The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER SIXTY.

  Who was he then who lay by the fire? Not Carlos the cibolero! It washis manga--his botas--his hat and spurs--his complete habiliments!

  True, but Carlos was not in them. He it was who, half-naked, haddropped from the tree, and galloped off upon the horse! A mystery!

  Less than two hours before we left him where he had arrived--upon theedge of the grove. How had he been employed since then? A knowledge ofthat will explain the mystery.

  On reaching the grove he had ridden direct through the avenue and intothe glade, where he reined up his horse and dismounted. Cibolo wasgently laid upon the soft grass, with a kind expression; but his woundsremained undressed for the present. His master had no time for that.He had other work to do, which would occupy him for the next hour.

  With a slack bridle his horse was left to refresh himself on the sward,while Carlos proceeded to the execution of a design that had beenmatured in his mind during his long gallop.

  His first act was to make a fire. The night had grown chill enough togive excuse for one. It was kindled near the centre of the glade. Drylogs and branches were found among the underwood, and these were broughtforward and heaped upon the pile, until the flames blazed up, illumingthe glade to its very circumference. The huge pitahayas, gleaming inthe red light, looked like columns of stone; and upon these the eyes ofthe cibolero were now turned.

  Proceeding towards them, knife in hand, he commenced cutting through thestem of the largest, and its tall form was soon laid prostrate upon thegrass. When down, he hewed both stem and branches into pieces ofvarious length, and then dragged them up to the side of the fire.Surely he did not mean to add them to the pile! These green succulentmasses would be more likely to subdue the flame than contribute to itsbrilliancy.

  Carlos had no such intention. On the contrary, he placed the piecesseveral feet from the fire, arranging them in such a manner as toimitate, as nearly as possible, the form and dimensions of a human body.Two cylindrical pieces served for the thighs, and two more for thearms, and these were laid in the attitude that would naturally beadopted by a person in repose or asleep. The superior shoulder wasrepresented by the "elbow" of the plant; and when the whole structurewas covered over with the ample "manga" of the cibolero, it assumed astriking resemblance to the body of a man lying upon his side!

  The head, lower limbs, and feet, were yet wanting to complete thedesign--for it _was_ a design. These were soon supplied. A round clewof grass was formed; and this, placed at a small distance from theshoulders by means of a scarf and the cibolero's hat, was made to looklike the thing for which it was intended--a human head. The hat wasslouched over the ball of grass so as nearly to conceal it, and seemedas if so placed to keep the dew or the musquitos from the face of thesleeper!

  The lower limbs and feet only remained to be counterfeited. With theseconsiderable pains had to be taken, since, being nearest to the fire--according to the way in which hunters habitually sleep--they would bemore exposed to observation than any other part.

  All these points had been already considered by the cibolero; and,therefore, without stopping for a moment he proceeded to finish hiswork. His leathern "botas" were pulled off, and adjusted at a slightangle to the thighs of pitahaya, and in such a way that the rim of theample cloak came down over their tops. The huge spurs were allowed toremain on the boots, and could be seen from a distance gleaming in theblaze of the fire.

  A few more touches and the counterfeit was complete.

  He that had made it now stepped back to the edge of the glade, and,passing around, examined it from different points. He appearedsatisfied. Indeed, no one would have taken the figure for anything butthat of a sleeping traveller who had lain down without taking off hisspurs.

  Carlos now returned to the fire, and uttering a low signal brought thehorse up to his hand. He led the animal some paces out, and tightenedthe bridle-rein by knotting it over the horn of the saddle. This thewell-trained steed knew to be a command for him to give over browsing,and stand still in that same place until released by the hand of hismaster, or by a well-known signal he had been taught to obey. The lazofastened to the bit-ring was next uncoiled. One end of the rope wascarried to the prostrate figure, and placed under the edge of the manga,as though the sleeper held it in his hand!

  Once more the cibolero passed round the circumference of the glade, andsurveyed the grouping in the centre. Again he appeared satisfied; and,re-entering the thicket, he brought out a fresh armful of dry wood andflung it on the fire.

