La loi de lynch. English

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  EL RASTREADOR.

  Valentine fancied he had misunderstood him.

  "What!" he said, as he leaned over to the general.

  "I can never pass," he answered.

  The hunter looked at him in astonishment. He had known the general intoo many critical circumstances, to doubt his courage.

  "Why so?" he asked him.

  The general rose, seized his arm, and almost placing his mouth to hisear, whispered in a low voice as he looked timidly around:

  "Because I am afraid."

  At this expression, which he was so far from expecting, Valentine gave astart of surprise, and examining his friend with the utmost attention,so monstrous did what he had just heard appear to him from the mouth ofsuch a man, answered--

  "You must be joking."

  "No," he said, sadly, "I am afraid. Yes, I understand," he added amoment later with a sigh, "it seems strange to you, does it not, that Ishould say so; I, whom you have seen brave the greatest dangers with alaugh, and whom, up to the present, nothing has surprised. What wouldyou have? My friend, it is so, I am afraid. I know not why, but the ideaof crossing that barranca, holding on by my hands to that cord, whichmay break, causes me a ridiculous, invincible terror for which I cannotaccount, and which makes me shudder with terror. That death seems to mehideous, and I could not run the risk of it."

  While the general spoke, the hunter examined him with the closestattention. He was no longer the same man; his forehead was livid, a coldperspiration inundated his face, a convulsive tremor agitated all hislimbs, and his voice was hollow.

  "Nonsense!" Valentine said, attempting to smile, "it is nothing; alittle resolution, and you will overcome this terror, which is nothingbut dizziness."

  "I know not what it is, I cannot say; I can only assure you that I havedone all it is morally possible to do, in order to conquer this feelingwhich overpowers me."

  "Well."

  "All has been useless: even now, I believe that my terror increases withmy efforts to overcome it."

  "What! You who are so brave!"

  "My friend," the general answered with a sad smile, "courage is anaffair of the nerves; it is no more possible for a man to be constantlybrave than to be continually a coward; there are days when the matterovercomes the intellect, and physical feelings gain the upper hand overthe moral. On those days the most intrepid man is afraid; and this isone of those days with me, that is all."

  "Come, my friend," Valentine answered, "reflect a little; hang it all;you cannot remain here--returning is impossible; make a virtue ofnecessity."

  "All you say to me," the general interrupted him, "I have said tomyself; and I repeat to you, that, sooner than venture by that cord, Iwould blow out my brains."

  "Why, that is madness," the hunter shouted; "there is no common sense init."

  "Call it what you like; I understand as well as you do how ridiculous Iam, but it is stronger than I am."

  Valentine stamped his foot angrily as he looked across at his comrades,who, collected on the other side of the barranca, knew not to what toattribute this incomprehensible delay.

  "Listen, general," he said, after a moment's delay. "I will not desertyou thus, whatever may happen; too many reasons connect us for me toleave you to perish of hunger on this rock; you do not live nearly ayear with a man in the desert, sharing with him dangers, cold and heat,hunger and thirst, to separate in this way. If it be really impossiblefor you to cross the canyon as your comrades have done, and will leaveme to act, I will find other means."

  "Thanks, my friend," the general sadly replied, as he pressed his hand;"but believe me, do not trouble yourself about me, but leave me here:your comrades are growing impatient, so pray be off at once."

  "I will not go," the hunter said resolutely; "I swear that you shallcome with me."

  "No, I tell you, I cannot."

  "Try."

  "It is useless; I feel that my heart fails me. Good-bye, my friend."

  Valentine made no answer--he was thinking. After an instant he raisedhis head, and his face was radiant.

  "By Jove!" he said, gaily, "I was certain I should discover a way beforelong. Leave me alone, I answer for everything. You shall cross as if ina carriage."

  The general smiled.

  "Brave heart!" he muttered.

  "Wait for me," Valentine went on; "in a few minutes I will return, onlygrant me the time to prepare what I want."

  The hunter seized the rope and passed, but as soon as the general sawhim on the other side, he unfastened the lasso and threw it across.

  "What are you doing?--Stop!" the hunters shouted in stupor, mingled withhorror.

  The general bent over the barranca, holding on to a rock with his lefthand.

