BLOODSON.
White Gazelle had rejoined Bloodson, who was encamped with his band on the top of a hill, where the prairie could be surveyed for a long distance. It was night, the fires were already lit, and the rangers, assembled around the braseros, were supping gaily. Bloodson was delighted at seeing his niece again; both had a long conversation, at the end of which the Avenger, as he called himself, ordered the ranchero to approach.
Despite of all his impudence, it was not without a feeling of terror that worthy Andrés Garote found himself face to face with this man, whose glances seemed trying to read his inmost thoughts. Bloodson's reputation had been so long established on the prairies that the ranchero must feel affected in his presence. Bloodson was seated in front of a fire, smoking an Indian pipe, with White Gazelle by his side; and for a moment the ranchero almost repented the step he had taken. But the feeling did not last an instant; hatred immediately regained the upper hand, and every trace of emotion disappeared from his face.
"Come here, scoundrel," Bloodson said to him. "From what the señora has just said to me, you fancy you have in your hands the means of destroying Red Cedar?"
"Did I say Red Cedar?" the ranchero answered; "I do not think so, excellency."
"Whom did you allude to, then?"
"To Fray Ambrosio."
"What do I care for that scurvy monk?" Bloodson remarked, with a shrug of his shoulders; "his affairs do not concern me, and I will not trouble myself with them; other and more important duties claim my care."
"That is possible, Excellency," the ranchero answered, with more assurance than might have been assumed; "but I have only to deal with Fray Ambrosio."
"In that case you can go to the deuce, for I shall certainly not help you in your plans."
Andrés Garote, thus brutally received, was not discouraged, however; he shrugged his shoulders with a cunning look, and assumed his most insinuating tone.
"There is no knowing, Excellency," he said.
"Hum! That seems to me difficult."
"Less so than you fancy, Excellency."
"How so?"
"You bear a grudge against Red Cedar, I think?"
"How does that concern you, scoundrel?" Bloodson asked, roughly.
"Not at all; the more so as I owe him nothing; still, it is a different affair with you, Excellency."
"How do you know?"
"I presume so, Excellency; hence I intend to offer you a bargain."
"A bargain!" Bloodson repeated, disdainfully.
"Yes, Excellency," the ranchero said, boldly; "and a bargain advantageous to yourself, I venture to say."
"And for you?"
"For me too, naturally."
Bloodson began laughing.
"The man is mad," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders, and, turning to his men, added—"where the deuce was your head when you brought him to me?"
"Nonsense," White Gazelle said, "you had better listen to him; that will do you no harm."
"The señora is right," the ranchero eagerly replied; "listen to me, Excellency, that pledges you to nothing; besides, you will be always able to decline if what I propose does not suit you."
"That is true," Bloodson replied, contemptuously—"Speak then, picaro, and be brief."
"Oh, I am not in the habit of making long speeches."
"Come to the point."
"It is this," the ranchero said, boldly; "you wish, I do not know why, and do not care, to revenge yourself on Red Cedar; for certain reasons, unnecessary for me to tell you, I wish to avenge myself on Ambrosio; that is clear, I fancy?"
"Perfectly so—go on."
"Very well. Now this is what I propose to you—aid me to avenge myself on the monk, and I will help you with the bandit."
"I do not need you for that."
"Perhaps you do, Excellency; and if I did not fear appearing impudent to you, I would even say—"
"What?"
"That I am indispensable to you."
"Voto a Dios!" Bloodson said, with an outburst of laughter, "This is beyond a joke; the scoundrel is absolutely making fun of me."
Andrés Garote stood unmoved before the ranger.
"Come, come," the latter continued, "this is far more amusing than I at first fancied; and how are you indispensable to me?"
"Oh, Excellency, that is very simple; you do not know what has become of Red Cedar?"
"That is true; I have been seeking him in vain for a long time."
"I defy you to find him, unless I help you."
"Then you know where he is?" Bloodson exclaimed, suddenly raising his head.
"Ah! That interests you now, Excellency," the ranchero said, with a crafty look.
"Answer, yes or no," the ranger said, roughly; "do you know where he is?"
"If I did not, should I have come to you?"
Bloodson reflected for a moment.
"Tell me where he is."
"Our bargain holds good?"
"It does."
