Gustave Aimard
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War

"Forward!" he commanded.

The squadrons at once started, and began drawing out in the darkness like the black folds of an ill-omened serpent. The General remained in the doorway of his tent for some time, and when the last sound had died away in the night, he pensively re-entered the tent, and let the curtain fall behind him, muttering in a low and sad voice —

"I have sent them to death, for Heaven fights on the side of our adversaries."

And, after shaking his head several times with an air of discouragement, the old soldier of the war of Independence fell into an equipal, hid his face in his hands, and plunged into serious reflections.

In the meanwhile, the detachment rapidly continued its march. Thanks to the Mexican fashion of mounting infantry en croupe, the troops carried out their movements with a rapidity that seemed almost prodigious, the more so as American horses go very quickly, and endure great fatigue without injury.

The Americans of the South are generally very harsh to their horses, to which they pay no attention. Never in the interior does a horse pass the night, whatever the weather may be, otherwise than in the open air. Every morning it receives its ration for the whole day, marching frequently fourteen, or even sixteen hours, without stopping or drinking; when evening arrives, the harness is removed, and it is left to find its food where it can. On the Indian border, where there is much to fear from the Redskins, who are great admirers of horses, and display admirable skill in stealing them, certain precautions are used at night; the horses are picquetted in the interior of the bivouac, and feed on the pea vines, the young tree shoots, and a few measures of maize or other corn, which is given with extreme parsimony. Still, in spite of the careless way in which they are treated, we repeat that these horses are very handsome, vigorous, remarkably docile, and of great speed.

Colonel Melendez arrived at an early hour in sight of the hacienda, for his troops had made a forced march through the night. With a rapid glance the experienced Chief of the Mexicans examined the neighbourhood, but the plain was deserted.

The Larch-tree hacienda stood like an eagle's nest on the top of a hillock, whose abrupt sides had never been smoothed, as the steepness of their ascent was regarded as a means of defence in the event of an attack. Thick walls turned yellow by time, at each angle of which could be seen the threatening muzzles of two guns peering out, gave this strongly-built house the appearance of a real fortress.

The Mexicans increased their already rapid pace, in order to reach the hacienda before the gates were opened, and the ganado let out. The scene presented by this magnificent plain at sunrise, had something imposing about it. The hacienda, whose roof was still veiled in mist; the gloomy forests in the distance, which ran with almost imperceptible undulations along the spurs of the sierra; the silvery thread of a small stream, which wound with capricious meanderings through the plain, and whose waters sparkled in the hot sunbeams; the dumps of larches, sumachs, and Peru trees, which rose here and there from amid the tall grass, and agreeably broke the monotony of the plain, while from the thickets rose the joyous song of the birds saluting the return of day – in a word, all seemed to breathe repose and happiness in this abode momentarily so tranquil.

The Mexicans reached the hacienda, whose gates were not opened till the inhabitants were well assured that the newcomers were really friends. They had already heard of the general insurrection occasioned by the surprise of the conducta de plata, and hence the Major-domo, who commanded in the absence of Don Felipe de Valreal, proprietor of the hacienda, kept on his guard.

This Major-domo, whose name was Don Felix Paz, was a man of about five-and-forty at the most, tall, well-built, and powerful; he had, in truth, the appearance of a perfect hombre de a caballo, an essential condition for fulfilling his onerous duties. This Major-domo came in person to receive the Mexican detachment at the gate of the hacienda. After congratulating the Colonel, he informed him that so soon as he received the news of the general revolt of the province, he had brought all his cattle in, armed the servants, and rendered the guns on the platform serviceable.

The Colonel complimented him on his diligence, established his troops in the outhouses destined for the peons and vaqueros, took military possession of all the posts, and, accompanied by the Major-domo, made a strict inspection of the interior of the fortress. Don Juan Melendez, being well acquainted with the carelessness and sloth of his fellow countrymen, expected to find the hacienda in a wretched state, but was agreeably deceived. This large estate, situated on the limits of the desert, as it were between civilisation and barbarism, was too exposed to the unforeseen attacks of Redskins and bandits of every description who congregate on the border, for its owner not to watch with the utmost care over its defence. This wise foresight was at this moment of a great utility for the siege which, in all probability, they would have to withstand ere long.

