of it," the Indian replied, laconically.
"May heaven hear you, brother," Valentine continued. "Act! While, on your side, you watch the town for fear of treason. We then will ambush ourselves on the road the gambusinos must take, in order to know positively the direction in which they are proceeding. Till tomorrow, chief!"
"Stop!" a panting voice exclaimed, and a man suddenly appeared in the midst of them.
"Father Seraphin!" Valentine said in a surprise. "What chance brings you this way?"
"I was looking for you."
"What do you want with me?"
"To give you some good news."
"Speak! Speak quickly, father! Has Don Miguel left his prison?"
"Alas! Not yet; but his daughter is free!"
"Doña Clara free!" Valentine shouted joyously. "Heaven be blessed! Where is she?"
"She is temporarily in safety, be assured of that; but let me give you a warning, which may perhaps prove useful to you."
"Speak! Speak!"
"By order of the governor, Red Cedar has gone to meet the regiment of dragoons, coming up to reinforce the Santa Fe garrison."
"Caramba," Valentine said, "are you sure of your statement, father?"
"I am: in my presence, the men who carried off Doña Clara spoke about it."
"All is lost if these soldiers arrive."
"Yes," the missionary said; "but, how to prevent it?"
Curumilla lightly touched the leader's arm.
"What do you want, chief!"
"The Comanches are warriors," Curumilla answered, curtly.
"Ah!" Valentine exclaimed, and tapping his forehead with delight, "that is true, chief; you save us."
Curumilla smiled with pleasure.
"While you go in pursuit of the soldiers," said Don Pablo, "as I can be of no service to you, I will accompany Father Seraphin to my poor sister, whom I have not seen so long, and am eager to embrace."
"Do so," Valentine answered. "At daybreak you will bring Doña Clara to the camp, that I may myself deliver her to her father."
"That is agreed."
Valentine, Curumilla, and Unicorn rushed out in the plain, while Father Seraphin and Don Pablo returned to the town. The two gentlemen, anxious to join the girl, did not perceive that they were closely watched by an individual, who followed their every movement, while careful not to be seen by them. It was Nathan, Red Cedar's eldest son.
How was that man there?