Gustave Aimard
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War

CHAPTER IX.
HOSPITALITY

We have said that night had fallen for some time past, and it was quite dark under covert. In the black sky a chaos of clouds, laden with the electric fluid, rolled heavily along. Not a star glistened in the vault of heaven; an autumnal breeze whistled gustily through the trees, and at each blast covered the ground with a shower of dead leaves.

In the distance could be heard the dull and mournful appeals of the wild beasts proceeding to the drinking place, and the snapping bark of the coyotes, whose ardent eyes at intervals gleamed like incandescent coals amid the shrubs. At times lights flashed in the forest and ran along the fine marsh grass like will-o'-the-wisps. Large dried up sumach trees stood at the corners of the clearing, in which the bivouac was established, and in the fantastic gleams of the fire waved like phantoms their winding sheets of moss and lianas. A thousand sounds passed through the air; nameless cries escaped from invisible lairs, hollowed beneath the roots of the aged trees; stifled cries descended from the crests of the quebradas, and our adventurers felt an unknown world living around them, whose proximity froze the soul with a secret terror.

Nature was sad and melancholy, as when she is in travail with one of those terrible overthrows so frequent in these regions. In spite of themselves, the hunters underwent the influence of this discomfort of the desert. There are black hours in life, in which, either through the action of external objects, or the common and mysterious disposition of the inner being, that me which cannot be defined, the strongest men feel unconsciously mastered by a strange contagion of sadness which they seem to breathe in the air, and which overpowers them without power of defence. The news brought by Quoniam had further augmented this tendency of the hunters to melancholy; hence the conversation round the fire, ordinarily gay and careless, was sad and short. Everyone yielded to the flood of gloomy thoughts that contracted his heart, and the few words exchanged at lengthened intervals between the hunters generally remained unanswered.

Carmela alone, lively as a nightingale, continued in a low voice her conversation with Singing-bird, while warming herself, for the night was cold, and not noticing the anxious sideglances which the Canadian at times gave her. At the moment when Lanzi and Quoniam were preparing to go to sleep, a slight crackling was heard in the shrubs. The hunters, suddenly torn from their secret thoughts, raised their heads quickly. The horses had stopped eating, and with their heads turned to the thicket, and ears laid back, appeared to be listening.

In the desert, everything has a reason; the wood rangers, accustomed to analyse all the rumours of the prairie, know and explain them without ever making a mistake; the rustling of the branch on which the hand rests, the noise of the leaf falling on the ground, the murmur of the water over the pebbles – nothing escapes the marvellous sagacity of these men, whose senses have acquired an extraordinary delicacy.

"Someone is prowling round us," Loyal Heart muttered in a voice not above a breath.

"A spy, of course," said Lanzi.

"Spy or no, the man who is approaching is certainly a white," said Tranquil, as he stretched out his arm to clutch the rifle lying by his side.

"Stay, father," Carmela said eagerly, as she seized his arm; "perhaps it is a poor wretch lost in the desert, who needs help."

"It may be so," Tranquil replied after a moment's reflection; "at any rate, we shall soon know."

"What do you intend doing?" the girl exclaimed, terrified at seeing him rise.

"Go and meet the man, and ask him what he wants, that is all."

"Take care, father."

"Of what, my child?"

"Suppose this man were one of the bandits who traverse the desert?"

"Well, what then?"

"And he were to kill you?"

The Canadian shrugged his shoulders.

"Kill me, girl, nonsense! Reassure yourself, my child, whoever the man may be, he will not see me unless I deem it necessary. So let me alone."

The maiden tried once more to prevent his departure, but the Canadian would listen to nothing. Freeing himself gently from Carmela's affectionate clutch, he picked up his rifle and disappeared in the chaparral with so light and well-measured a step, that he seemed rather to be gliding on a cloud, than walking on the grass of the clearing.

So soon as he reached the centre of the thicket, from which the ill-omened sound he had heard came, the hunter, ignorant as he was as to how many enemies he had to deal with, redoubled his prudence and precautions: after a hesitation which lasted only a few seconds, he lay down on the ground, and began gently crawling through the grass, without producing the slightest rustling sound.