  He now raised his eyes, and appeared to scrutinise the trees that grewaround the glade. His gaze rested upon a large live-oak standing at theinner entrance of the avenue, and whose long horizontal limbs stretchedover the open ground. The top branches of this tree were coveredthickly with its evergreen frondage, and laced with vines and_tillandsia_ formed a shady canopy. Besides being the tallest tree, itwas the most ample and umbrageous--in fact, the patriarch of the grove.

  "'Twill do," muttered Carlos, as he viewed it. "Thirty paces--aboutthat--just the range. They'll not enter by the avenue. No--no dangerof that; and if they did--but no--they'll come along the bank by thewillows--yes, sure to do so:--now for Cibolo."

  He glanced for a moment at the dog, that was still lying where he hadbeen placed.

  "Poor fellow! he has had it in earnest. He'll carry the marks of theircowardly knives for the rest of his days. Well--he may live long enoughto know that he has been avenged--yes! that may he. But what shall I dowith him?"

  After considering a minute, he continued:--

  "Carrambo! I lose time. There's a half-hour gone, and if they'vefollowed at all they'll be near by this time. Follow they can withtheir long-eared brute, and I hope he'll guide them true. What can I dowith Cibolo? If I tie him at the root of the tree, he'll lie quietenough, poor brute! But then, suppose they should come this way! Idon't imagine they will. I shouldn't if I were in their place; butsuppose they should, the dog would be seen, and might lead them tosuspect something wrong. They might take a fancy to glance up the tree,and then--No, no, it won't do--something else must be done with Cibolo."

  Here he approached the root of the live-oak, and looked inquiringly upamong its branches.

  After a moment he seemed to be satisfied with his scrutiny. He hadformed a new resolution.

  "It will do," he muttered. "The dog can lie upon those vines. I'llplait them a little for him, and cover them with moss."

  Saying this, he caught hold of the lower limbs, and sprang up into thetree.

  After dragging down some of the creeping vines, he twined them betweenthe forks of a branch, so as to form a little platform. He next toreoff several bundles of the _tillandsia_, and placed it over the spotthus wattled.

  When the platform was completed to his satisfaction, he leaped downagain; and, taking the animal in his arms, carried him up to the tree,and placed him gently upon the moss, where the dog lay quietly down.

  To dispose of himself was the next consideration. That was a matter ofeasy accomplishment, and consisted in laying hold of his rifle, swinginghis body back into the tree, and seating himself firmly among thebranches.

  He now arranged himself with care upon his seat. One branch, a stoutone, supported his body, his feet rested upon another, while a thirdformed a stay for his arms. In a fork lay the barrel of his long rifle,the stock firmly grasped in his hands.

  He looked with care to this weapon. Of course it was already loaded,but, lest the night-dew might have damped the priming, he threw up thepan-cover, with his thumb-nail scraped out the powder, and then pouredin a fresh supply from his horn. This he adjusted with his picker,taking care that a portion of it should pass into the touch-hole, andcommunicate with the charge inside. The steel was then returned to itsplace, and the flint duly looked to. Its state of firmness was felt,its edge examined. Both appeared to be satisfactory, so the piece wasonce more brought to its rest in the fork of the branch.


  The cibolero was not the man to trust to blind chance. Like all of hiscalling, he believed in the wisdom of precautions. No wonder he adoptedthem so minutely in the present instance. The neglect of any one ofthem might be fatal to him. The flashing of that rifle might cost himhis life! No wonder he was particular about the set of his flint, andthe dryness of his powder.

  The position he occupied was well chosen. It gave him a view of thewhole glade, and no object as large as a cat could enter the openingwithout being seen by him.

  Silently he sat gazing around the circle of green shrubbery--silentlyand anxiously--for the space of nearly an hour.

  His patient vigil was at length rewarded. He saw the yellow face as itpeered from the underwood, and for a moment hesitated about firing at itthen. He had even taken sight upon it, when it was drawn back!

  A little longer he waited--till the mulatto, rising to his knees,offered his face full in the blazing light. At that moment his fingerpressed the trigger, and his unerring bullet passed through the brain ofhis treacherous foeman!