EL MAL PASO.
The hunters only spent one hour in going down, though it had cost them eight to ascend. Their bivouac was formed at the top of a scarped rock, in an impregnable position.
After their visit to the jacal, they were not long in finding traces of the fugitives, and followed them during four days. As these traces led to the Sierra de los Comanches, the hunters bravely entered the obscure mountain defiles, but all at once the trail disappeared as if by enchantment, and it was impossible to find it again.
The hunters' incessant search had only produced the disastrous result of losing themselves in the sierra, and in spite of all their efforts they could not discover the path leading to the right road. For two days their provisions had been completely exhausted, and they were beginning to feel the icy clutch of hunger.
The position was no longer tenable, and they must escape from it at all risks. Valentine and his companions had, therefore, in spite of their failing strength, climbed up the peak in order to look for a road. But this bold attempt had obtained two results instead of one, for Valentine not only declared he had found what he was seeking, but Curumilla had also procured food. Hence, the five men joyously returned to that camp, which they had quitted with death in their hearts.
No one, who has not been in a similar situation, can imagine the feeling of perfect happiness that seizes on a man when he passes, without any transition, from the extremest despair to the greatest confidence. So soon as they reached the encampment, Valentine rekindled the fire, which they had not lit for two days, as it was useless. Still, as the sight of the smoke would arouse Red Cedar's suspicions, if he were, as was very possible, in the vicinity, the hunters roasted their meat in a cavern opening in the side of the hill on which they encamped. When all was ready, they began eating.
It was only when their first hunger was appeased that they thought of thanking the Indian chief for the abundant meal he had procured them by his skill, and of which they had such pressing need. But then they perceived that the Araucano had not obtained the provisions they were eating without incurring serious danger; in fact, Curumilla had on his face, chest, and shoulders serious wounds, inflicted by the beaks and talons of the eagles, which must have boldly defended their provisions.
With the Indian stoicism which nothing can equal, Curumilla, perfectly calm and silent, was staunching the blood that poured from his wounds, disdaining to complain, but, on the contrary, appearing vexed at the anxiety his comrades evidenced.
When the meal was at an end, Valentine solemnly lit his pipe, the others did the same, and ere long they were almost hidden in a cloud.
"Caballeros," Valentine said presently, "God has come to our assistance, as He always does, when men have a firm faith in His omnipotence. He has deigned to supply us with the means to restore our strength, so we must not feel despondent; by this time tomorrow we shall have escaped from this unlucky trap. When you have finished smoking, lie down on the ground and sleep. I will awaken you when the time comes, for at the hour of departure you must feel ready to undertake a long journey. We have about four hours' daylight left, so profit by them, for I warn you we shall have plenty to do tonight in every way. Now that you are warned, you had better follow my advice."
And, adding example to precept, Valentine shook the ash from his pipe, returned it to his belt, lay down on the ground, and almost immediately slept. His comrades probably found the advice good, for they followed it without hesitation, and in ten minutes all were asleep excepting Curumilla.
How long their sleep had lasted when Valentine awakened them, they could not say, but the night had set in. The sky, studded with an infinity of stars, stretched out over their heads its dark blue vault: the moon appeared to be floating in a sea of mist, and spread over the landscape a melancholy light, which imparted a fantastic appearance to objects.
"Up with you," Valentine said in a low voice, as he tapped his comrades in turn on the shoulder.
"Are we off?" General Ibañez asked, as he checked a yawn, and drew himself up, as if worked by a spasm.
"Yes," was all the hunter answered.
Ere long all were ready to start.
"We must profit by the darkness," Valentine remarked, "our enemies are doubtless watching round us."
"We are at your orders, my friend," Don Miguel answered.
By a sign, the hunter collected his comrades round him.
"Listen to me carefully," he said, "for, before attempting the bold enterprise I have conceived, I wish to have your full consent. Our position is desperate: remaining longer here is death: death by hunger, cold, thirst, and wretchedness, after enduring intolerable sufferings for I know not how many days. You are quite convinced of this, I fancy?"
"Yes," they replied unanimously.
"Good," he continued; "trying longer to find the road we have lost would be a vain attempt, which would have no chance of success."
"Yes," they said again.
The hunter continued—
"Well, then, I am about to make an equally mad attempt at this moment. If it does not succeed, we shall perish; but at any rate we shall do so without suffering—almost instantaneously. If we succeed by a miracle—for it is almost a miracle I expect from the inexhaustible mercy of Heaven—we are saved. Reflect ere replying; my friends, are you firmly resolved to follow me, and obey me in all I order, without hesitation or murmuring? In a word, surrender your own will for a few hours only to follow me? Answer me."
The hunters exchanged a glance.
"Command, my friend," the hacendero said, answering for his comrades; "we swear to follow and obey you, whatever may happen."
There was a moment's silence, which Valentine was the first to break.
"Very good," he said, "I have your promise, and must now accomplish mine."
With a gesture of sublime dignity, the wood ranger took off his hat, and raised his eyes to Heaven.
"Oh Lord," he murmured, "our life is in thy hands: we confide in thy justice and mercy." Then, turning to his comrades, he said in a firm voice—
"Let us go!"
The hunters prepared to leave their camp, and Valentine placed himself at the head of the little band.
"And now," he added sharply, "the greatest silence."
The hunters advanced in Indian file, Valentine leading, Curumilla last. In this dark night it was certainly no easy task to proceed through this inextricable chaos of rocks, whose rude crests rose above immeasurable abysses, in the bottom of which an invisible stream could be heard indistinctly murmuring.