We will now return to the monk, whom we left proceeding toward the hunters' bivouac, accompanied by Blue-fox. The Apache Chief, after giving him the instructions he thought best adapted to inspire him with a wholesome terror, and compel him to serve his plans, left him alone, and disappeared so suddenly, that the monk could not guess in what direction he had gone. When he was alone, Fray Antonio took a timid glance around him; his mind was perplexed, for he could not conceal from himself how delicate and difficult of accomplishment was the mission with which the Chief had entrusted him, especially when dealing with a man so clever and well versed in Indian tricks as the tiger killer.

More than once the monk cursed the malignity of his planet which led him into such traps, and seemed to take a delight in accumulating on his head all the annoyances and tribulations possible. For a moment, he thought of flight, but he reflected that he was doubtless carefully watched, and that at the slightest suspicious movement he attempted, the invisible guardians who were watching him would suddenly appear before him, and compel him to carry out the adventure to the end.

Fortunately for himself, the monk belonged to that privileged class of men whom even the greatest annoyances but slightly affect, and who, after feeling wretched for a few moments, frankly make up their minds, saying to themselves that when the moment arrives in which they run a risk, an accident will perhaps draw them from their trouble, and turn matters to their advantage, in lieu of crushing them.

This reasoning, false though it be, is employed more frequently than may be supposed by a number of people, who, after saying to themselves "when it comes, we shall see," push boldly onwards, and, extraordinary to say, generally succeed in getting out of the hobble, without the loss of too many feathers, and without themselves knowing what they did to have so lucky an escape.

The monk, therefore, resolutely entered the covert, guiding himself by the light of the fire as a beacon. For some minutes he went on at a tolerable pace, but gradually as he approached, his alarm returned; he remembered the rough correction Captain Melendez had administered to him, and this time he feared even worse.

Still, he was now so near the bivouac that any backsliding would be useless. For the purpose of granting himself a few minutes' further respite, he dismounted, and fastened his horse to a tree with extreme slowness: then, having no further plausible pretext to offer himself for delaying his arrival among the hunters, he decided on starting again, employing the most minute precautions not to be perceived too soon, through fear of receiving a bullet in his chest, before he had time to have an explanation with the persons he visited at so awkward an hour.

But Fray Antonio, unluckily for himself, was extremely obese; he walked heavily, and like a man accustomed to tread the pavement of a town; moreover, the night was extremely dark, which prevented him seeing two yards ahead, and he could only progress with outstretched hands, tottering at each step, and running against every obstacle that came across his path.

Hence he did not go far, ere he aroused the persons he desired so much to surprise, and whose practised ear, constantly on the watch, had at once noticed the unusual sound which he had himself not noticed. Fray Antonio, extremely satisfied with his manner of progression, and congratulating himself in his heart at having succeeded so well in concealing himself, grew bolder and bolder, and began to feel almost entirely reassured, when suddenly he uttered a slight cry of terror, and stopped as if his feet had been rooted in the ground. He had felt a heavy hand laid on his shoulder.

The monk began trembling all over, though not daring to turn his head to the right or left, for he was persuaded in his heart that his last hour had arrived.

"Hilloh, Señor Padre, what are you doing in the forest at such an hour?" a hoarse voice then said to him.

But Fray Antonio was unable to answer; terror had rendered him deaf and blind.

"Are you dumb?" the voice went on a minute after in a friendly voice. "Come, come, it is not wise to traverse the desert at so late an hour."

The monk did not reply.

"Deuce take me," the other exclaimed, "if terror has not rendered him idiotic. Come, bestir yourself, canarios."

And he began shaking him vigorously.

"Eh, what?" the monk said, in whom a species of reaction was beginning to take place.

"Come, there is some progress, you speak, hence you are not dead," Tranquil went on joyously, for it was he who had so cruelly frightened the monk; "follow me, you must be frozen, don't let us remain here."

And passing his arm through the monk's, he led him away; the latter followed him passively and mechanically, not able yet to understand what was happening to him, but still beginning to regain a small amount of courage. In a few minutes, they reached the clearing.

"Ah!" Carmela exclaimed in surprise; "Fray Antonio! By what accident is he here, when he started with the conducta de plata?"

This remark made the hunter prick his ears; he examined the monk attentively, and then compelled him to sit down by the fire.

