The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER II.

  THE CUCHILLADA.

  So soon as the door was opened two men appeared on the threshold. Thefirst was Curumilla; the other, wrapped up in a large cloak, and withhis broad-brimmed hat drawn over his eyes, entered the room, making theIndian chief a sign to follow him. The latter was evidently a Mexican.

  "_Santas tardes!_" he said as he raised his hand to his hat, but notremoving it.

  "_Dios las de a usted buenas!_" the ranchero answered. "What shall Iserve to your excellencies?"

  "A bottle of mezcal," the stranger said.

  The newcomers seated themselves at the end of the room, at a spot whichthe light reached in such a weakened state that it was almost dark. Whenthey were served each poured out a glass of liquor, which he drank; andleaning his head on his hands, the Mexican appeared plunged in deepthought, not occupying himself the least in the world about the personsnear him. Curumilla crossed his arms on his chest, half closed his eyes,and remained motionless.

  Still the arrival of these two men, especially the presence of thestranger, had suddenly frozen the eloquence of our three friends. Gloomyand silent, they instinctively felt that the newcomers were enemies, andanxiously waited for what was about to occur. At length Red Cedar,doubtless more impatient than his comrades, and wishful to know at oncewhat he had to expect, rose, filled his glass, and turned toward thestrangers.

  "Senores caballeros," he said, imitating that exquisite politeness whichthe Mexicans possess in the highest degree. "I have the honor ofdrinking to your health."

  At this invitation Curumilla remained insensible as a granite statue:his companion slowly raised his head, fixed his eye for a moment on thespeaker, and answered in a loud and firm voice,--

  "It is needless, senor, for I shall not drink to yours. What I say toyou," he added, laying a stress on the words, "your friends can alsotake for themselves if they think proper."

  Fray Ambrosio rose violently.

  "What do you say?" he exclaimed in a threatening voice. "Do you mean toinsult me?"

  "There are people whom a man cannot mean to insult," the strangercontinued in a cutting voice. "Remember this, senor padre--I do not wishto have any dealings with you."

  "Why so?"

  "Because I do not please--that is all. Now, gentlemen, do not troubleyourselves about me, I beg, but continue your conversation: it was mostinteresting when I arrived. You were speaking, I believe, about anexpedition you are preparing: there was a question too, I fancy, when Ientered, about a girl your worthy friend, or partner--I do not knowwhich he is--carried off with your assistance. Do not let me disturbyou. I should, on the contrary, be delighted to learn what you intenddoing with that unhappy creature."

  No words could render the feeling of stupor and terror which seized onthe three partners at this, crushing revelation of their plans. Whenthey fancied they had completely concealed them by their cunning andskill, to see them thus suddenly unveiled in all their extent by a manwhom they did not know, but who knew them, and in consequence could onlybe an enemy--this terrified them to such a degree that for a moment theyfancied they had to do with the spirit of evil. The two Mexicans crossedthemselves simultaneously, while the American uttered a hoarseexclamation of rage.

  But Red Cedar and Fray Ambrosio were men too hardened in iniquity forany event, however grave in its nature, to crush them for long. Thefirst moment past, they recovered themselves, and amazement gave way tofury. The monk drew from his vaquera boot a knife, and posted himselfbefore the door to prevent egress; while Red Cedar, with frowning browand a machete in his hand, advanced resolutely toward the table, behindwhich their bold adversary, standing with folded arms, seemed to defythem by his ironical smile.

  "Whoever you may be," Red Cedar said, stopping two paces from hisopponent, "chance has made you master of a secret that kills, and youshall die."

  "Do you really believe that I owe a knowledge of your secrets tochance?" the other said with a mocking accent.

  "Defend yourself," Red Cedar howled furiously, "If you do not wish me toassassinate you; for, _con mil diablos!_ I shall not hesitate, I warnyou."

  "I know it," the stranger replied quietly. "I shall not be the firstperson to whom that has happened: the Sierra Madre and El Bolson deMapimi have often heard the agonising cries of your victims, whenIndians were wanting to fill up your number of scalps."

  At this allusion to his frightful trade the squatter felt a livid pallorcover his face, a tremor agitated all his limbs, and he yelled in achoking voice,--

  "You lie! I am a hunter."

  "Of scalps," the stranger immediately retorted, "unless you have givenup that lucrative and honourable profession since your last expedition tothe village of the Coras."

  "Oh!" the squatter shouted with an indescribable burst of fury, "He is acoward who hides his face while uttering such words."

  The stranger shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and let the folds ofhis mantle fall sharply.

  "Do you recognise me, Red Cedar, since your conscience has not yetwhispered my name to you?"

  "Oh!" the three men exclaimed in horror, and instinctively recoiling"Don Pablo de Zarate!"

  "Yes," the young man continued, "Don Pablo, who has come, Red Cedar, toask of you an account of his sister, whom you carried off."

  Red Cedar was in a state of extraordinary agitation: with eyes dilatedby terror, and contracted features, he felt the cold perspirationbeading on his temples at this unexpected apparition.