One false step was mortal; still, Valentine went on with as much assurance as if he were walking in the dazzling sunshine along the finest path of the prairie, turning to the right, then to the left, clambering up a rock, or gliding along an almost perpendicular wall, without once hesitating, or turning to his comrades, to whom he merely said at times in a low voice:
"Courage."
These four men must have been gifted with hearts of bronze, not to display some slight weakness during this rude journey, in regions which the eagle itself does not visit without hesitation. They marched thus for two hours, without exchanging a word; and after a long descent, during which they had twenty times run a risk of rolling to the bottom of a precipice, Valentine made his companions a sign to stop.
They then took an anxious glance around them: they found themselves on a platform of about ten square yards, all around being gloom, and it hung over an abyss of immeasurable depth. The mountain, cut asunder as if by Roland's sword, was separated, into two portions, between which was a yawning gulf about twelve or fifteen yards in width.
"We must pass over this," Valentine said; "you have ten minutes to draw breath and prepare."
"What, across here?" Don Miguel said in amazement: "why, I only see precipices on both sides."
"Well," the hunter replied, "we will cross it."
The hacendero shook his head despondingly, and Valentine smiled.
"Do you know where we are?" he asked.
"No," his comrades replied.
"I will tell you," he continued; "this spot is mournfully celebrated among the redskins and hunters of the prairie; perhaps you have heard its name mentioned, little suspecting that the day would come for you to be so near it: it is called El Mal Paso, owing to that enormous canyon which intersects the mountain, and suddenly intercepts a communication with the opposite side."
"Well?" Don Miguel asked.
"Well," Valentine went on, "some hours back, when from the top of the peak I watched the two travellers we saw at a distance on the Santa Fe road, my eye settled accidentally on the Mal Paso; then I understood that a chance of salvation was left us, and before confessing ourselves beaten, we must try to cross it."
"Then," Don Miguel said, with a shudder, "you are resolved to make this mad attempt?"
"I am."
"It is tempting Heaven."
"No, it is asking for a miracle, that is all. Believe me, my friend, God never abandons those who fully trust in Him. He will come to our help."
"Still," the hacendero began; but Valentine quickly interrupted him.
"Enough," he said; "you have sworn to obey me. I have sworn to save you; keep your oath as I shall mine."
His comrades, awed by Valentine, bowed their heads and made no reply.
"Brothers," the hunter said, solemnly, "let us pray that God will not desert us."
And, giving the example, he fell on his knees on the rock, his comrades imitating him. At the end of a moment, Valentine rose again.
"Have hope," he said.
The hunter then walked to the extremity of the platform and bent over the abyss, and his comrades followed his movements without comprehending them. After remaining motionless for some minutes, the hunter rejoined his friends.
"All goes well," he said.
He then unfastened his lasso from his belt, and coolly began rolling it round his right hand. Curumilla smiled; he had comprehended his meaning, and, according to his wont, without speaking, he unfastened his lasso and imitated his friend.
"Good," Valentine said to him, with a nod of approval; "it's our turn, chief."
The two wood rangers put forward their right legs, threw their bodies back to get a balance, and whirled their lassos round their heads; at an agreed-on signal, the lassos slipped from their hand and whizzed through the air. Valentine and Curumilla had held the end of the rope in their left hand; they pulled at them, but, in spite of all their efforts, the hunters could not unloose them. Valentine uttered a shout of joy, for he had succeeded; he connected the two lassos, twisted them round a rock; and fastened them securely, then he turned to his comrades.
"Here is a bridge," he said.
"Ah!" the Mexicans exclaimed, "now we are saved."
These men, with their hearts of bronze, who feared no danger, and recognised no obstacle, could speak thus, although the road was most perilous. Valentine and Curumilla had thrown their lassos round a rock that stood on the other side of the canyon, and the running knot had drawn. In this way the communication was established; but the bridge, as Valentine called it, merely consisted of two leathern cords of the thickness of a forefinger, stretched over a precipice of unknown depth, at least fifteen yards in width, and which must be crossed by the strength of the wrists.
Certainly, before crossing this strange bridge, there was matter for reflection, even to the bravest man. To go fifteen yards hanging thus by the arms over an abyss was not tempting this gloomy night, and upon a rope which might break or become unfastened. The hunters hesitated.
"Well;" Valentine said to them, "shall we be off?"
No one answered.
"That is true," the hunter said with a smile; "you wish to know if the bridge be firm. Very good."
Then with that calmness usual to him the hunter advanced to the edge of the barranca. On reaching the lasso, he took it in both hands, and turned to his comrades.
"Look," he said with that carelessness which he never could put off; "the sight costs nothing."
And gently, without hurrying, with the coolness of a professor giving a lesson, he crossed the canyon backwards, in order to show his friends how they were to manage. On reaching the opposite bank, where he left his rifle, he quietly returned to his friends—the latter had anxiously watched him, trembling involuntarily at the danger he had incurred.
"I hope," he said, when he remounted the platform, "that you are now quite sure the lasso is firm, and you will not hesitate."
Without replying, Curumilla crossed.
"There's one," Valentine said with a laugh; "there is no difficulty about it. Whose turn next?"
"Mine," Don Pablo answered.
He crossed.
"Now it is my turn," Don Miguel said.
"Go," Valentine replied.
The hacendero soon found himself on the opposite side; only two men remained, General Ibañez and the hunter.
"Come," Valentine said, "it is your turn, general; I must be the last to pass."
The general shook his head despondingly.
"I cannot," he said.