Les outlaws du Missouri. English

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE PRISONER.

  That same day, about nine o'clock in the evening, the outlaw was seatedface to face with Captain Pierre Durand at a table covered with dishes,plates, and empty bottles, which testified to the appetite of the twomen, and to the rude attack they had made upon everything in order tosatisfy it.

  The two men were now smoking excellent cigars, while sipping, like trueamateurs, some mocha, served in real Japanese cups. Close at hand, inaddition, were bottles containing every conceivable kind of liquors andspirits.

  They had reached that precise period in the repast so prized bygourmets, when, the mind elevated and the brain excited by succulentfood and generous libations, one feels a kind of happy state of beingthat is simply charming.

  For one whole quarter of an hour neither of the two men had spoken orcared to speak.

  It was the outlaw who first broke the charm.

  "You are aware, my dear captain," he said, "that in half an hour I mustleave you and be off."

  "Excuse me," cried Pierre Durand, starting, "if I believe a single wordof such a mad assertion."

  "Yes, I am truly sorry to say, it is the exact fact. Doubtless you knowas well as I do, business before all."

  "I have not the remotest idea of interfering with your affairs," criedthe sea captain, glumly.

  "Then what do you mean?"

  "That you are not going to leave me in the lurch."

  "Still, when I tell you I must go," said the outlaw.

  "All I mean is this, that if you go I go," cried Pierre.

  "What! A night journey like this?" asked Tom.

  "Night journey, day journey, it is all the same to me. I am an oldsailor," growled Pierre Durand; "and every kind of locomotion isequally indifferent to me. Besides, I have known you a very long time,haven't I? And I know what sort of trade you carry on," he added.

  The outlaw kept his countenance.

  "Of course, I shall not be surprised or scandalised at anything I see.All I know is that here I should be bored to death, having nothingto do. It would be a nice little change to join you in one of yourfilibustering expeditions."

  All this was said in a joking kind of way that excluded all idea ofgiving offence.

  "Well," said Tom Mitchell, smiling, "any way, you would find yourselfutterly disappointed."

  "How is that?"

  "I am not going to plunder, but to restore. Of course I don't pretendit is my usual custom," said Tom.

  "Very well," cried Pierre; "I think that will be much more funny. Ishould like to join in the good work."

  "But, my friend--" urged the outlaw.

  "There is no but about it. I am a Breton, that is to say, as obstinateas several mules," continued Pierre Durand; "and I mean to come,unless, indeed, you tell me that my demand is in reality offensive andintrusive."

  "By no means," cried Tom; "come then. Who can resist anyone soobstinate as you are, my friend?"

  "You are a delightful fellow. I am ready."

  "Not quite; there are conditions; at least, one."

  "Pray let me know what it is."

  "You must profit by the few minutes that remain to us to disguiseyourself, so as to be unrecognisable."

  "To what purpose, in a country where nobody knows me?" cried PierreDurand; "Will you tell me a reason?"

  "That is my secret. Will you consent? That is right. Now go there, andyou will find all things necessary."

  Pierre Durand was about to leave the room, but the outlaw indicatedwhere everything was ready.

  "There is another favour I must ask of you."

  "Go ahead, nothing surprises me," said the captain, who, withmagnificent sang-froid had commenced his work.

  "In case chance should bring us face to face with people we know,"he said, earnestly, "you will still keep up your incognito, even ifyou happen to see among these the face of the friend whom you havetravelled so far to see."

  The captain, who was blacking his beard with soot and fat, havingalready darkened his eyebrows, gave a start.

  "Will he be there?" he asked.

  "I do not say so. It is more than probable that he will not be there.Still, I wish to exercise every precaution."

  "Hum, still it appears very hard."

  "Still, do you consent? Yes or no."

  "I repeat what you just said. I suppose I must," said Pierre; "and as Isee you are in earnest, I promise, on my honour."

  "Enough; then make haste."