The Colonel found but very little to alter in the arrangements made by the Major-domo; he contented himself with cutting down several clumps of trees which, being situated too near the hacienda, might shelter sharpshooters, who could annoy their artillery men. At each entrance of the hacienda barricades were erected by his orders, composed of branches interlaced, and outside the walls the arms of all the healthy men were called into requisition, to dig a deep and wide trench, the earth from which, thrown up on the side of the hacienda, formed a breast-work, behind which the best shots in the garrison were placed. The two mountain guns brought by the Colonel remained horsed, so that they might be transported to the point of danger. Finally, the Mexican flag was haughtily hoisted on the top of the hacienda.

Counting the servants, to whom Don Felix had distributed arms, the garrison amounted to nearly four hundred men, a sufficient force to resist a coup de main, especially in so good a position as this; there was plenty of ammunition and food; the Mexicans were animated by the best spirit, and the Colonel, therefore, felt certain of being able to hold out for a fortnight against troops more numerous and experienced than those the insurgents had at their disposal.

The works of fortification were carried on with such great activity, that they were completed within twenty-four hours of the Colonel's arrival at the hacienda. The scouts, sent out in all directions, came back without any fresh news of the insurgents, whose movements were so cleverly veiled, that, since the affair of the conducta, they seemed to have disappeared without leaving a trace, and buried themselves in the bowels of the earth.

This complete want of news, far from reassuring the Colonel, on the contrary, augmented his anxiety. This factitious tranquillity, this gloomy silence of the landscape, seemed to him more menacing than if he had heard of the approach of the enemy, whose masses, however, he felt, by a species of secret intuition, were gradually drawing in round the post he had been selected to defend.

It was the second day after the arrival of the Mexicans at the Larch-tree; the sun was disappearing behind the mountains in masses of gold; night would soon set in. Colonel Melendez and the Major-domo, leaning on one of the battlements of the platform, were absently gazing out on the immense landscape unrolled at their feet, while conversing together. Don Juan had in a few minutes appreciated the loyalty and intelligence of the Major-domo; hence these two men, who thoroughly understood each other, had become friends.

"Another day past," said the Colonel, "and it has been impossible for us yet to learn the movements of the insurgents. Does not that appear extraordinary to you, Don Felix?"

The Major-domo sent forth a cloud of smoke from his mouth and nostril, took his husk cigarette from his mouth, and quietly flipped away the ash.

"Very extraordinary," he said, without turning his head, and continuing to look fixedly at the sky.

"What a singular man you are! Nothing disturbs you," Don Juan went on half angrily, "Have all our scouts returned?"

"All."

"And still brought no news?"

"None."

"By Heaven! Your coolness would make a saint swear! What are you looking at so fixedly in the sky? Do you fancy you can find the information we require there?"

"Perhaps so," the Major-domo replied seriously. Then extending his hand in a north-east direction, he said —

"Look there."

"Well?" the Colonel said looking in the direction indicated.

"Do you see nothing?"

"On my honour, no."

"Not even those flocks of herons and flamingos flying in large circles, and uttering shrill cries which you can hear from here?"

"Certainly I see birds; but what have they in common – ?"

"Colonel," the Major-domo interrupted him, turning and drawing himself up to his full height; "prepare to defend yourself; the enemy is there."

"What – the enemy? you are mad, Don Felix; look out in the last gleams of day, the plain is deserted."

"Colonel, before becoming Major-domo at the Larch-tree hacienda, I was a wood ranger for fifteen years; the desert is to me a book, every page of which I can peruse. Watch the timid flight of those birds, notice the numberless flocks which are constantly joining those we first perceived; those birds, driven from their nests, are flying haphazard before an enemy who will soon appear. That enemy is the insurgent army, whose masses will soon be visible to us, probably preceded by fire."

"Rayo de Dios, Don Felix," the Colonel suddenly exclaimed; "you are right, look there!"

A red line, momentarily growing wider, suddenly appeared on the extreme verge of the horizon.

"Did the flight of the birds deceive us?" the Major-domo asked.

"Forgive me, friend, a very excusable ignorance, but we have not a moment to lose."

They went down at once; five minutes later the defenders of the hacienda lined the tops of the walls, and ambushed themselves behind the exterior intrenchments. The Texan army, now perfectly visible, was deploying on the plains in heavy columns.

CHAPTER XI.
A METAMORPHOSIS

We must now go back for some days, and return to the encampment of the hunters, whom we left in a most awkward position, watched by the vigilant eye of the Apaches, and compelled to trust temporarily to Fray Antonio, that is to say, to a man for whom, in his heart, not one of them felt the slightest sympathy. Still, had it been possible to read the monk's mind, their opinion about him would probably have been completely changed.

