CHAPTER XI.
PSYCHOLOGICAL.
About half a league to the west of Santa Fe three men and a woman wereseated behind a dense clump of trees, which sheltered while renderingthem unseen, over a _bois-de-vache_ fire, supping with good appetite,and chatting together. The three men were Red Cedar's sons; the femalewas Ellen. The maiden was pale and sad: her dreamy eye wandered aroundwith a distraught expression. She listened hardly to what her brotherssaid, and would certainly have been greatly embarrassed to describe theconversation, for her mind was elsewhere.
"Hum!" Sutter said, "what the deuce can keep the old one so long? Hetold us he should be back by four o'clock at the latest; but the sun isjust disappearing on the horizon, and he has not come yet."
"Pshaw!" Nathan said with a shrug of the shoulders. "Are you afraid thatsomething has happened to him? The old chap has beak and nails to defendhimself; and since his last turn up with Don Miguel, the fellow who isto be shot tomorrow at Santa Fe, he has kept on his guard."
"I care very little," Sutter replied brusquely, "whether father is hereor not; but I believe we should do well not to wait longer, but returnto the camp, where our presence is doubtless necessary."
"Nonsense! Our comrades can do without us," Shaw observed. "We are allright here, so suppose we stop the night. Tomorrow it will be day. Well,if father has not returned by sunrise, we will go back to camp. Harryand Dick can keep good order till our return."
"In truth, Shaw is right," Nathan said. "Father is at times so strange,that he might be angry with us for not having waited for him; for henever does anything lightly. If he told us to stay here, he probably hadhis reasons."
"Let us stay, then," Sutter remarked carelessly. "I ask for nothingbetter. We shall only have to keep the fire up, and so one of us willwatch while the others sleep."
"Agreed on," Nathan replied. "In that way, if the old man comes duringour sleep, he will see that we waited for him."
The three brothers rose. Sutter and Nathan collected a pile of dry woodto maintain the fire, while Shaw intertwined a few branches to make hissister a sufficient shelter for the night. The two elder brothers thrusttheir feet toward the fire, wrapped themselves in their blankets, andwent to sleep, after advising Shaw to keep a bright lookout, not onlyagainst wild beasts, but to announce the old squatter's approach. Shaw,after stirring up the fire, threw himself at the foot of a larch tree,and letting his head sink on his chest, plunged into deep and painfulmeditation.
This poor boy, hardly twenty years of age, was a strange composite ofgood and evil qualities. Reared in the desert, he had grown up like oneof its native trees, thrusting out here and there branches full ofpowerful sap. Nothing had ever thwarted his instincts, no matter whattheir nature might be. Possessing no cognizance of justice andinjustice, he had never been able to appreciate the squatter's conduct,or see the injury he did society by the life he led. Habituated toregard as belonging to himself all that he wished for, allowing himselfto be guided by his impressions and caprices, never having felt anyother fetter than his father's despotic will, this young man had at oncea nature expansive and reserved, generous and avaricious, gentle andcruel: in a word, he possessed all the qualities of his vices; but hewas, before all, a man of sensations. Endowed with a vast intellect,extreme audacity, and lively comprehensions, he would have beenindubitably a remarkable man, had he been born in a different position.
His sister Ellen was the only member of his family for whom heexperienced sympathy; and yet it was only with extreme reserve that heintrusted his boyish secrets to her--secrets which, during the last fewdays, had acquired an importance he did not himself suspect, but whichhis sister, with the innate intelligence of woman, had already divined.
Shaw, as we have said, was thinking. The young savage's indomitablenature revolted against an unknown force which had suddenly sprung up inhis heart--mastered and subdued him in spite of all his efforts. He wasin love! He loved, ignorant even of the meaning of the word love, whichcomprises in this nether world all earthly joy and suffering. Vainly hesought to explain his feelings; but no light flashed across his mind, orillumined the darkness of his heart. He loved without desire and withouthope, involuntarily obeying that divine law which compels even theroughest man to seek a mate. He was dreaming of Dona Clara. He lovedher, as he was capable of loving, with that passionate impetuosity, thatviolence of feeling, to which his uncultivated mind adapted him. Thesight of the maiden caused him a strange trouble, which he did notattempt to account for. He did not try to analyse his feelings, for thatwould have been impossible; and yet at times he was a prey to cold andterrible fury, when thinking that the haughty maiden, who was evenunconscious of his existence, would probably only spurn and despise himif she knew it. He was yielding to these crushing thoughts, when hesuddenly felt a hand laid on his shoulder. On turning, Ellen stoodbefore him, upright and motionless, like the white apparitions of theGerman legends. He raised his head, and bent an inquiring glance on hissister.