"I trust that the good father will explain to us what has happened to him," he muttered.

Everything, however, has an end in this world; and the monk for some time past had seemed destined to pass, with the greatest rapidity and almost without transition, from the extremest terror to the most complete security. When he was a little warmed, the confusion produced in his ideas by the sudden meeting with the hunter gradually yielded to the cordial reception given him; and Carmela's gentle voice breaking pleasantly on his ear, completely re-established the balance of his mind, and dismissed the mournful apprehensions that tormented him.

"Do you feel better, holy Father?" Carmela asked him, with much sympathy.

"Yes," he said, "I thank you, I am now quite comfortable."

"All the better. Will you eat? Would you like to take any refreshment?"

"Nothing at all, I thank you, for I have not the least appetite."

"Perhaps you are thirsty, Fray Antonio; if so, here is a bota of refino," said Lanzi, as he offered him a skin more than half full of the comforting liquid.

The monk permitted himself to be persuaded sufficiently to prove that he was no lover of ardent spirits; then he allowed himself to be convinced, and seizing the bota, drank a hearty draught of the generous fluid. This libation restored him all his coolness and presence of mind.

"Then," he said, as he turned the bota to the half-breed, and gave vent to a sigh of relief, "Heaven preserve me; were the Evil One to come now in person, I feel capable of holding my own against him."

"Ah, ah!" said Tranquil, "It seems, my good father, as if you were now completely restored to the possession of your intellectual faculties."

"Yes, and I will give you the proof whenever you like."

"Hang it! You challenge me. I did not dare cross-question you before; but, as it is so, I will no longer hesitate."

"What do you wish to know?"

"A very simple matter: how it is that a monk finds himself at such an hour alone in the heart of the desert?"

"Nonsense," Fray Antonio said, gaily. "Who told you that I was alone?"

"Nobody; but I suppose so."

"Do not make any suppositions, brother, for you would be mistaken."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, as I have the honour of telling you."

"Still, when I met you, you were alone."

"Granted."

"Well?"

"The others were further off, that's all."

"What others?"

"The persons who accompanied me."

"Ah! And who are they?"

"That is the question – Nonsense," he said, a minute after, as if holding a conversation with himself, "the most disadvantageous reports are current about me. I am accused of a number of bad actions; suppose I were to try and do a good one, that might change my luck. Who knows whether I may not be rewarded at a later date? At any rate, here goes."

Tranquil and his comrades listened in extreme surprise to the monologue of the monk, not knowing exactly what to think of this man, and half inclined to deem him mad. The latter perceived the impression he produced on his hearers.

"Listen," he said, in a stern voice, and with a slight frown, "form what opinion of me you like, that is a matter of indifference to me; still I do not wish it to be said, that I requited your cordial hospitality by odious treachery."

"What do you mean?" Tranquil exclaimed.

"Listen to me. I uttered the word treachery, and perhaps I was wrong, for nothing proves to me that it is so; still, all sorts of reasons lead me to suppose that it is nothing else persons tried to force me into committing for your injury."

"Explain yourself, in Heaven's name; you speak in enigmas, and it is impossible to understand you."

"You are right, so I will be clear: which of you gentlemen bears the name of Tranquil?"

"It is I."

"Very good. Owing to certain circumstances, the recital of which would not at all interest you, I unluckily fell into the hands of the Apaches."

"Apaches!" Tranquil exclaimed, in surprise.

"Good Lord, yes," the monk continued; "and I assure you that when I found myself in their power, I did not feel at all comfortable. Still, I was wrong to be alarmed; far from inventing for me one of those atrocious tortures which they mercilessly inflict on the whites who are so unhappy as to become their prisoners, they treated me, on the contrary, with extreme gentleness."

Tranquil fixed a scrutinising glance on the monk's placid face.

"For what purpose did they that?" he asked, with a suspicious accent.

"Ah," Fray Antonio went on, "that I could not comprehend, though I am perhaps beginning to suspect it."

The hearers bent toward the speaker with an expression of impatient curiosity.

"This evening," the monk went on, "the Chief of the Redskins himself accompanied me to within a short distance of your bivouac; on coming in sight of your fire he pointed it out to me, saying, 'Go and sit down at that brasero. You will tell the great Pale hunter that one of his oldest and dearest friends desires to see him.' Then he left me, after making the most horrible threats if I did not obey him at once. You know the rest."