  "Ah!" he said in a hollow voice, "Do the dead, then, leave the tomb?"

  "Yes," the young man shouted loudly, "they leave their tomb to tear yourvictims from you. Red Cedar, restore me my sister!"

  The squatter leaped like a hyena on the young man, brandishing hismachete.

  "Dog!" he yelled, "I will kill you a second time."

  But his wrist was suddenly seized by a hand of iron, and the bandittottered back to the wall of the rancho, against which he was forced tolean, lest he should roll on the ground. Curumilla, who had hithertoremained an impassive witness of the scene that took place before him,had thought the moment for interference, had arrived, and had sharplyhurled him back. The squatter, with eyes injected with blood, and lipsclenched by rage, looked around him with glaring worthy of a wild beast.Fray Ambrosio and the ranchero, held in check by the Indian chief, didnot dare to interfere. Don Pablo walked with slow and measured steptoward the bandit. When he was ten paces from him he stopped, and lookedfixedly at him.

  "Red Cedar," he repeated in a calm voice, "give me back my sister."

  "Never!" the squatter answered in a voice choked by rage.

  In the meanwhile the monk and the ranchero had treacherously approachedthe young man, watching for the propitious moment to fall on him. Thefive men assembled in this room offered a strange and sinister scene bythe uncertain light that filtered through the windows, as each stoodwith his hand on his weapon, ready to kill or be killed, and onlyawaiting the opportunity to rush on his enemy. There was a moment ofsupreme silence. Assuredly these men were brave. In many circumstancesthey had seen death under every aspect; and yet their hearts beat as ifto burst their breasts, for they knew that the combat about to commencebetween them was without truce or mercy. At length Don Pablo spokeagain.

  "Take care, Red Cedar," he said. "I have come to meet you alone andhonourably. I have asked you for my sister several times, and you havenot answered; so take care."

  "I will sell your sister to the Apaches," the squatter howled. "As foryou, accursed one, you shall not leave this room alive. May I beeternally condemned if your heart does not serve as a sheath to myknife!"

  "The scoundrel is mad!" the young man said contemptuously.

  He fell back a pace, and then stopped.

  "Listen," he continued. "I will now retire, but we shall meet again; andwoe to you then, for I shall be as pitiless to you as you have been tome. Farewell!"

  "Oh! you shall not go in that way, my master," replied the squatter, whohad regained all h
is boldness and impudence. "Did I not tell you I wouldkill you?"

  The young man fixed upon him a glance of undefinable expression, andcrossed his arms boldly on his chest.

  "Try it," he said in a voice rendered harsh by the fury boiling in hisheart.

  Red Cedar uttered a yell of rage, and bounded on Don Pablo. The lattercalmly awaited the attack; but, so soon as the squatter was within reachhe suddenly took off his mantle, and threw it over his enemy's head,who, blinded by the folds of the thick garment, rolled about on theground, unable to free himself from the accursed cloth that held himlike a net. With one bound the young man was over the table, andtroubling himself no further about Red Cedar, proceeded toward the door.

  At this moment Fray Ambrosio rushed upon him, trying to bury his knifein his chest. Feeling not the slightest alarm, Don Pablo seized hisassailant's wrist, and with a strength he was far from anticipating,twisted his arm so violently that his fingers opened, and he let theknife fall with a yell of pain. Don Pablo picked it up, and seized themonk by the throat.

  "Listen, villain!" he said to him. "I am master of your life. Youbetrayed my father, who took pity on you, and received you into hishouse. You dishonour the gown you wear by your connection withcriminals, whose ill deeds you share in. I could kill you, and perhapsought to do so; but it would be robbing the executioner to whom youbelong, and cheating the garrote which awaits you. This gown, of whichyou are unworthy, saves your life; but I will mark you so that you shallnever forget me."

  And placing the point of the knife on the monk's livid face, he made twogashes in the shape of a cross along the whole length and breadth of hisface.

  "We shall meet again!" he added in a thundering voice, as he threw theknife away in disgust.

  Andres Garote had not dared to make a move: terror nailed him motionlessto the ground beneath the implacable eye of the Indian warrior. DonPablo and Curumilla then rushed from the room and disappeared, and erelong the hoofs of two horses departing at full speed from the town couldbe heard clattering over the pavement.

  By the aid of the ranchero, Red Cedar presently succeeded in freeinghimself from the fold of the cloak that embarrassed him. When the threeaccomplices found themselves alone again an expression of impotent rageand deadly hatred distorted their faces.

  "Oh!" the squatter muttered, grinding his teeth, and raising his fist toheaven, "I will be revenged."

  "And I too," said Fray Ambrosio in a hollow voice, as he wiped away theblood that stained his face.

  "Hum! I do not care," Andres Garote said to himself aside. "That familyof the Zarates is a fine one; but, _caray_! it must be confessed thatDon Pablo is a rough fellow."

  The worthy ranchero was the only one chance had favoured in this meetingby letting him escape safe and sound.