  After rendering his features and countenance utterly unrecognisable,the captain threw off his outer clothes, and assumed the costume of aplanter of the frontier.

  "What languages do you speak?" asked Tom.

  "Nearly all civilised ones as easily as I do French," replied Durand;"but, above all, English and Spanish."

  "Very good," continued Tom; "then during our excursion I shall alwayscall you Don Jose Remero."

  "Don Jose Remero be it."

  "You must recollect that you are a captain in the Spanish navy, fledfrom home after a fatal duel."

  "All right," grinned Pierre.

  "Do not forget to take weapons. I can strongly recommend this tison. Itis a perfect and choice rapier," said Tom; "have this long and pointedknife in your right boot. You may want it when you least expect. Do youride?"

  "Like a centaur," laughed the Frenchman.

  "I am very glad to hear it; and now secure this carbine and this pairof pistols," continued Tom.

  "Why, I shall look like an arsenal."

  "My friend, it is the custom of the country," said Tom; "no one thinksof travelling in any other way."

  "One does at Rome as Rome does. I'm your man," cried Pierre, laughing;"what do you think of me?"

  "Unrecognisable. I should not know you anywhere. You are clever; evenyour accent is changed."

  "That is always the first thing to be thought of," said Pierre Durand;"and now what is the nature of the restitution?"

  "We are going," replied the outlaw, with a smile, "to restore a younggirl to her friends and relatives."

  "A young girl?" cried Durand.

  "Yes--a most charming and interesting maiden, whom I captured the otherday. I can no longer resist her tender sorrow."

  "Bah!" said the young sailor, with a grin.

  "I swear to you, upon my honour," cried the outlaw, warmly, "that shehas been treated with the most profound respect and even tenderness."

  "Spoken like an honest man," said the captain, warmly. "But may I askwith what object you took her away?"

  "I had a motive, which I fear me exists no longer. I even fear," hesaid, gloomily, "I have entered upon a bad speculation. But it isuseless to discuss the matter anymore. Soon there shall be no mysteriesfor you. Be seated again."

  "Why?" asked the captain, puzzled at all these mysteries.

  "She comes, and it is rather important I should say a few words to herbefore we start on our journey."

  "I am your humble servant to command."

  Tom Mitchell struck a gong, and Camotte appeared.

  "Have my orders been executed?" asked the outlaw.

  "Yes, captain. The stranger is watched carefully, and yet withoutcreating suspicion," replied the lieutenant.

  "Where is he now?"

  "In his own room."

  "If tomorrow he asks after me," said Tom Mitchell, "you will give himthe answer already agreed on."

  "Yes, captain."

  "What about the detachments?"

  "Those have started within the hour, I shall start with the last assoon as the moon rises," replied Camotte.

  "Remember," said Tom, thoughtfully, "that tomorrow morning at sunrise,if not before, you must be back."

  "Be easy as to that, captain," said the other, significantly; "I shallnot leave the island without a chief just now."

  "Humph!" observed the captain, suspiciously, "Is there anything freshin the air?"

  "Nothing in appearance, much in reality."

  "You can speak out here," said Tom Mitchell; "i
f you have anything tosay, say it without hesitation."

  "About an hour ago, when I was going my round," said the matter-of-factand faithful Camotte, "I met that fellow Versenca at the water's edge;he was wet through, and had evidently been swimming. When he saw mehe was utterly confounded, and then when I questioned him as to hisconduct he gave me a lot of silly reasons a child of five would haveseen through."

  The captain reflected with a dark frown.

  "Redouble your vigilance, my good Camotte," he said at last. "On thefirst suspicion arrest him until I come back."

  "For greater safety, captain," replied Camotte, "I shall take him withme tonight, I can watch him."

  "Mind he does not give you the slip. A traitor would be dangerous justnow. He is as cunning as an opossum."

  "I know it, but two can play at the same game."

  "Good. I leave it to you. Have Black Athol and Goliath saddled for us,and Miss Lara for the prisoner, if safe."