Tranquil and his comrades regarded each other in amazement, but without exchanging a word. There was a rather long silence; but Tranquil at length took on himself to express aloud the thought each had in his heart.

"'Tis a trap," he said.

"Yes," Loyal Heart remarked; "but for what purpose?"

"How do I know?" the Canadian muttered.

"You said, Fray Antonio," the young man continued, addressing the monk, "that you suspected the motives of the Apaches' extraordinary treatment of you?"

"I did say so," he replied.

"Let us know that suspicion."

"It was suggested to me by the conduct of the pagans, and by the clumsy snare they laid for you; it is evident to me that the Apache Chief hopes, if you consent to grant the interview he asks, to profit by your absence to carry off Doña Carmela."

"Carry me off!" the maiden exclaimed, with a start of horror, surprised and alarmed at once by this conclusion, which she was far from anticipating.

"The Redskins are very fond of white women," the monk continued, coolly; "most of the incursions they make into our territory are undertaken for the purpose of carrying off captives of that colour."

"Oh!" Carmela exclaimed, with an accent of indomitable resolution, "I would sooner die than become the slave of one of those ferocious demons."

Tranquil shook his head sadly. "The monk's supposition appears to me correct," he said.

"The more so," Fray Antonio confirmed him, "because the Apaches who made me prisoner are the same that attacked the Venta del Potrero."

"Oh, oh," said Lanzi, "in that case I know their Chief, and his name; he is one of the most implacable enemies of the white men. It is very unlucky that I did not succeed in burying him under the ruins of the venta, for Heaven is my witness that such was my intention."

"What is the fellow's name?" the hunter asked, sharply, evidently annoyed at his verbiage.

"Blue-fox!" said Lanzi.

"Ah," Tranquil said, ironically and with a dark frown, "I have known Blue-fox for many years, and you, Chief?" he added, turning to Black-deer.

The name of the Apache Sachem had produced such an impression on the Pawnee, that the hunter was startled by it. The Indians retain under all circumstances an apathetic mask, which they consider it an honour not to remove, whatever may happen; but the mere name of Blue-fox, pronounced as if by accident, was sufficient to melt that indifference, and cause Black-deer to forget Indian etiquette.

"Blue-fox is a dog, the son of a coyote," he said, as he spat on the ground disdainfully; "the gypaètes would refuse to devour his unclean carcase."

"These two men must have a mortal hatred for each other," the Canadian muttered, as he took a sideglance at the inflamed features and sparkling eyes of the Indian Chief.

"Will my brother kill Blue-fox?" the Pawnee asked.

"It is probable," Tranquil answered; "but in the first place, let us try to play this master rogue a trick, who fancies us stupid enough to be caught in the clumsy snares he lays in our path. Be frank, monk, have you told us the truth?"

"On my honour."

"I should prefer any other oath," the Canadian said ironically, in a low voice. "Can you be trusted?"

"Yes."

"Is what you said to us about your return to honest courses sincere?"

"Put me on my trial."

"That is what I intend to do; but reflect ere answering. Do you really intend to be of service to us?"

"I do."

"Whatever may happen?"

"Whatever may happen, and whatever the consequence may be of what you ask of me."

"That will do. I warn you that, in all probability, you will be exposed to serious perils."

"I have told you that my resolution is formed; speak, therefore, without further hesitation."

"Listen to me, then."

"I am doing so. Have no fear of finding me recoil, so cut it short."

"I will try to do so."

CHAPTER X.
THE LARCH-TREE HACIENDA

Though the report made by Quoniam was in every respect true, the Negro was ignorant of certain details of which we will now inform the reader, because these events are closely connected with our story, and clearness renders it indispensable that they should be made known. We will, therefore, return to the Larch-tree hacienda.

But, in the first place, let us explain the meaning of this word "hacienda," which we have employed several times in the course of this narrative, and which several authors have employed before us, without understanding its significance.

