CURUMILLA.
About a month after the events we have just described, in the early part of December, which the Comanches call, in their picturesque language, "the Moon of the roebuck that sheds its horns," and a few minutes after sunrise, a party, consisting of five or six men, whom, by their garb, it was easy to recognise as wood rangers from the Far West, climbed one of the highest peaks of the Sierra de los Comanches, the eastern chain of the Rocky Mountains, running down into Texas, where it terminates in the Guadaloupe mountains.
The weather was cold, and a dense layer of snow covered the sides of the mountains. The slope which these bold adventurers were following, was so scarped that, although accustomed to travel in these regions, they were often compelled to bend their backs and creep along on their hands and knees. But no difficulty baffled them, no obstacle was great enough to make them turn back.
At times, worn out with fatigue, and bathed in perspiration, they stopped to take breath, lay down on the snow, and picked up some handfuls to allay the ardent thirst that devoured them; then, after resting a little while, they courageously set out again, and clambered up the eternal ice, whose gigantic masses became with each moment more abrupt.
Were these men in search of a practicable road in this frightful labyrinth of mountains, whose peaks rose around them, at an immense height, in the icy regions of the sky? Perhaps, however, they wished, for reasons known to themselves alone, to gain a spot whence they could have an extensive prospect.
If such were their hope, it was not deceived. When, after incessant toil they all at last reached the summit of the peak they were scaling, they suddenly had before them a landscape, whose grand appearance amazed and startled them through its sublime immensity. In whatever direction they looked, they were confounded by the majesty of the panorama unfolded at their feet.
In truth, the Rocky Mountains are unique in the world, bearing no resemblance with the Pyrenees, Alps, and Apennines, and those magnificent chains of mountains which here and there stride across the old world, and seem with their barren crest to protest against the pride of creatures, in the name of the Creator.
The hunters were hanging, as it were, over a world. Beneath them was the Sierra de los Comanches, an immense mountain broken up into snowy peaks, displaying all their gloomy caverns, deep and awe-inspiring valleys, their brilliant lakes, their dark defiles and their foaming torrents, which bounded noisily downward; then, far beyond these savage limits, the eye was lost in an unbounded landscape, bathed in a hazy distance, like the surface of the sea in calm weather.
Owing to the purity and transparency of the atmosphere, the adventurers distinguished the smallest objects at a surprising distance. However, in all probability, these men had not undertaken so perilous an ascent through motives of curiosity. The mode in which they examined the country and analysed the immense panorama unrolled before them, proved, on the contrary, that very serious reasons had urged them to brave the almost insurmountable difficulties they had overcome, in order to reach the point where they were.
The group formed by these men with their bronzed faces, energetic features and picturesque garb, as they leant on their rifles, with eyes fixed on space and frowning brow, had something grand about it; at this extraordinary elevation, at the summit of the peak covered with eternal snow, which served them as a pedestal in the midst of the chaos that surrounded them.
For a long time they remained there without speaking, trying to distinguish in the windings of the quebradas the slightest break of the ground, deaf to the mournful growling of the torrents that leaped at their feet, and the sinister rolling of the avalanches, which glided down the mountain side, and fell with a crash into the valleys, dragging trees and rocks with them.
At length the man who appeared the leader of the party passed his hand over his brow, damp with exertion, though the cold was intense in these regions, and turned to his companions to say, "My friends, we are now twenty thousand feet above the level of the plain, that is to say, we have reached the spot where the Indian warrior sees for the first time after death the country of souls, and contemplates the happy hunting grounds, the brilliant abode of just, free, and generous warriors. The eagle alone could rise higher than ourselves."
"Yes," one of his comrades replied, with a shake of head; "but, though I keep looking around, I see no possibility of getting out."
"Hilloh, General!" the first speaker interposed, "What is that you are saying? We might fancy, which Heaven forbid, that you were despairing."
"Well," the other, who was General Ibañez, replied, "that supposition would not be without a certain degree of correctness; listen to me, Don Valentine; for ten days we have been lost on these confounded mountains, surrounded by ice, and snow, and with nothing to eat, under the pretext of finding the hiding place of that old villain Red Cedar, and I do not mind confessing to you, that I am beginning, not to despair, but to believe that, unless a miracle happen, it will be impossible for us to get out of this inextricable chaos in which we are enclosed."
Valentine shook his head several times. The five men standing on the peak were really the Trail-hunter and his friends.
"No matter," General Ibañez continued, "you will agree with me that our position, far from improving, is growing with each moment more difficult; for two days we have been completely out of provisions, and I do not see how we shall procure any in these icy regions. Red Cedar has tricked us with that diabolical cunning which never fails him, he has led us into a trap we cannot get out of, and where we shall find death."
There was a mournful silence. The despair of these energetic men, coldly calculating, amid the steep, northerly country that surrounded them, the few hours of existence still left them, had something crushing about it. Scarce able to stand, more like corpses than men, with haggard features and eyes reddened with fever, they stood calm and resigned, gazing on the magnificent plains stretching out at their feet, on which thousands of animals sported and covered everywhere with trees, whose fruit would so quickly have checked their hunger.
But between them and these plains stood an insurmountable barrier, which neither strength nor cunning could carry: all that was humanly possible, these men had done during the last two days to save themselves. All their plans had been foiled by a strange fatality, which made them constantly go round in a circle among these mountains, which are so like each other, and all their attempts had broken down.
