SMOKE IN THE MOUNTAIN.
The three adventurers rapidly left Bloodson's camp, and proceeded in the direction of the mountains, galloping silently side by side. They had a foreboding that the finale of this terrible drama was approaching, and involuntarily their thoughts were sad.
Man is so constituted that the feeling which has most power over him is sadness; human organisation is formed for struggling, and joy is only an anomaly; built to resist the hardest trials, the strongest man is frequently the one who yields most easily to great joy; hence, strange to say nothing more resembles happiness than sorrow; the symptoms are so completely the same, that a great joy annihilates the faculties almost as much as a great sorrow does.
At this moment, the three persons we are following were under the weight of an emotion such as we have described. At the instant when they expected the hopes they had so long entertained would be fulfilled, they felt an emotion which completely mastered them, and for which they could not account. They were about to play for a decisive stake. Ever since they had been contending with this rude adversary, they had ever found him standing in the track, returning them trick for trick, and although cruelly wounded, constantly retaining the victory. This time luck had turned; Heaven itself seemed to have interposed to make justice triumph, and the bandit, driven to his last entrenchments, was expecting them to be forced at any moment.
Still they did not conceal from themselves the difficulties of this final struggle, in which the squatter would escape the fate reserved him by death, unless they managed to deceive him by trickery. In such a state of mind, we may easily suppose that they said nothing, and reached the foot of the mountain without exchanging a syllable. Here they stopped.
"Caballeros," the gambusino said, "before going further, we shall not do badly, I fancy, by making some indispensable arrangements."
"What do you mean, my friend?" Don Pablo asked.
"We are going to enter regions," Andrés replied, "where our horses will become more injurious than useful; in the mountains a footman passes anywhere, a horseman nowhere."
"That is true; let us leave our horses here, then; the noble brutes will not stray beyond the spot where they can find provender. When we require them; we shall be sure to find them again, with a little search."
"Is that the señorita's opinion also?" the gambusino asked respectfully.
"Quite," she answered.
"Then let us dismount, remove saddle and bridle, and leave them to their instinct."
They removed everything that could trouble the horses, and then drove them away. The intelligent animals, accustomed to this, only went a few yards, and began quietly nibbling the thick prairie grass.
"That is all right," the gambusino said; "now let us think of ourselves."
"But the harness," White Gazelle remarked; "the moment will come when we shall be glad to have it ready to hand."
"Perfectly true," said Andrés; "so we will put it in a safe place; for instance, this hollow tree will form a famous storeroom."
"Caramba! that is an original idea," Don Pablo said, "and deserves being followed."
The three saddles were placed in the tree, and so covered with dead leaves, that it would be impossible to suspect their presence.
"Now," said White Gazelle, "let us look after a place to bivouac: the nights are cold at this season, especially in the mountains; day is rapidly departing, and we shall soon be in darkness."
Our three scouts had left the camp at a rather late hour: hence, while they were unsaddling their horses, and hiding the harness, the sun had gradually sunk down beneath the horizon: the short period of twilight had begun, during which day finishes, and night begins, in which darkness and light, struggling desperately together, spread over the landscape a mixed haze, through which objects are regarded as through a prism.
They must profit by this moment to look about them, so that they might run no risk of losing themselves so soon as darkness had gained the victory. They did so, therefore: after carefully noting the position of the different peaks, they boldly set out. They walked for nearly an hour up an ascent constantly becoming steeper, and then reached a species of narrow platform, where they halted for a moment; in the first place to take breath, and then to consult about their further operations.
"Suppose we sleep here?" White Gazelle said. "The perpendicular rock behind us offers a famous shelter, from the wind, and, wrapped up in our zarapés and buffalo robes, I feel convinced we should be quite comfortable."
"Patience, Niña," the gambusino said, sententiously, "we must not talk about sleeping at present."
"Why not?" she said, sharply; "for my part, I may tell you I can sleep famously here."
"Possibly so, Niña," Andrés continued; "but we have something else to do at present."
"What then?"
"Look about us."
"Why, you must be mad, my friend. It is as black as in an oven. The demon himself, though so used to darkness, would tread on his tail."
"That is the very reason; let us take advantage of the moon not having yet risen, to explore the neighbourhood."
"I do not understand you."
"See how transparent the atmosphere is; the vacillating and dubious light of the stars is sufficient to let objects be distinguished at an enormous distance. If the men we are pursuing, eat, which is probable, this is just the hour they would select to cook their food."
"Well?" Don Pablo asked, curiously.