In Sonora, Texas, and all the old Spanish colonies generally, where the land is, as it were, left to anyone who likes to take possession of it and cultivate it, there may be found at immense distances, and broadcast like almost imperceptible dots over the waste lands, vast agricultural establishments, each as large as one of our counties. These establishments are called haciendas, a word we improperly translate by farm, which has not at all the same meaning.

Immediately after the conquest, the Cortez, Pizarros, Almagros, and other leaders of adventurers hastened to repay their comrades by dividing among them the lands of the conquered, following, perhaps without suspecting it, the example which had been given them a few centuries previously by the leaders of the Barbarians, after the break-up and dismemberment of the Roman Empire.

The conquerors were few in number, the shares were large; and the majority of these ragged conquerors, who in their own country had not even a roof to shelter their heads, found themselves all at once masters of immense domains, which they immediately set to work turning to account, laying down the sword without regret to take the pick, that is to say, compelling the Indians who had become their slaves to clear for them the land they had stolen.

The first care of the new possessors of the soil was to erect, in positions easy to defend, houses, whose lofty, thick, and embattled walls rendered them thorough fortresses, behind which they could easily defy any attempted revolt on the part of their slaves. The inhabitants had been allotted like the ground; each Spanish soldier received a considerable number as his share; arms cost nothing. There was no lack of stone, and hence the buildings were constructed of vast proportions, and of such extreme strength, that even at the present day, after the lapse of several centuries, these haciendas are an object of admiration to the traveller.

Slaves alone, for whom the measure of time no longer exists, and whose only hope is death, can undertake and complete these Cyclopean buildings, of which we, men of another age, cannot understand the existence on the globe, where they stand at various spots, like dumb and touching protests.

At the haciendas, in addition to agriculture, which, especially at the present day, has greatly fallen off, owing to the incessant invasions of the Indian bravos, the breeding of cattle and horses is carried on to a considerable extent. Hence, each of these farms contains an infinity of servants of all descriptions, peons, vaqueros, etc., and resembles a small town.

The owners of these establishments are consequently men belonging to the highest society, and the richest and most intelligent class in the country. The majority prefer residing in the cities, and visit only at long intervals their haciendas, the management of which they entrust to the major-domo and capataz, who are themselves semi-savages, whose life is spent in riding constantly from one end to the other of the hacienda.

The Larch-tree hacienda, but a short distance from the mountains whose passes it commanded, was therefore of great strategetical value to both the parties now disputing the possession of Texas. The insurgent chiefs understood this as well as the Mexican generals did.

After the total destruction of the detachment commanded by Captain Melendez, General Rubio hastened to throw a powerful garrison into the Larch-tree. As an old soldier of the Independence, accustomed to the incessant struggles of a people that desires to be free, he had divined the revolution behind the insurrection, on seeing that for ten years past these insurgents, though incessantly conquered, seemed to grow from their ashes again to return more obstinate and powerful than before, and expose their chests to the pitiless bullets of their oppressors.

He was aware that the inhabitants only awaited the announcement of a success, even though problematical, to rise to a man, and make common cause with the daring partisans, branded by their enemies with the name of Border ruffians, but who in reality were only the forlorn hope of a revolution, and apostles acting under a holy and noble idea. Far from offering Captain Melendez reproaches, which he knew that the latter did not deserve, the General pitied and consoled him.

"You have your revenge to take, Colonel," he said to him, for this grade, long deserved by the young officer, had just been given him by the President of the Republic; "your new epaulettes have not yet smelt powder. I propose giving you a splendid opportunity for christening them."

"You will fulfil my wishes, General," the young officer replied, "by entrusting me with a perilous enterprise, my success in which will serve to wipe out the shame of my defeat."

"There is no shame, Colonel," the General replied, kindly, "in being conquered as you were. War is only a game like any other, in which chance often declares for the weaker side; let us not despond at an insignificant check, but try, on the contrary, to cut the comb of these cocks who, pluming themselves on their ephemeral triumph, doubtless imagine that we are terrified and demoralised by their victory."

"Be assured, General, that I will help you to the best of my ability. Whatever be the post you confide to me, I will die at it before surrendering."

"An officer, my friend, must put off that impetuosity which so well becomes the soldier, but it is a grave fault in a Chief trusted with the lives of his fellow men. Do not forget that you are a head, and not an arm."

"I will be prudent, General, as far as the care for my honour will permit me."