"Pardon me, my friends," Don Miguel de Zarate said, with a crushing accent of sorrow, "pardon me, for I alone am the cause of your death."
"Speak not so, Don Miguel," Valentine quickly exclaimed, "all is not lost, yet."
A heart-rending smile played round the hacendero's lips.
"You are ever the same, Don Valentine," he said; "good, and generous, forgetting yourself for your friends. Alas! Had we followed your advice, we should not be dying of famine and misery in these desolate mountains."
"That will do," the hunter said, gruffly; "what is done cannot be undone; perhaps it would have been better had you listened to me some days back, I grant; but of what use is recrimination now? Let us rather seek the means to get out of this."
"It is impossible," Don Miguel continued, disconsolately, and letting his head fall in his hands, he gave way to sad reflections.
"Caray!" the hunter exclaimed, energetically, "Impossible is a word we Frenchmen have erased from our dictionary. Hang it! As long as the heart beats, there is hope. Were Red Cedar more cunning than he is, which would be most difficult, I swear you that we shall find him, and get out of this hobble."
"But how?" Don Pablo eagerly asked.
"I do not know; still I am certain we shall escape."
"Ah, if we were only by the side of those two horsemen," the general said, with a sigh, "we should be saved."
"What horsemen do you allude to, general I where do you see them?" the hunter asked.
"There," he replied, "near the clump of cork trees. Do you see them?"
"Oh," said Valentine, "they are riding quietly, like men who know they are on the right road, and have nothing to fear."
"They are very lucky," the general muttered.
"Bah! Who knows what awaits them on turning from the road they are now following so peacefully?" the hunter remarked, with a smile; "No one can answer for the next minute; they are on the road from Independence to Santa Fe."
"Hum! I should like to be there too," the general growled between his teeth.
Valentine, who first looked carelessly at the horsemen, now followed them with interest, almost with anxiety; but they soon disappeared in a bend of a road. For a long time, however, the hunter remained with his eyes fixed on the spot where he had first seen them; gradually he began frowning, a deep wrinkle was hollowed on his forehead, and he leaned on his rifle, motionless and dumb, but seeming to be suffering from great agitation. Involuntarily, his comrades followed with growing interest the current of his thoughts, which could be read, as it were, on their companion's brow. He remained for some time thus absorbed, but at length he raised his head, and looked around with a bright and intrepid glance.
"My friends," he said, joyously, as he struck the butt of his rifle on the ground, "regain courage, I believe I have found the way of getting safe and sound out of the wasp nest into which we have thrust our heads."
His comrades gave vent to a sigh of relief, almost of joy. They knew the hunter, they were aware how fertile the mind of this brave and devoted man was in expedients, and how inaccessible to despondency; they put entire faith in him. Valentine told them he believed he could save them; they did not suspect what means he would employ, but that was his business, not theirs. Now they were calm, for they had his word, which he had never been known to break; they had only to wait patiently till the hour for their deliverance arrived.
"Bah!" the general answered, gaily, "I was sure we should get out of this, my friend."
"When shall we start?" Don Pablo asked.
"As soon as it is night," Valentine replied; "but where is Curumilla?"
"On my word I do not know. I saw him about half an hour ago, gliding along the mountain side, as if he had suddenly gone mad; but I have not seen him since."
"Curumilla does nothing without a reason," the hunter said with a shake of the head; "you will soon see him return."
Indeed, the hunter had scarce finished speaking, when the Indian chief shewed his head level with the platform, and with one leap he rejoined his friends. His zarapé, knotted at the four corners, hung behind his back.
"What have you there, chief?" Valentine asked, with a smile: "Can it be food?"
"Cuerpo de Cristo!" the general exclaimed, "it would be welcome, for I have a wolf's appetite."
"Where could provisions be found in this fearful region?" Don Pablo exclaimed, in a hollow voice.
"My brothers will see," the chief simply answered.
And he threw his zarapé on the snow, where Valentine undone the knots. The hunters uttered a cry of joy, for it contained a hare, a young peccary, and several birds. These provisions, arriving so opportunely, when the hunters had been fasting for nearly forty-eight hours, seemed to them the result of magic.
To understand the emotion the four men experienced at the sight of the much-desired food, a man must have himself gone through all the agony of hunger, without any hope of stilling it—it was almost frenzy. When the first impression was slightly calmed, Valentine turned to the chief, and pressed his hand tenderly, as a tear rolled down his cheek.
"My brother is a great sorcerer," he said to him.
The Ulmen smiled softly, and stretched out his arm to an eagle flying a short distance from the spot where the hunters stood.
"We shared," he said.
Valentine could not restrain a cry of admiration, for all was explained to him. The Araucano, whom nothing escaped, had seen the eagle, guessed that it had a brood, and clambered up to its nest to procure a portion of their food, while on the summit of the peak his comrades were all but yielding to their despair.
"Oh!" Valentine said joyfully, "We are saved, since we shall regain that strength we so much need to carry out the plan we have formed. Follow me, we will return to the camp, gaily eat the dinner the eagles have supplied us with, and start this evening."
Comforted by these words, the hunters followed him, and the little party went lightly down the mountain, up which they had clambered in the morning with such difficulty and despair in their hearts.