The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XV.

  FRAY AMBROSIO.

  The monk remained for a long time in the room of the meson, taking downthe names of the adventurers he wished to enrol in his band. It was latewhen he left it to return to the Hacienda de la Noria; but he wassatisfied with his night's work, and internally rejoiced at the richcollection of bandits of the purest water he had recruited.

  The monks form a privileged caste in Mexico: they can go at all hours ofthe night wherever they please without fearing the numerous "gentlemenof the road," scattered about the highways. Their gown inspires arespect which guarantees them from any insult, and preserves them betterthan anything from unpleasant rencontres. Besides, Fray Ambrosio, as thereader has doubtless already perceived, was not the man to neglectindispensable precautions in a country where, out of ten persons youmeet on your road, you may boldly assert that nine are rogues, the tenthalone offering any doubts. The worthy chaplain carried under his gown apair of double-barrelled pistols, and in his right sleeve he concealed along _navaja_, sharp as a razor, and pointed as a needle.

  Not troubling himself about the solitude that reigned around him, themonk mounted his mule and proceeded quietly to the hacienda. It wasabout eleven o'clock.

  A few words about Fray Ambrosio, while he is peacefully ambling alongthe narrow path which will lead him in two hours to his destination,will show all the perversity of the man who is destined to play anunfortunately too important part in the course of our narrative.

  One day a gambusino, or gold seeker, who had disappeared for two years,no one knowing what had become of him, and who was supposed to be deadlong ago, assassinated in the desert by the Indians, suddenly reappearedat the Paso del Norte. This man, Joaquin by name, was brother to AndresGarote, an adventurer of the worst stamp, who had at least a dozen_cuchilladas_ (knife stabs) on his conscience, whom everybody feared,but who, through the terror he inspired, enjoyed at the Paso, in spiteof his well-avouched crimes, a reputation and species of impunity whichhe abused whenever the opportunity offered.

  The two brothers began frequenting together the mesones and ventas ofthe village, drinking from morn till night, and paying either in golddust enclosed in stout quills, or in lumps of native gold. The rumoursoon spread at Paso that Joaquin had discovered a rich placer, and thathis expenses were paid with the specimens he had brought back. Thegambusino replied neither yes nor no to the several insinuations whichhis friends, or rather his boon companions, attempted on him. Hetwinkled his eyes, smiled mysteriously, and if it were observed that, atthe rate he was living at, he would soon be ruined, he shrugged hisshoulders, saying:--

  "When I have none left I know where to find others."

  And he continued to enjoy his fill of all the pleasures which a wretchedhole like Paso can furnish.

  Fray Ambrosio had heard speak, like everyone else, of the gambusino'sasserted discovery; and his plan was at once formed to become master ofthis man's secret, and rob him of his discovery, were that possible.

  The same evening Joaquin and his brother Andres were drinking, accordingto their wont, in a meson, surrounded by a crowd of scamps likethemselves. Fray Ambrosio, seated at a table with his hands hidden inthe sleeves of his gown, and hanging head, appeared plunged in seriousreflections, although he followed with a cunning eye the variousmovements of the drinkers, and not one of their gestures escaped him.

  Suddenly a man entered, with his hand on his hip, and throwing in theface of the first person he passed the cigarette he was smoking. Heplanted himself in front of Joaquin, to whom he said nothing, but beganlooking at him impudently, shrugging his shoulders, and laughingironically at all the gambusino said. Joaquin was not patient, he saw atthe first glance that this person wished to pick a quarrel with him; andas he was brave, and feared nobody, man or devil, he walked boldly up tohim, and looking at him fixedly in his turn, he said to him, as hethrust his face in his:

  "Do you seek a quarrel, Tomaso?"

  "Why not?" the latter said impudently, as he set his glass on the table.

  "I am your man. We will fight how you please."

  "Bah!" Tomaso said carelessly, "let us do things properly, and fightwith the whole blade."

  "Be it so."

  The combats which take place between the adventurers are truly likethose of wild beasts. These coarse men, with their cruel instincts, likefighting beyond all else, for the smell of blood intoxicates them. Theannouncement of this duel caused a thrill of pleasure to run through theranks of the leperos and bandits who pressed round the two men. The funwas perfect: one of the adversaries would doubtless fall--perhapsboth--and blood flow in streams. Cries and yells of delight were raisedby the spectators.