A revolution had taken place in this man's mind, and he had been unconsciously overcome by that influence which upright natures ever exert over those which have not yet been entirely spoiled. However, whatever was the cause of the change which had taken place almost suddenly in the monk's ideas, we are bound to state that it was sincere, and that Fray Antonio really intended to serve his new friends, whatever the consequences might be to himself.

Tranquil, accustomed, through the desert life he led, to discover with a certain degree of skill the true feelings of persons with whom accident brought him in contact, thought it his duty to appear to trust, under present circumstances, entirely on the monk, though he might not give perfect credence to his protestations of devotion.

"Are you brave?" he asked him, continuing the conversation.

Fray Antonio, surprised by the sudden question, hesitated for a moment.

"That depends," he said.

"Good; that is the answer of a sensible man. There are moments when the bravest is afraid, and no man can answer for his courage."

The monk gave a sign of assent.

"We have," Tranquil continued, "to cheat the cheater, and play at diamond cut diamond with him; you understand me?"

"Perfectly. Go on."

"Very good. Return to Blue-fox,"

"What?"

"Are you afraid?"

"Not exactly; but I fancy he may proceed to extremities with me."

"That is a risk to be run."

"Well, be it so," he exclaimed resolutely, "I will run it."

The Canadian looked fixedly at him.

"That will do," he said to him. "Here, take these, and, at any rate, if you are attacked, you will not die unavenged."

And he put a brace of pistols in his hand. The monk examined them attentively for a moment, turning them over so as to assure himself that they were in good state, then he hid them under his gown with a start of joy.

"I fear nothing now," he said; "I am going."

"Still I must explain to you – "

"For what good purpose?" the monk interrupted him. "I will tell Blue-fox that you consent to have an interview with him; but, as you do not care to go alone to his camp, you prefer seeing him without witnesses in the middle of the prairie."

"That will do, and you will bring him with you to the spot where I shall be waiting."

"I will try, at any rate."

"That is what I mean."

"But where will you wait for him?"

"On the skirt of the forest."

"All right."

"One parting hint."

"Out with it."

"Keep a few paces from the Chief, not before or behind, but on his right hand, if possible."

"Very good; I understand."

"Well, I trust you will succeed."

"Oh, now I fear nothing, as I am armed."

After uttering these words, the monk rose and walked away with a quick and firm step. The Canadian looked after him for some time.

"Is he a traitor?" he muttered.

"I do not think so," Loyal Heart answered.

"May Heaven grant it!"

"What is your plan?"

"It is simple: we can only triumph over the enemies who surround us by stratagem; hence, that is the only thing I intend employing. We must escape from these red demons at all hazards."

"That is true. But, when we have succeeded in throwing them out, where shall we go?"

"We must not dream, in the present excited state of the country, of making a long journey across the desert with two females; it would be running certain ruin."

"That is true; but what can we do?"

"It is my intention to proceed to the Larch-tree hacienda. There, I fancy, my daughter will obtain the best protection for the present."

"Permit me to remind you that yourself refused to have recourse to that."

"That is true; hence I only resolve on it when in a fix. As for you – "

"Oh, I will accompany you," Loyal Heart quickly interrupted him.

"Thanks," the Canadian exclaimed, warmly. "Still, in spite of all the pleasure your generous offer occasions me, I cannot accept it."

"Why not?"

"Because the nation which had adopted you claims your help, and you cannot refuse it."

"It will wait; besides, Black-deer will make my excuses."

"No," the Chief said, distinctly; "I will not leave my Pale friends in danger."

"By Jove!" Tranquil exclaimed joyously, "As it is so, we shall have some fun; hang it all, if five resolute and well-armed men cannot get the best of a hundred Apaches. Listen to me, comrades: while I go ostensibly to the meeting I have granted Blue-fox, follow me in Indian file, and be ready to appear directly I give you the signal by imitating the cry of the mockingbird."

"All right."

"You, Lanzi and Quoniam, will watch over Carmela."

"We will all watch over her, friend, trust to us," said Loyal Heart.

Tranquil gave his comrades a parting farewell, threw his rifle over his shoulder, and left the encampment. He had hardly disappeared ere the hunters lay down on the ground, and crawled on his trail, Carmela guided by Singing-bird forming the rearguard. The maiden felt an involuntary shudder run over her limbs as she entered the forest. This night march, whose issue might prove so fatal, terrified her, and suggested gloomy forebodings, which she feared to see realised at every step.