"You are not asleep, Ellen?"
"No," she answered in a voice soft as a bird's song. "Brother, my heartis sad."
"What is the matter, Ellen? Why not enjoy a few hours of that repose sonecessary for you?"
"My heart is sad, I tell you, brother," she went on. "In vain do I seeksleep--it flies far from me."
"Sister, tell me the cause of your sufferings, and perhaps I can appeasethe grief that devours you."
"Can you not guess it?"
"I do not understand you."
She looked at him so sternly that he could not let his eyes fall.
"On the contrary, you understand me too well, Shaw," she said with asigh. "Your heart rejoices at this moment at the misfortune of the womanyou should defend."
The young man blushed.
"What can I do?" he murmured faintly.
"Everything, if you have the firm will," she exclaimed energetically.
"No," Shaw went on, shaking his head with discouragement; "the person ofwhom you speak is the old man's prisoner. I cannot contend against myfather."
Ellen smiled contemptuously.
"You seek in vain to hide your thoughts from me," she said harshly. "Iread your heart as an open book: your sorrow is feigned, and you reallyrejoice at the thought that in future you will constantly be by DonaClara's side."
"I!" he exclaimed with an angry start.
"Yes, you only see in her captivity a means to approach her. Yourselfish heart is secretly gladdened by that hope."
"You are harsh to me, sister. Heaven is my witness that, were itpossible, I would at once restore her the liberty torn from her."
"You can if you like."
"No, it is impossible. My father watches too closely over his prisoner."
"He will not distrust you, but allow you to approach her freely."
"What you ask of me is impossible."
"Because you will not, Shaw. Remember that women only love men inproportion to the sacrifices they make for them: they despise cowards."
"But how to save her?"
"That is your affair, Shaw."
"At least give me some advice which will help me to escape from thedifficult position in which I find myself."
"In such serious circumstances your heart must guide you, and you mustonly ask counsel of it."
"But the old one?" Shaw said hesitatingly.
"Our father will not know your movements. I take on myself to preventhim noticing them."
"Good!" the young man remarked, half convinced; "but I do not know wherethe maiden is hidden."
"I will tell you, if you swear to do all in your power to save her."
There was a moment of silence.
"I swear to obey you, Ellen. If I do not succeed in carrying the girloff, I will at any rate employ all my intellect to obtain that result.Speak, then, without fear."
"Dona Clara is confined at the Rancho del Coyote: she was intrusted toAndres Garote."
"Ah, ah!" the young man said, as if speaking to himself, "I d
id notfancy her so near us."
"You will save her?"
"At all events I will try to free her from the hands of the man whoguards her."
"Good!" the maiden remarked; "I now recognise you. Lose no time: myfather's absence alarms me. Perhaps at this moment he is preparing asafer hiding place for his prisoner."
"Your idea is excellent, sister. Who knows whether it is not too latenow to tear from the old man the prey he covets?"
"When do you intend to start?"
"At once: I have not a moment to lose. If the old man returned I shouldbe compelled to remain here. But who will keep watch while my brotherssleep?"
"I will," the maiden answered resolutely.
"Whence arises the interest you feel in this woman, sister, as you donot know her?" the young man asked in surprise.
"She is a woman, and unhappy. Are not those reasons sufficient?"
"Perhaps so," Shaw remarked doubtfully.
"Child!" Ellen muttered, "Can you not read in your own heart, the motiveof my conduct toward this stranger?"
The young savage started at this remark.
"It is true!" He exclaimed passionately. "Pardon me, sister! I am mad;but I love you, and you know me better than I do myself."
And rising hurriedly, he kissed his sister, threw his rifle over hisshoulder, and ran off in the direction of Santa Fe.
When he had disappeared in the gloom, and the sound of his footsteps haddied out in the distance, the girl fell on the ground, muttering in alow, sad voice:
"Will he succeed?"
The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West Page 35