  The duel with knives is the only one that exists in Mexico, and issolely left to the leperos and people of the lowest classes. This duelhas its rules, which cannot be broken under any pretext. The knivesusually employed, have blades from fourteen to sixteen inches in length,and the duelists fight according to the gravity of the insult, with one,two, three, six inches, or the entire blade. The inches are carefullymeasured and the hand clutches the knife at the marked spot.

  This time it was a duel with the whole blade, the most terrible of all.With extraordinary politeness and coolness the landlord had a large ringformed in the middle of the room, where the two adversaries stationedthemselves, about six paces from each other at the most.

  A deep silence hung over the room, a moment previously so full of lifeand disturbance; every one anxiously awaited the _denouement_ of theterrible drama that was preparing. Fray Ambrosio alone had not quittedhis seat or made a sign.

  The two men rolled their zarapes round their left arm, plantedthemselves firmly on their outstretched legs, bent their bodies slightlyforward and gently placing the point of the knife blade on the armrounded in front of the chest, they waited, fixed on each other flashingglances. A few seconds elapsed, during which the adversaries remainedperfectly motionless: all hearts were contracted, all bosoms heaving.

  Worthy of Callot's pencil was the scene offered by these men, with theirweather-stained faces and harsh features, and their clothes in rags,forming a circle round two combatants ready to kill each other in thismean room, slightly illumined by a smoky lamp, which flashed upon theblue blades of the knives, and in the shadow, almost disappearing in hisblack gown, the monk, with his implacable glance and mocking smile, who,like a tiger thirsting for blood, awaited the hour to pounce on hisprey.

  Suddenly, by a spontaneous movement rapid as lightning, the adversariesrushed on each other, uttering a yell of fury. The blades flashed, therewas a clashing of steel, and both fell back again. Joaquin and Tomasohad both dealt the same stroke, called, in the slang of the country, the"blow of the brave man." Each had his face slashed from top to bottomwith a gaping wound.

  The spectators frenziedly applauded this magnificent opening scene: thejaguars had scented blood, and were mad.

  "What a glorious fight!" they exclaimed with admiration.

  In the meanwhile the two combatants, rendered hideous by the blood thatstreamed from their wounds and stained their faces, were again watchingfor the moment to leap on one another. Suddenly they broke ground; butthis time it was no skirmish, but the real fight, atrocious andmerciless. The two men seized each other round the waist, and entwinedlike serpents, they twisted about, trying to stab each other, andexciting themselves to the struggle by cries of rage and triumph. Theenthusiasm of the spectators was at its height: they laughed, clappedhands, and uttered inarticulate howls as they urged the fighters not toloose their hold.

  At length the enemies rolled on the ground still enclasped. For someseconds the combat continued on the ground, and it was impossible todistinguish who was the conqueror. All at once one of them, who nolonger had a human form, and whose body was as red as an Indian's,bounded to his feet brandishing his knife. It was Joaquin.

  His brother rushed toward him to congratulate him on his victory, butall at once the gambusino tottered and fainted. Tomaso did not risea
gain: he remained motionless, stretched out on the uneven floor of themeson. He was stark dead.

  This scene had been so rapid, its conclusion so unforeseen, that, inspite of themselves, the spectators had remained dumb, and as if struckwith stupor. Suddenly the priest, whom all had forgotten, rose andwalked into the centre of the room, looking round with a glance thatcaused all to let their eyes fall.

  "Retire, all of you," he said in a gloomy voice, "now that you haveallowed this deed worthy of savages to be accomplished. The priest mustoffer his ministry, and get back from Satan, if there be still time, thesoul of this Christian who is about to die. Begone!"

  The adventurers hung their heads, and in a few moments the priest wasleft alone with the two men, one of whom was dead, the other at the lastgasp. No one could say what occurred in that room; but when the priestleft it, a quarter of an hour later, his eyes flashed wildly. Joaquinhad given his parting sigh. On opening the door to go out Fray Ambrosiojostled against a man, who drew back sharply to make room for him. Itwas Andres Garote. What was he doing with his eye at the keyhole whilethe monk was shriving his brother?

  The adventurer told no one what he had seen during this last quarter ofan hour, nor did the monk notice in the shade the man he had almostthrown down.

  Such was the way in which Fray Ambrosio became master of the gambusino'ssecret, and how he alone knew at present the spot where the placer was.