  "She is quite a lady's horse--an ambler. She will quite suit herrider," replied Camotte.

  "Mind you," continued Tom, "let the three be harnessed forwar--victuals, holsters, ammunition, and pistols."

  "As a matter of course. When Black Athol and Goliath go out, I know youare bent on mischief. What absence?"

  "Three days at most," replied the captain; "and during that time neverleave the island."

  "And you go alone?" asked Camotte, anxiously.

  "With the gentleman, as I have already said."

  "I think you should take Tete de Plume," said Camotte.

  "Will you tell me why?" asked the captain, smiling.

  "No one ever knows on an expedition what may happen," drily replied thelieutenant, "and two are better than one."

  "But I have told you, we are two already."

  "Very good," he continued, "but you would be three."

  "I tell you what it is, Camotte," said the captain, laughing, "you dojust as you like with me. Let him come."

  "I thank you heartily," cried the delighted lieutenant.

  "Above all, whatever happens, keep my absence a secret," said TomMitchell; "that is above all essential."

  "Your orders shall be obeyed in all things."

  "And now bring in the prisoner," continued Tom. "By the way, have yousaid anything to her?"

  "Captain, you know I am no babbler," observed Camotte.

  "Very true," said Tom, and then turning to Pierre, he added, laughing,"that fellow does not put too much confidence in me."

  "His manner is strange. Perhaps he distrusts me."

  "No; Camotte is a bulldog for fidelity and discretion; but, likebulldogs, he is both suspicious and jealous," replied Tom.

  "I bear him no malice for his jealousy," said Pierre; "besides, Imyself always like those kind of men."

  "Yes, they are indeed very precious," continued Tom; "unfortunately,you have to give way to them a little."

  "Well, when it is from pure devotion, nothing can be said."

  At this moment the door opened, and a young girl entered the room,effectually checking the conversation.

  This young girl was Angela, or Evening Dew, whichever it may please thereader to call her.

  She gave a graceful curtsy, and then remained with downcast eyes beforethe outlaw chief.

  The two men rose from their seats and bowed respectfully.

  "My sister is welcome," said the outlaw, smiling, and speaking in theIndian tongue; "be seated."

  "Evening Dew is a slave, and presumes not to sit down in the presenceof her master," responded the young girl, in a voice as melodious asthe song of a bird, but the tone of which was firm and distinct. "Ihave said."

  Evening Dew was a delicious child of seventeen at most, in whom the tworaces, white and red, of both which she was the issue, seemed to havevied which should produce the most wondrous chef d'oeuvre.

  Her elegant and slight form, slightly bent forward with that serpentineundulation which belongs to American women, her long hair, black asthe raven's wing, fell almost to her feet, and when loosened, mighthave served her as a cloak. Her complexion had the golden tint of thedaughters of the sun; her great blue and dreamy eyes were fringed bylong velvet lashes; her mouth, revealing her vermilion lips, and a rowof dazzling white teeth, gave to her physiognomy that rare expressionscarcely ever found except in some virgin of Titian.

  The sailor was dazzled at the really marvellous beauty of the younggirl. He had no idea that the whole continent of America could haveproduced such a fairy.

  The captain smiled at her reply.

  "Evening Dew has no master here. She is with friends who will protecther," he said, heartily.

  "Friends!" she cried, clasping her hands together, while the pearlytears went down her cheeks; "Is it possible?"

  "I swear to you, young girl," he continued, "that what I say is true.I have sent for you to apologise for what has happened, to demandforgiveness for your cruel abduction."

  "Oh, sir," she cried, in excellent French, "oh, sir, can I reallybelieve my ears! Is it true?"

  "You would insult me by disbelieving," he replied, in the samelanguage; "tomorrow you will be with your friends."

  "Thank you, sir, from my soul," she sobbed forth.

  And before the captain could prevent her--before he suspected herintention, the was on her knees kissing his hand.

  Tom Mitchell respectfully raised her from the ground and led her to thechair she had once refused.

