The fireflies buzzed carelessly round the top of the grass, and the flickering fires burning before the tents to which the hunters were bound could be already seen about half a league ahead. At a signal from Don Miguel the party, which had, up to the present, only trotted, set out at a long canter; for each felt anxious to leave a scene which, in the darkness, had assumed a sinister aspect.
They thus arrived within a hundred yards of the fires, whose ruddy glow was reflected on the distant trees, when suddenly a fearful yell crossed the air, and from behind every bush out started an Indian horseman brandishing his weapons, and making his horse curvet round the white men, while uttering his war cry. The Mexicans, taken unawares, were surrounded ere they sufficiently recovered from their stupor to think about employing their weapons. At a glance Don Miguel judged the position: it was a critical one. The hunters were at the most but twenty: the number of Comanche warriors surrounding them was at least three hundred.
The Comanches and Apaches are the most implacable foes of the white race. In their periodical invasions of the frontiers they hardly ever make any prisoners: they mercilessly kill all who fall into their hands. Still the Mexicans rallied. Certain of the fate that awaited them, they were resolved to sell their lives dearly. There was a moment of supreme expectation before the commencement of the deadly combat, when suddenly an Indian galloped out of the ranks of the warriors, and rode within three paces of the little band of Mexicans. On arriving there he stopped, and waved his buffalo robe in sign of peace. The governor of the provinces prepared to speak.
"Let me carry on the negotiations," Don Miguel said. "I know the Indians better than you do, and perhaps I shall succeed in getting out of this awkward position."
"Do so," the governor answered.
General Ibañez was the only one who had remained calm and impassive since the surprise: he did not make a move to seize his weapons; on the contrary, he crossed his arms carelessly on his chest, and took a mocking glance at his comrades as he hummed a seguidilla between his teeth. Don Pablo had placed himself by his father's side, ready to defend him at the peril of his life. The Indian chief took the word.
"Let the palefaces listen," he said; "an Indian sachem is about to speak."
"We have no time to spare in listening to the insidious words which you are preparing to say to us," Don Miguel replied in a haughty voice. "Withdraw, and do not obstinately bar our passage, or there will be blood spilt."
"The palefaces will have brought it on themselves," the Comanche answered in a gentle voice. "The Indians mean no harm to the pale warriors."
"Why, then, this sudden attack? The chief is mad. We do not let ourselves be so easily deceived as he seems to suppose: we know very well that he wants our scalps."