  "Red Cedar must not discover your trail," he said; "that is why Iunfastened the lasso. Good-bye, brother, and may the Almighty aid you."

  An explosion was heard, echoed in the distance by the mountains, and thegeneral's corpse rolled into the abyss, bounding from rock to rock witha dull sound. General Ibanez had blown out his brains.[1]

  At this unexpected denouement the hunters were petrified. They could notunderstand how, through the fear of killing himself in crossing thecanyon, the general had preferred blowing out his brains. Still, theaction was logical in itself; it was not death, but only the mode ofdeath that terrified him; and as he fancied it an impossibility tofollow his comrades, he had preferred sudden death. Still, in dying, thebrave general had rendered them a final and immense service. Thanks tohim, their trail had so entirely disappeared, that it would beimpossible for Red Cedar to find it again.

  The hunters, although they had succeeded in escaping from the fatalcircle in which the pirate had thrust them, owing to Valentine's daringresolve, still found themselves in a most critical situation: they mustget down into the plain as speedily as possible, in order to find someroad, and, as always, happens in the desert under such circumstances,every sympathy must promptly yield to the necessity that held them inits iron arms; the common danger suddenly aroused in them that feelingof self-preservation which never does more than sleep.

  Valentine was the first to overcome his grief and regain hisself-mastery. Since he had been crossing the desert, the hunter hadwitnessed so many strange scenes, had been an actor in so many mournfultragedies, that, his tender feelings were considerably blunted, and themost terrible events affected him but slightly.

  Still, Valentine felt a deep friendship for the general; in manycircumstances he had appreciated all that was really grand and noble inhis character, hence the fearful catastrophe which had, without anypreparation, broken the ties between them, produced a great impressionon him.

  "Come, come," he said, shaking his head as if to get rid of painfulthoughts, "what can't be cured must be endured. Our friend has left usfor a better world,--perhaps it is for the best so. God does everythingwell; our grief will not restore our dear friend's life, so let us thinkof ourselves, my friends, for we are not lying on roses, and if we donot make haste, we may run a risk of speedily joining him. Come, let usbe men."

  Don Miguel Zarate looked at him sadly.

  "That is true," he said; "he is happy now; let us attend to ourselves.Speak then, Valentine: what is to be done? We are ready."

  "Good," said Valentine; "it is time for our courage to return, for thehardest part of our task is not yet done; it is nothing to have crossedthat barranca if our trail can be found here, and that I wish to avoid."

  "Hum!" Don Pablo remarked; "that is very difficult, not to sayimpossible."

  "Nothing is impossible with strength, courage, and skill. Listenattentively to what I am about to say to you."

  "We will."

  "The barranca, on this side of the mountain, is not peaked as it is onthe side we have just left."

  "That is true," said Don Miguel.

  "About twenty yards below us you perceive a platform, close to whichbegins an inextricable forest, descending to the end of the precipice."


  "Yes."

  "That is our road."

  "What, our road, my friend!" Don Miguel objected; "but how shall wereach the platform to which you allude?"

  "In the easiest way: I will let you down with my lasso."

  "That is true; it is easy for us, but how will you join us?"

  "That need not trouble you."

  "Very good," Don Miguel remarked; "but now permit me to make a remark."

  "Do so."

  "Before us," the hacendero said, stretching out his hand, "is a readilytraced road, most convenient to follow, I fancy."

  "In truth," Valentine coldly answered, "what you say is most correct;but two reasons prohibit my taking that road, as you call it."

  "And those two reasons are?"

  "First, that ready traced road is so easy to follow that I am certainRed Cedar's suspicions will be directed to it at once, if the demonallows him to come here."

  "And the second?" Don Miguel interrupted.

  "Is this," Valentine went on: "in addition to the incontestableadvantages the road I propose offers, I do not wish, and I feel sure youare of the same opinion, that the body of my poor comrade, who hasrolled to the foot of the precipice, should remain unburied and becomethe prey of wild beasts. That is my second reason, Don Miguel; what doyou think of it?"

  The hacendero felt his heart dilate at these noble words; the tearssprung from his eyes and rolled silently down his cheeks. He seized thehunter's hand, and pressed it forcibly.

  "Valentine," he said, in a broken, voice, "you are better, than all ofus; your noble heart is filled with every great and generous feeling;thanks for your good idea, my friend."

