THE PRESERVER.
In order to make the reader comprehend the position of the hunters, it is necessary to return to the Comanche chief.
Scarce had his enemies disappeared among the trees, ere Eagle Head raised himself softly up, bent his body forward, and listened to ascertain if they were really departing. As soon as he had acquired that certainty, he tore off a morsel of his blanket with which he wrapped up his arm as well as he could, and, in spite of the weakness produced by loss of blood and the pain he suffered, he set off resolutely on the trail of the hunters.
He accompanied them, thus himself unseen, to the limits of the camp. There, concealed behind an ebony tree, he witnessed, without being able to prevent it, though boiling with rage, the search made by the hunters for their traps, and, at length, their departure after recovering them.
Although the bloodhounds which the hunters had with them were excellent dogs, trained to scent an Indian from a distance, by a providential chance, which probably saved the life of the Comanche chief, they had fallen upon the remains of the repast of the redskins, and their masters, not dreaming that they were watched, did not think of commanding their vigilance.
The Comanches at length regained their camp, after having, with infinite difficulty, succeeded in catching their horses.
The sight of their wounded chief caused them great surprise, and still greater anger, of which Eagle Head took advantage to send them all off again in pursuit of the hunters, who, retarded by the traps they carried, could not be far off, and must inevitably fall speedily into their hands.
They had been but for an instant the dupes of the stratagem invented by Loyal Heart, and had not been long in recognising, on the first trees of the forest unequivocal traces of the passage of their enemies.
At this moment, Eagle Head, ashamed of being thus held in check by two determined men, whose cunning, superior to his own, deceived all his calculations, resolved to put an end to them at once, by carrying into execution the diabolical project of setting fire to the forest; a means which, according to the manner in which he meant to employ it, must, he did not doubt, at length deliver his formidable adversaries up to him.
In consequence, dispersing his warriors in various directions, so as to form a vast circle, he ordered the high grass to be set on fire in various places simultaneously.
The idea, though barbarous and worthy of the savage warriors who employed it, was a good one. The hunters, after having vainly endeavoured to escape from the network of flame which encompassed them on all sides, would be obliged, in spite of themselves, if they did not prefer being burnt alive, to surrender quietly to their ferocious enemies.
Eagle Head had calculated and foreseen everything, except the most easy and most simple thing, the only chance of safety that would be left to Loyal Heart and his companions.
As we have said, at the command of their chief the warriors had dispersed, and had lighted the conflagration at several points simultaneously.
At this advanced season of the year, the plants and grass, parched by the incandescent rays of the summer's sun, were immediately in a blaze, and the fire extended in all directions with frightful rapidity.
Not, however, so quickly as not to allow a certain time to elapse before it united.
Loyal Heart had not hesitated. Whilst the Indians were running like demons around the barrier of flame they had just opposed to their enemies, and were uttering yells of joy, the hunter, followed by his friend, had rushed at full speed between two walls of fire, which from right and left advanced upon him, hissing, and threatening to unite at once above his head and beneath his feet. Amidst calcined trees which fell with a crash, blinded by clouds of thick smoke which stopped their respiration, burnt by showers of sparks which poured upon them from all parts, following boldly their course beneath a vault of flame, the intrepid adventurers had cleared, at the cost of a few trifling burns, the accursed enclosure in which the Indians had thought to bury them for ever, and were already far from the enemies who were congratulating themselves upon the success of their artful and barbarous plan.
The conflagration, in the meantime, assumed formidable proportions; the forest shrivelled up under the grasp of the fire; the prairie was but one sheet of flame, in the midst of which the wild animals, driven from their dens and lairs by this unexpected catastrophe, ran about, mad with terror.
The sky gleamed with blood-red reflections, and an impetuous wind swept before it both flames and smoke.
The Indians themselves were terrified at their own handiwork, on seeing around them entire mountains lighted up like baleful beacons; the earth became hot, and immense troops of buffalos made the ground tremble with their furious course, while they uttered those bellowings of despair which fill with terror the hearts of the bravest men.
In the camp of the Mexicans everything was in the greatest disorder; it was all noise and frightful confusion. The horses had broken their shackles, and fled away in all directions; the men seized their arms and ammunition; others carried the saddles and packages.
Everyone was crying, swearing, commanding—all were running about the camp as if they had been struck with madness.
The fire continued to advance majestically, swallowing up everything in its passage, preceded by a countless number of animals of all kinds, who bounded along with howls of fear, pursued by the scourge which threatened to overtake them at every step.
A thick smoke, laden with sparks, was already passing over the camp of the Mexicans; twenty minutes more and all would be over with them.
The general, pressing his niece in his arms, in vain demanded of the guides the best means of avoiding the immense peril which threatened them.
But these men, terrified by the imminence of the peril, had lost all self-possession. And then, what remedy could be employed? The flames formed an immense circle, of which the camp had become the centre.
The strong breeze, however, which up to that moment had kept alive the conflagration, by lending it wings, sank all at once.
There was not a breath of air.
The progress of the fire slackened.
Providence granted these unhappy creatures a few minutes more.
At this moment the camp presented a strange aspect.
All the men, struck with terror, had lost the sense even of self-preservation.
The lanceros confessed to each other.
The guides were plunged in gloomy despair.
The general accused Heaven of his misfortune.
As for the doctor, he only regretted the plant he could not discover; with him every other consideration yielded to that.
Doña Luz, with her hands clasped, and her knees on the ground, was praying fervently.
The fire continued to approach, with its vanguard of wild beasts.