  "Then you are very unhappy here?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes," she cried, "I have indeed been very unhappy; how, in fact,could I be otherwise?"

  "And yet," said the captain, with a frown, "I have given the moststrict orders with regard to your treatment."

  "I beg most earnestly to acknowledge, sir, that I have been treated inthe most honourable fashion, that I have been surrounded by the mostdelicate attentions. But oh, sir, I was a prisoner, alas! Far awayfrom those I love, and whom my absence plunges, like myself, in utterdespair."

  "Pardon me, miss," said the chief, "my wrong towards you will soon berepaired, I promise you."

  "Then you are good indeed!"

  "Tomorrow," he added, with considerable emotion, "you shall be restoredto the bosom of your family."

  "Do that, sir," she cried, "and I will love you. Ever after you shallbe as a brother to me."

  "I will endeavour to merit the title, Miss Angela," he said, softly;"henceforth you will no longer curse me."

  "Curse you who give me back to those I love! No, I will bless you fromthe bottom of my heart," she cried, earnestly, "and, believe me, Godwill amply reward you."

  "I have a strong conviction that way myself," he said, smiling; "evenheaven could scarcely be deaf to your prayer."

  The girl coloured deeply at these words, which were uttered with suchearnest conviction as caused her to bow her head.

  The captain simply smiled softly.

  "Are you tolerably strong, miss?" he asked.

  "Why do you ask me this question?" she said.

  "Because," he answered, "we have a very long journey to go before wefind your friends."

  "What matters about fatigue, sir? I am already strong. The very ideahas restored my vigour."

  "We shall have to undertake a long night journey," he continued,"through the prairies, by very rough ways."

  She clapped her pretty hands together joyously; a charming smilelightened up her physiognomy, and then she cried out in a delighted andproud accent--

  "I have Indian blood in my veins, sir," she cried; "I am the daughterof a brave Canadian hunter. Fear nothing for me. I am not a woman ofthe towns, who, I am told, can neither walk nor run."

  "They are very much like it," growled Pierre.

  "Try me, put me to any proof, and you will see of what I am capable toget back to my friends."

  "Come, I see, at all events, that you are as brave and noble a woman asyou are beautiful. Come, it is time."

  "Do we go directly?" she cried.

  "Yes," was his smi
ling answer.

  "One moment," she said; "give me time to thank God for having touchedyour heart. Let me pray."

  "Do as you wish," he replied, respectfully.

  The young girl folded her arms across her breast, raised her looksheavenward with an inspired air for some minutes. One could see by herthoughtful brow, from the compression of her coraline lips, that shewas praying. Her face was radiant, her eyes were full of tears. Sheseemed transfigurated.

  The two men, despite their rude aspect and rough natures, stoodrespectfully beside her, utterly cowed, overcome, crushed under theweight of her purity and innocence. They stood before her hat in hand.

  When her short and ardent prayer was over, the girl turned to them withan ineffable smile.

  "Now, gentlemen," she said, bowing to the two men who she saw werehenceforth her slaves, "I am quite ready."

  The outlaw and his companion bowed and followed behind as she led theway outside.

  Camotte was there, as was also the valorous Tete de Plume, holding thehorses.

  Tom Mitchell led Miss Angela to the mare Lara, which he had ordered tobe saddled, and held the stirrup respectfully.

  "Mount," he said, just as if he had been speaking to a princess in herown right.

  Then, as soon as the outlaw had given some last whispered directions toCamotte, they started, Tom Mitchell riding at the head of the littleband.

  By the time the ford was passed over in safety the moon had risen inthe sky above the trees.

  The four travellers were now safe on terra firma.

  "Now, Miss Angela," said Tom Mitchell, gallantly, "place yourselfbetween this gentleman and myself. Good. And now, Tete de Plume, myboy, take the rearguard, and, whatever you do, look out."

  The four cavaliers dashed off at a hand gallop, and soon disappeared inthe windings of the defile.