In the meanwhile Fray Antonio continued his journey, and soon emerged from the forest. Far from his resolution being shaken, the nearer he drew to the Apaches he felt it, on the contrary, become firmer. The monk was eager to prove to the hunters that he was worthy the confidence they placed in him; and if at times the thought of the dangers to which he exposed himself crossed his mind, he drove it off, being determined to risk his life, if needed, in saving Doña Carmela, and preventing her falling into the hands of the cruel enemies who were preparing to seize her.

Fray Antonio had gone hardly five hundred yards from the forest, when a man suddenly emerged from a thicket and barred his passage. The monk suppressed with difficulty a cry of terror at this unexpected apparition, and started back. But immediately regaining his coolness, he prepared to sustain the terrible contest that doubtless menaced him, for he had recognised Blue-fox at the first glance. The Chief examined him in silence, fixing on him his deep black eye with an expression of suspicion which did not escape the monk.

"My father has been a long time," he at length said, harshly.

"I could not be any quicker," the monk answered.

"Wah! My father returns alone; the great Pale warrior was afraid; he did not accompany my father."

"You are mistaken, Chief; the man you call the great Pale hunter, and whom I call Tranquil, was not afraid, and did not refuse to accompany me."

"Och! Blue-fox is a Sachem; his eye pierces the thickest darkness; though he may look he sees nothing."

"That is probably because you do not look in the right direction, that's all."

"My father will explain. Blue-fox desires to know how his Pale friend carried out the mission the Sachem confided to him."

"I took the best advantage possible of my meeting with the hunter, in order to carry out the orders I had received."

"My father will pardon me, I am only a poor Indian without brains; things must be repeated to me several times before I can understand them. Will the great Pale hunter come?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"At once."

"Where is he then?"

"I left him over there, at the verge of the forest. He is waiting for the Chief."

Blue-fox started at this remark, and fixed on the monk a glance which seemed trying to read the most secret thoughts of his heart.

"Why did he not accompany my father here?" he said.

The monk assumed the most simple look possible.

"On my faith, I do not know," he answered; "but of what consequence is it?"

"It is pleasanter to converse on the prairie."

"Do you think so? Well, it is possible. For my part I do not see any difference between here and there."

This was said with such apparent carelessness, that, in spite of all his craft, the Chief was deceived.

"Has the great Pale hunter come alone?"

"No," Fray Antonio replied, boldly.

"If that be so, Blue-fox will not go."

"The Chief will reflect."

"What is the use of reflecting? The father has deceived his Red friend."

"The hunter could not come alone."

"Why not?"

"Because he did not wish to leave in the forest the girl who accompanies him."

The Indian's face suddenly brightened, and assumed an expression of extraordinary cunning.

"Wah!" he said, "And no other person but the young Pale virgin accompanies the hunter?"

"No. It seems that the other white warriors who were with him left him at daybreak."

"Does my father know where they are gone?"

"I did not inquire. That does not concern me. Every man has enough business of his own without troubling himself about that of others."

"My father is a wise man."

The monk made no reply to this compliment.

These words were rapidly exchanged between the two men. Fray Antonio had answered so naturally, and with such well-played frankness, that the Indian, whose secret thoughts the Mexican's answers flattered, felt all his suspicions vanish, and went, head down, into the snare so adroitly laid for him.

"Och!" he said, "Blue-fox will see his friend."

"The father can return to the camp of the Apache warriors."

"No, thank you, Chief," the monk answered, resolutely, "I prefer remaining with people of my own colour."

Blue-fox reflected for an instant, and then replied, with an ironical smile playing round his thin lips —

"Good; my father is right. He can follow me, then."

"It is evident," the monk thought to himself, "that this accursed pagan is devising some treachery. But I will watch him, and at the slightest suspicious movement I will blow out his brains like the dog he is."

But he kept these reflections to himself, and followed the Chief with an easy and perfectly indifferent air. In the moonbeams, which allowed objects to be distinguished for a considerable distance, they soon perceived, on the extreme verge of the forest, the dark outline of a man leaning on a rifle.

"Ah," the Chief said, "we must make ourselves known."

"That need not trouble you. I take it on myself to warn the hunter when the time arrives."