"You swear it?"
"On my honour."
"Good!" the other said joyfully; "now listen to me."
"Go on."
"Of course you are aware that Red Cedar and the Trail-hunter had a fight?"
"I am—go on."
"After the battle, all bolted in different directions; Red Cedar was wounded, hence he did not go far, but soon fell in a fainting fit at the foot of a tree. The Frenchman and his friends sought him on all sides, and I believe they would have made him spend a very unpleasant quarter of an hour if they had laid hands on him. Fortunately for him, his horse had carried him into the middle of the virgin forest, where no one dreamed of pursuing him. Chance, or rather my good fortune, I now believe, led me to the spot where he was; his daughter Ellen was near him, and paying him the most touching attention; it really almost affected me. I cannot tell you how she got there, but there she was. On seeing Red Cedar, I thought for a moment about going to find the French hunter, and telling him of my discovery."
"Hum! And why did you not carry out that idea, scoundrel?"
"For a very simple, though conclusive reason."
"Let us hear it," said Bloodson, who had begun to listen with extreme interest to the ranchero's wandering statement.
"This is it," he went on. "Don Valentine is a rough fellow; I am not in the odour of sanctity with him; besides, he was with a crowd of Apaches and Comanches, each a bigger scamp than the other; in a word, I was frightened for my scalp, and held off, as I might have plucked the chestnuts from the fire for another man's profit."
"Not badly reasoned."
"Was it now, Excellency? hence, while I was reflecting on what I had better do, a band of some ten horsemen came, I know not whence, to the spot where that poor devil of a Red Cedar was lying half dead."
"He was really wounded?"
"Oh, yes, and dangerously, I undertake to say; the leader of the party was a French missionary you must know."
"Father Seraphin?"
"The very man."
"What did he?"
"What I should certainly not have done in his place—he carried Red Cedar away with him."
"In that I recognise him," Bloodson could not refrain from saying. "And where did he take the wounded man?"
"To a cavern, where I will lead you whenever you like."
"You are not lying?"
"Oh, no, Excellency."
"Very good, go and sleep; you can count on my promise, if you are faithful to me."
"Thanks, Excellency; be at your ease, self-interest urges me not to deceive you."
"That is true."
The ranchero withdrew, and an hour later was sleeping as every honest man should do, who feels conscious of having performed his duty. The next morning at daybreak Bloodson's band set out. But in the desert it is often very difficult to find those you seek, owing to the nomadic life everybody is obliged to lead in order to gain his livelihood; and Bloodson, who wished first to consult with Valentine and his friends, lost much time before learning the exact spot where they were. At length, one of the scouts told him that the Frenchman was at Unicorn's winter village, and he proceeded there at once.
In the interim, Bloodson ordered Andrés Garote to watch Red Cedar's movements, as he did not like to take a decisive step till he had acquired a certainty. Nothing would have been easier than to go to Father Seraphin, and demand the surrender of the wounded man; but he felt a repugnance to this. Bloodson shared in the respect the holy missionary inspired all within the Far West; and he would not have dared to summon him to surrender his guest, certain as he was beforehand that the other would peremptorily refuse; at the same time he did not like to employ violence to wrest his prey from a man whose character he admired. He must, therefore, await until Red Cedar, cured of his wounds, quitted his protection; and this Bloodson did, though having his movements watched.
At length Andrés Garote appeared, all joyous, in Bloodson's camp; he was the bearer of excellent news: Father Seraphin, after curing Red Cedar, had installed him in a jacal, where he and his daughter lived like two anchorites. Bloodson uttered a shout of joy at this news. Without even taking time to reflect, he leaped on his horse, leaving the temporary command of the band to his men, and started off at full speed for Unicorn's village.
The distance was not great, and the ranger covered it in less than two hours. Bloodson was beloved by the Comanches, to whom he had frequent opportunities of being useful; hence he was received by them with all the honours and ceremonies employed in such cases. Unicorn, accompanied by some of the principal chiefs of the tribe, came to receive him a short distance from the village, yelling, firing their muskets, and making their horses curvet. Bloodson gladly yielded to the chief's wishes, and galloped along by his side.
The Comanches are excessively discreet; they never take the liberty of asking questions of their guests before the latter authorise them. So soon as Bloodson had taken his seat by the fire of the council lodge, and smoked the great calumet of peace, Unicorn bowed to him gravely, and took the word.