"Follow my argument closely; Red Cedar can only expect enemies from the side of the plain."
"That is true."
"Hence his precautions are taken on that side, and not here; he does not suspect us so near him, and, persuaded that no one is spying him, he will let the smoke of his fire rise peacefully to the sky in the shade of night, convinced that nobody will perceive it, which would be perfectly true, if, unfortunately for him, we were not here. Such is the reason why I urged you to enter the mountains, in spite of the advanced hour."
White Gazelle and Don Pablo were struck by the correctness of this reasoning. They began, in consequence, to form a better opinion of their guide, and tacitly recognise in him that superiority which a man who is thoroughly acquainted with a thing, always acquires at a given moment.
"Do as you think proper," Don Pablo said to him.
"We are quite of your opinion," the girl added.
The gambusino displayed no pride or fatuity at this acknowledgement of the justice of his argument; he contented himself with recommending his companions not to leave the spot where they were till his return, and then went off.
When he was alone, instead of walking as he had hitherto done, the gambusino lay down and began crawling slowly along the rocks, stopping every now and then to raise his head, look around him and listen to the thousand sounds of the desert. At the expiration of about two hours he returned.
"Well?" Don Pablo asked him.
"Come!" the gambusino laconically answered.
They followed, and he led them by a most abrupt path, where they were forced to crawl on their hands and knees, to escape falling over the precipices. After a lengthened ascent, made with extraordinary difficulty, the gambusino stood up, making his companions a sign to follow his example. They did not let the invitation be repeated, for they were completely worn out.
They found themselves on a platform like the one they had previously left; this platform, like the other, was commanded by an immense rock, but this rock had an enormous orifice like the entrance of an oven, and, strange enough, at the end of this orifice glittered a light about the size of a star.
"Look!" said the gambusino.
"Oh, oh! What is that?" Don Pablo asked in surprise.
"Can we have found what we are looking for?" White Gazelle exclaimed, as she clasped her hands.
"Silence," Andrés Garote whispered, as he placed his hand on her mouth; "we are at the entrance of a cavern, and these subterraneous passages are excellent sound conductors; Red Cedar has a fine ear, and though he is so far from you at this moment, you must fear his overhearing you."
They gazed for a long time at this flickering light; at times a shadow passed before this star, and its brilliancy was eclipsed for some minutes. The gambusino, when he judged that their curiosity was satisfied, touched them on the arm, and led them gently away.
"Come," he said to them.
They began ascending again. At the end of about half an hour he made them stop a second time, and stretched out his arm. "Look attentively," he said to them.
"Oh," Don Pablo said, at the end of a minute, "smoke."
In fact a slight jet of white smoke seemed to issue from the ground, and rose in a thin and transparent spiral to the sky.
"There is no smoke without fire," the gambusino said, with a grin; "I showed you the fire first, now there is the smoke. Are you convinced? Have we found the tiger's lair?"
"Yes," they said together.
"That is better than sleeping, eh?" he went on, with a slightly triumphant accent.
"What are we to do now?" White Gazelle quickly interrupted him.
"Oh, good gracious! A very simple thing," Andrés replied; "one of you two will immediately return to the camp to announce our discovery, and the master will act as he thinks proper."
"Good!" said the girl; "I will go."
"And you?" the gambusino asked Don Pablo.
"I stay here."
Garote made no objection, and White Gazelle darted down the mountain side with feverish ardour. The gambusino laid his buffalo robe carefully on the ground, wrapped himself in his zarapé, and lay down.
"What are you about?" Don Pablo asked him.
"You see," he replied, "I am preparing to sleep; we have nothing more to do at present, and must wait till tomorrow to act; I advise you to follow my example."
"That is true," the young man said; "you are right."
And, rolling himself in his zarapé, he threw himself on the ground. An hour passed away thus, and the two men slept, or pretended to sleep.
Then Don Pablo rose softly on his elbow, and bent over Andrés Garote, whom he attentively observed; he was sleeping the calmest possible sleep. The young man, reassured by this, rose, examined his weapons, and after giving the sleeper a last glance, descended the mountain.
The moon had risen and cast a light over the landscape scarce sufficient for him to proceed without fear of falling over a precipice. The young man, on reaching the lower platform, on to which the entrance of the cavern opened, stopped for a moment, muttered a fervent prayer, as he raised his eyes to the star-studded sky, and after once more examining his weapons to feel sure they were in good condition, he crossed himself and boldly entered the cavern.