  "It is agreed, then," the hunter simply said in response; "we will go."

  "Whenever you please."

  "Good; but as the night is dark, and the road rather dangerous,Curumilla, who has long been used to the desert, will go first to showyou the way. Come, chief, are you ready?"

  The Ulmen nodded his assent. Valentine leant his whole weight against arock, twisted the lasso twice round his body, and let the end fall intothe chasm; then, he made the chief, a sign to go down. The latter didnot let the invitation be repeated; he seized the rope in both hands;and placing his feet in crevices in the rocks, he gradually descendedtill he reached the platform.

  The hacendero and his son attentively followed the Indian's movements.When they saw him safe on the rock, they gave a sigh of relief, andprepared to follow him, which they did without accident.

  Valentine remained alone; consequently, no one could hold the lasso andrender him the service he had done his comrades; but he was notembarrassed by so trivial a circumstance. He passed the rope round arock, so that both ends were even, then slowly descended in his turn,and safely rejoined his comrades, who were startled and frightened atsuch a daring descent. Then he let go the end of the lasso, drew it tohim, rolled it up, and fastened it to his girdle.

  "I believe," he said with a smile, "that if we go on thus, Red Cedarwill have some difficulty in finding our trail, while we, on thecontrary, may find his. Come let us now take a look at our domain, andsee a little where we are."

  And he at once began walking round the platform. It was much larger thanthe one they had just left, and at its extremity began the virgin,forest, which descended with a gentle incline to the bottom of thebarranca. When Valentine had examined the place, he returned to hiscomrades, shaking his head.

  "What is the matter?" Don Pablo asked; "Have you seen anythingsuspicious?"

  "Hum!" Valentine answered; "I am greatly mistaken, or the lair of a wildbeast is somewhere close by."

  "A wild beast!" Don Miguel exclaimed; "What, at this elevation?"

  "Yes, and it is that very fact which makes me anxious; the traces arewide and deep. Look for yourself, Curumilla," he added, turning to theIndian, and pointing at the spot where he should proceed. Withoutreplying, the Ulmen stooped down, and attentively examined thefootprints.

  "What animal do you think we have to deal with?" Don Miguel asked.

  "A grizzly," Valentine answered.

  The grizzly bear is the most terrible and justly feared animal inAmerica. The Mexicans could not repress a start of terror on hearing thename of this terrible adversary pronounced.

  "But here's the chief returning," Valentine added. "All our doubts willbe cleared up. Well, chief, to what does that sign belong?"

  "Grizzly," Curumilla laconically answered.

  "I was sure of it," said Valentine; "and what is t more, the animal islarge."

  "Very large; the footmarks are eight inches wide."

  "Oh, oh," Don Miguel said, "we have a rough companion in that case. Butin what state is the sign, chief?"

  "Quite fresh; the animal passed scarce an hour ago."

  "By Jove!" Valentine suddenly shouted, "here is its lair."

  And he pointed to a large yawning hole in the mountain side. The huntersgave a start.

  "Gentlemen," Valentine went on, "you are no more anxious than myself tomeasure your strength with a grizzly, I suppose."

  "Certainly not," the Mexican exclaimed.

  "If you will follow my advice we will not remain any longer here; theanimal, I suspect, has gone down to drink, and will speedily return; letus not wait for it, but profit by its absence to be off."

  The three men enthusiastically applauded the hunter's proposal; for,although of tried bravery, the contest appeared to them sodisproportionate with this redoubtable adversary, that they did not atall desire to come face to face with it.

  "Let us be off," they eagerly shouted.

  Suddenly the sound of breaking branches was audible in the forest, and aformidable growling troubled the silence of night.

  "It is too late," Valentine said; "here is the enemy, the fight will bea tough one."

  The hunters leaned against the wall of rock, side by side, and in a fewmoments the hideous head of the grizzly appeared among the trees on alevel with the platform.

  "We are lost," Don Miguel muttered as he cocked his rifle; "for anyflight from this rock is impossible."

  "Who knows?" Valentine answered. "Heaven has done so much for us up tothe present, that we should be ungrateful to suppose that we shall beabandoned in this new peril."

  [Footnote 1: This episode, incredible as it may appear, is rigorouslytrue.--G.A.]