"My paleface brother is welcome among his red friends," he said; "has my brother had a good hunt?"
"The buffaloes are numerous near the mountains," Bloodson answered; "my young men have killed many."
"All the better; my brother will not suffer from famine."
The ranger bowed his thanks.
"Will my brother remain some days with his red friends?" the chief again asked; "they would be happy to have him among them for a season."
"My hours are counted," Bloodson answered. "I merely intended paying a visit to my brothers to ask after their fare, as I passed their village."
At this moment Valentine appeared in the doorway.
"Here is my brother, Koutonepi," Unicorn said.
"He is welcome," the ranger said; "I wished to see him."
"What accident has brought you here?" the hunter asked him.
"To tell you where Red Cedar is hidden at this moment," Bloodson answered, distinctly.
Valentine started; and bent on him a piercing glance.
"Oh, oh," he said, "that is great news you give me."
"I do not give it, but sell it to you."
"What? explain yourself, pray."
"I will be brief. There is not a man on the prairies who has not a terrible account to settle with that vile bandit?"
"That is true."
"The monster has burdened the earth too long—he must disappear."
Bloodson uttered these words with such an accent of hatred, that all present, although they were men endowed with nerves of steel, felt a shudder course through their veins. Valentine looked sternly at the ranger.
"You owe this man a heavy grudge?" he said.
"Greater than I can express."
"Good, go on."
At this moment Father Seraphin entered the lodge, but was not noticed, so greatly was the attention of the audience concentrated on Bloodson. The missionary stood motionless in the darkest corner, and listened.
"This is what I propose," Bloodson went on. "I will reveal to you where the villain is lurking; we will spread so as to envelope him in an impassable circle, and if you or the chiefs here present are luckier than I, and seize him, you will deliver him into my hands."
"What to do with him?"
"To take an exemplary vengeance on him."
"I cannot promise that," Valentine said slowly.
"For what reason?"
"You have just given it: there is not a man on the prairie but has a terrible account to settle with this villain."
"Well?"
"The man he has most outraged is, in my opinion, Don Miguel de Zarate, whose daughter he so basely murdered. Don Miguel alone has the right to deal with him as he thinks proper."
Bloodson gave a start of disappointment.
"Oh, were he here!" he exclaimed.
"Here I am, sir," the hacendero replied as he stepped forward; "I too have vengeance to take on Red Cedar; but I wish it to be great and noble, in the light of the sun, and the presence of all: I do not wish to assassinate, but to punish him."
"Good," Bloodson exclaimed, stifling a cry of joy; "our thoughts are the same, caballero; for what I desire is to deal with Red Cedar, according to Lynch Law, in its entire rigour, on the very spot where he committed his first crime, and in the sight of the population he has horrified. In the Far West, I am not only called the Son of Blood, but also the Avenger and the judge."
After these words, spoken with feverish energy, there was a gloomy silence which lasted some time.
"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," a voice said, which made the hearers start.
All turned round; Father Seraphin, with his crucifix in his hand, and head erect, seemed to command them all by the grandeur of his evangelic mission.
"By what right do you make yourselves the instruments of divine justice?" he continued. "If this man was guilty, who tells that repentance has not come at this hour to wash the stains from his soul?"
"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth," Bloodson muttered in a hoarse voice.
These words broke the charm that enchained the audience.
"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth," they exclaimed wrathfully.
Father Seraphin saw he was conquered: he understood that all reasoning would fail with these blood-thirsty men, to whom the life of their fellow men is nothing, and who rank vengeance as a virtue.
"Farewell," he said in mournful voice; "farewell, poor misguided men. I dare not curse you, I can only pity you; but I warn you that I will do all in my power to save the victim you wish to immolate to your odious passions."
And he went out of the lodge.
When the emotion caused by the priest's words had calmed down, Don Miguel walked up to Bloodson, and laid his hand on the one the ranger offered to him.
"I accept Lynch Law," he said.
"Yes," all present shouted, "Lynch Law."
A few hours later, Bloodson regained his camp, and it was after this interview that Valentine had the conversation with Don Pablo, as he returned from Red Cedar's jacal, which we described at the beginning of the volume.