Of a truth, he must have been gifted with ample stock of courage thus to brave a danger which was the more terrible, because it was unknown. With his eye fixed on the fire, which served as his polar star, Don Pablo advanced cautiously with outstretched arms, stopping at intervals to account for the nameless noises which constantly growl in caverns, and ready to defend himself against the invisible foes he suspected in the shadow.
He went on thus for a long time, the fire not appearing to grow larger, when the granite on which he rested his left hand to guide himself suddenly left off, and at the end of a narrow passage, dimly lighted by an expiring torch of candlewood, he perceived Ellen kneeling on the bare ground, and praying fervently.
The young man stopped, struck with admiration at this unexpected sight. The maiden, with her hair untied and floating in long tresses on her shoulders, with pallid face bathed in tears, seemed to be suffering the greatest sorrow. Sobs and heavy sighs were escaping from her burdened bosom.
Don Pablo could not resist the emotion that seized upon him. At this crushing sight, forgetting all prudence, he rushed toward the maiden with open arms, exclaiming, with an accent of supreme love: "Ellen, Ellen, what is the matter?"
At this voice, which smote her ear so unexpectedly, the girl rose, and said, with gestures of great majesty:
"Fly, unhappy man, fly, or you are lost!"
"Ellen," he repeated, as he fell on his knees, and clasped his hands in entreaty, "for mercy's sake hear me!"
"What do you want here?" she continued.
"I have come to save you, or perish in the attempt."
"Save me," she cried, sadly; "no, Don Pablo, my destiny is fixed forever. Leave me—fly—I implore you."
"No. I tell you a terrible danger impends over your father. He is hopelessly lost. Come, fly; there is yet time. Oh, Ellen, I implore you, in the name of our love—so chaste and pure, follow me!"
The maiden shook her head with a movement that set her long, fair tresses waving.
"I am condemned, I tell you, Don Pablo; remaining longer here will be your destruction. You say you love me—well, in the name of your love, or, if you insist, of mine, I implore you to leave me, to shun me forever. Oh, believe me, Don Pablo, my touch brings death. I am an accursed creature."
The young man folded his arms on his chest, and raised his head proudly.
"No," he said resolutely, "I will not go, I do not wish for the devotion to be yours solely. What do I care for life if I may never see you again? Ellen, we will die together."
"Oh, Heavens, how he loves me!" she exclaimed, in despair. "Oh, Lord! Lord! Have I suffered enough? Is the measure now full? Oh, Lord! Give me the strength to accomplish my sacrifice to the end. Listen, Don Pablo," she said to him, as she caught hold of his arm fiercely, "my father is an outlaw, the whole world rejects him; he has only one joy, one happiness in his immense suffering—his daughter. I cannot, I will not abandon him. Whatever love I may feel for you in my heart, Don Pablo, I will never leave my father. No, all is said between us, my love; remaining here longer would be uselessly braving a terrible and inevitable danger. Go, Don Pablo, go—it must be so."
"Remember," the young man said with a groan, "remember, Ellen, that this interview will be the last."
"I know it."
"You still wish me to go?"
"I insist on it."
"Yes, but I do not wish it," a rough voice suddenly said.
They turned in terror, and perceived Red Cedar looking at them with a grin, as he leant on his rifle. Ellen gave her father such a flashing glance, that the old squatter involuntarily looked down without replying. She turned to Don Pablo, and took his hand. "Come," she said to him. She walked resolutely toward her father, who did not stir. "Make way," she said boldly.
"No," the trapper answered.
"Pay attention to me, father," she continued; "I have sacrificed for you my life, my happiness, all my hopes on this earth, but on one condition that his life shall be sacred. Let him go, then; I insist on it."
"No," he said again, "he must die."
Ellen burst into a wild laugh, whose shrill notes made the two men shudder. With a movement swift as thought, she tore a pistol from the squatter's belt, cocked it, and put the muzzle to her forehead. "Make way!" she repeated.
Red Cedar uttered a yell of terror. "Stop!" he shouted, as he rushed toward her.
"For the last time, make way, or I kill myself!"
"Oh!" he said with an expression of rage impossible to endure, "Go, demon, but I shall find you again."
"Farewell, my beloved!" Ellen cried passionately; "farewell for the last time!"
"Ellen," the young man answered, "we shall meet again; I will save you in spite of yourself."
And rushing down the passage, he disappeared.
"And now, father," the maiden said, throwing the pistol far from her, when the sound of her lover's footsteps died away in the distance, "do with me what you please."
"I pardon you, child," Red Cedar replied gnashing his teeth, "but I will kill him."