[CHAPTER II.]
THE PIRATES.
It was evening, at a distance nearly equal from the camp of the Mexicans, and that of the Comanches.
Concealed in a ravine, deeply enclosed between two hills, about forty men were assembled around several fires, dispersed in such a manner that the light of the flames could not betray their presence.
The strange appearance offered by this assemblage of adventurers, with gloomy features, ferocious glances, and strange and mean attire, offered a feature worthy of the crayon of Callot, or the pencil of Salvator Rosa.
These men, a heterogeneous mixture of all the nationalities that people the two worlds, from Russia to China, were the most complete collection of scoundrels that can be imagined; thorough food for the gallows, without faith or law, fire or home, the true outcasts of society, which had rejected them from its bosom, obliged to seek a refuge in the depths of the prairies of the west; even in these deserts they formed a band apart, fighting sometimes against the hunters, sometimes against the Indians, excelling both in cruelty and roguery.
These men were, in a word, what people have agreed to call, the pirates of the prairies.
A denomination which suits them in every way, since, like their brothers of the ocean, hoisting all colours, or rather tramping them all underfoot, they fall upon every traveller who ventures to cross the prairies alone, attack and plunder caravans, and when all other prey escapes them, they hide themselves traitorously in the high grass to entrap the Indians, whom they assassinate in order to gain the premium which the paternal government of the United States gives for every aboriginal scalp, as in France they pay for the head of a wolf.
This troop was commanded by Captain Waktehno, whom we have already had occasion to bring on the scene.