"That will do, Colonel – I ask no more."

Don Juan merely bowed in response.

"By-the-bye," said the General, presently, "have these partisans any capable men at their head?"

"Very capable, General; thoroughly acquainted with guerilla fighting, and possessing a bravery and coolness beyond all praise."

"All the better, for in that case we shall reap more glory in conquering them. Unfortunately, they are said to wage war like perfect savages, pitilessly massacring the soldiers that fall into their hands; indeed, what has happened to you is a proof of it."

"You are mistaken, General. Whatever these men may be, and the cause for which they fight, it is my duty to enlighten and disabuse you, for they have been strangely calumniated; it was only after my repeated refusals to surrender that the action began. Their Chief even offered me my life at the moment when I hurled myself with him into the yawning abyss at our feet. When I became their prisoner they restored me my sword, gave me a horse and a guide, who brought me within musket shot of your outposts: is that the conduct of cruel men?"

"Certainly not, and I am pleased to see you thus do justice to your enemies."

"I merely declare a fact."

"Yes, and an unlucky one for us; these men must consider themselves very strong to act thus. This clemency of theirs will attract a great number of partisans to their ranks."

"I fear it."

"And I too. No matter, the moment has arrived to act with vigour; for, if we do not take care, within a week the very stones of this country, of which we are still the masters, will rise to expel us, and the ground will grow so hot under our feet, that we shall be compelled to fly before these undisciplined masses of badly armed guasos, who harass us like swarms of mosquitoes."

"I await your orders, General."

"Do you feel strong enough to mount again?"

"Perfectly."

"Very good, then. I have prepared three hundred men, cavalry and infantry; the latter will mount behind the horsemen, in order not to delay the march, which must be rapid, for my object is that you should reach the hacienda before the insurgents; and fortify yourself there."

"I will reach it."

"I count on you. Two mountain guns will follow your detachment, and will prove sufficient; for, if I am rightly informed, the hacienda has six in good condition. Still, as ammunition may run short, you will take sufficient with you to last for a fortnight. At all risks, the hacienda must hold out for that period against all the attacks the insurgents may make."

"It shall hold out, I swear it to you, General."

"I trust entirely to you."

The General walked to the entrance of the tent and raised the curtain.

"Summon the officers told off for the expedition," he said.

Five minutes later the officers appeared; nine in number – two captains of cavalry, two of infantry, two lieutenants, and two alferez or second lieutenants, and a captain, lieutenant, and alferez of artillery. The General looked for a moment searchingly at these men, who stood serious and motionless before him.

"Caballeros," he at length said, "I have carefully chosen you from the officers of my army, because I know that you are brave and experienced; you are about to carry out, under Colonel Don Juan Melendez de Gongora, a confidential mission, which I would not have given to others whose devotion to their country was less known to me. This mission is most perilous. I hope that you will accomplish it like brave men, and return here with glory."

The officers bowed their thanks.

"Do not forget," the General continued, "that you owe your soldiers an example of subordination and discipline; obey the Colonel as myself in all he may order for the good of the service and the success of your enterprise."

"We cannot desire a better Chief than the one your Excellency has selected to lead us," one of the Captains answered; "under his orders we are certain of performing prodigies."

The General smiled graciously.

"I count on your zeal and bravery. Now, to horse without further delay, for you must have left the camp within ten minutes."

The officers bowed and retired. Don Juan prepared to follow them.

"Stay," the General said to him; "I have one final recommendation to give you."

The young man walked up to him.

"Shut yourself up carefully in the place," the General went on. "If you are invested, do not attempt any of those sallies, which often compromise the fate of a garrison, without positive advantage. Content yourself with vigorously repulsing attacks, sparing the blood of your soldiers, and not expending your ammunition needlessly. So soon as my final arrangements are made, I will march in person to your help; but you must resist till then, at any cost."

"I have already told you I will do so, General."

"I know that you will. Now, my friend, to horse, and may you be fortunate."

"Thanks, General."

The Colonel bowed, and immediately withdrew to place himself at the head of the small band, which, collected a short distance off, only awaited his arrival to start. The General was standing in the doorway of his tent to witness their departure. Don Juan mounted, drew his sabre, and turned toward the motionless detachment.