"Oh!" cried the general, shaking the arm of the guide violently, "will you leave us to be burnt thus, without making an effort to save us?"
"What can be done against the will of God?" the Babbler replied, stoically.
"Are there no means, then, of preserving us from death?"
"None!"
"There is one!" a man cried, who, with a scorched face, and half-burnt hair, rushed into the camp, climbing over the baggage, and followed by another individual.
"Who are you?" the general exclaimed.
"That is of little consequence," the stranger replied, drily; "I come to save you! My companion and I were out of danger; to succour you we have braved unheard-of perils—that should satisfy you. Your safety is in your own hands; you have only to will it."
"Command!" the general replied, "I will be the first to give you the example of obedience."
"Have you no guides with you, then?"
"Certainly we have," said the general.
"Then they are traitors or cowards, for the means I am about to employ are known to everybody in the prairie."
The general darted a glance of mistrust at the Babbler, who had not been able to suppress an appearance of disagreeable surprise at the sudden coming of the two strangers.
"Well," said the hunter, "that is an account you can settle with them hereafter; we have something else to think of now."
The Mexicans at the sight of this determined man, with his sharp impressive language, had instinctively beheld a preserver; they felt their courage revive with hope, and held themselves ready to execute his orders with promptness.
"Be quick!" said the hunter, "and pull up all the grass that surrounds the camp."
Everyone set to work at once.
"For our part," the stranger continued, addressing the general, "we will take wetted blankets and spread them in front of the baggage."
The general, the captain, and the doctor, under the directions of the hunter, did as he desired, whilst his companion lassoed the horses and the mules, and hobbled them in the centre of the camp.
"Be quick! be quick!" the hunter cried incessantly, "the fire gains upon us!"
Everyone redoubled his exertions, and, in a short time a large space was cleared.
Doña Luz surveyed with admiration this strange man, who had suddenly appeared among them in such a providential manner, and who, amidst the horrible danger that enveloped them, was as calm and self-possessed as if he had had the power to command the awful scourge which continued to advance upon them with giant strides.
The maiden could not take her eyes off him; in spite of herself, she felt attracted towards this unknown preserver, whose voice, gestures,—his whole person, in short, interested her.
When the grass and herbs had been pulled up with that feverish rapidity which men in fear of death display in all they do, the hunter smiled calmly.
"Now," he said, addressing the Mexicans, "the rest concerns me and my friend; leave us to act as we think proper; wrap yourselves carefully in damp blankets."
Everyone followed his directions.
The stranger cast a glance around him, and then after making a sign to his friend, walked straight towards the fire.
"I shall not quit you," the general said, earnestly.
"Come on, then," the stranger replied, laconically.
When they reached the extremity of the space where the grass had been pulled up, the hunter made a heap of plants and dry wood with his feet, and scattering a little gunpowder over it, he set fire to the mass.
"What are you doing?" the general exclaimed, in amazement.
"As you see, I make fire fight against fire," the hunter replied, quietly.
His companion had acted in the same manner in an opposite direction.
A curtain of flames arose rapidly around them, and, for some minutes, the camp was almost concealed beneath a vault of fire.
A quarter of an hour of terrible anxiety and intense expectation ensued.
By degrees the flames became less fierce, the air more pure; the smoke dispersed, the roarings of the conflagration diminished.
At length they were able to recognise each other in this horrible chaos.
A sigh of relief burst from every breast.
The camp was saved!
The conflagration, whose roaring became gradually more dull, conquered by the hunter, went to convey destruction in other directions.
Everyone rushed towards the stranger to thank him.
"You have saved the life of my niece," said the general warmly; "how shall I discharge my debt to you?"
"You owe me nothing, sir," the hunter replied, with noble simplicity; "in the prairie all men are brothers; I have only performed my duty by coming to your assistance."
As soon as the first moments of joy were past, and the camp had been put in a little order, everyone felt the necessity for repose after the terrible anxieties of the night.
The two strangers, who had constantly repulsed modestly, but firmly, the advances the general had made in the warmth of his gratitude, threw themselves carelessly on the baggage for a few hours' rest.
A little before dawn they arose.
"The earth must be cool by this time," said the hunter: "let us be gone before these people wake; perhaps they would not wish us to leave them so."
"Let us be gone!" the other replied laconically.
At the moment he was about to pass over the boundary of the camp, a hand was laid lightly upon the shoulder of the elder. He turned round, and Doña Luz was before him.
The two men stopped and bowed respectfully to the young lady.
"Are you going to leave us?" she asked in a soft and melodious voice.
"We must, señorita," the hunter replied.
"I understand," she said with a charming smile; "now that, thanks to you, we are saved, you have nothing more to do here,—is it not so?"
The two men bowed without replying.
"Grant me a favour," she said.
"Name it, señorita."
She took from her neck a little diamond cross she wore.
"Keep this, in remembrance of me."
The hunter hesitated.
"I beg you to do so," she murmured in an agitated voice.
"I accept it, señorita," the hunter said, as he placed the cross upon his breast close to his scapulary; "I shall have another talisman to add to that which my mother gave me."
"Thank you," the girl replied joyfully; "one word more?"
"Speak it, lady."
"What are your names?"
"My companion is called Belhumeur."
"But yourself?"
"Loyal Heart."
After bowing a second time, in sign of farewell, the two hunters departed at a quick pace, and soon disappeared in the darkness.
Doña Luz looked after them as long as she could perceive them, and then returned slowly and pensively towards her tent, repeating to herself in a low but earnest tone,—
"Loyal Heart! Oh! I shall remember that name."