"Good," the Indian muttered, and they continued to advance.

Blue-fox, though he placed confidence in his companion, only advanced, however, with extreme caution and prudence, examining the shrubs, and even the smallest tufts of grass, as if assuring himself that they concealed no enemy. But, with the exception of the man they perceived before them, the place seemed plunged in profound solitude; all was calm and motionless; no unusual sound troubled the silence.

"Let us stop here," said Fray Antonio, "it would be imprudent for us to advance further without announcing ourselves, although the hunter has probably recognized us already; for, as you perceive, Chief, he has not made the slightest move."

"That is true, but it is as well to be cautious," the other replied.

They stopped at about twenty yards from the covert, where Fray Antonio placed his hands funnel-wise on either side his mouth, and shouted at the full extent of his lungs —

"Hilloh! Tranquil, is that you?"

"Who calls me?" the latter immediately answered.

"I – Fray Antonio. I am accompanied by the person you are expecting."

"Advance without fear," Tranquil replied. "Those who seek me without any intention of treachery have nothing to fear from me."

The monk turned to the Apache Chief. "What shall we do?" he asked him.

"Go on," the latter replied, laconically.

The distance which separated them from the hunter was soon covered; and the Mexican becoming an impromptu master of the ceremonies, presented the two men to each other. The Sachem took a searching glance around him.

"I do not see the young Pale girl," he said.

"Did you wish to speak to her or to me?" the Canadian answered, drily. "I am ready to listen to you. What have you to say to me?"

The Indian frowned; his suspicions were returning; he gave a menacing glance at the monk, who, obeying the advice given him, had insensibly withdrawn a few steps, and was preparing to be an apparently calm witness of the coming scene. Still, after an internal conflict of some seconds, the Sachem succeeded in mastering the wrath that agitated him, and assumed an affable and confiding countenance.

"I only wished to speak to my brother," he replied, in an insinuating voice; "Blue-fox has for many moons desired to see again the face of a friend."

"If it were really as the Chief says," the hunter continued, "nothing could have been more easy. Many days have succeeded one to the other; many years have been swallowed up in the immense gulf of the past, since the period when, young and full of faith, I called Blue-fox my friend. At that period he had a Pawnee heart; but now that he has plucked it from his bosom, to exchange it for an Apache heart, I know him no longer."

"The great hunter of the Palefaces is severe to his Red brother," the Indian answered, with feigned humility, "What matter the days that have passed, if the hunter finds again his friend of the olden time?"

The Canadian smiled disdainfully as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Am I an old woman, to be deceived by the smooth words of a forked tongue?" he said. "Blue-fox is dead; my eyes only see here an Apache Chief, that is to say, an enemy."

"Let my brother remove the skin from his heart, he will recognise a friend," the Indian continued, still in a honeyed voice.

Tranquil involuntarily felt impatient at such cynical impudence.

"A truce to fine speeches, whose sincerity I do not believe in," he said. "Was he my friend who a few days ago tried to carry off my daughter, and at the head of his warriors attacked the calli in which she dwelt, and which is now reduced to ashes?"

"My brother has heard the mockingbird whisper in his ear, and put faith in its falsehoods; the mocker is a chattering and lying bird."

"You are more chattering and lying than the mocker," Tranquil exclaimed, as he violently stamped the butt of his rifle on the ground. "For the last time I repeat to you that I regard you not as a friend, but as an enemy. Now, we have nothing more to say to one another, so let us separate, for this unpleasant conference has already lasted too long."

The Indian took a piercing glance around him, and his eye sparkled ferociously.

"We will not part thus," he said, as he walked two or three steps nearer the hunter, who still remained motionless. The latter attentively followed his every movement, while affecting the most perfect confidence.

As for Fray Antonio, through certain signs that do not deceive men accustomed to Indian tricks, he understood that the moment for acting vigorously was fast approaching, and while continuing to feign the most perfect indifference to the interview of which he was witness, he had quietly drawn the pistols from under his gown, and held them cocked in his hand, ready to employ them at the first alarm. The situation was growing most awkward between the two speakers: each was preparing for the struggle, although the faces were still calm and their voices gentle.

"Yes," Tranquil continued, without displaying the slightest emotion, "we will part thus, Chief, and may Heaven grant that we may never find ourselves face to face again."

"Before separating, the hunter will answer one question."

"I will not, for this conversation has lasted too long already. Farewell!"

And he fell back a pace. The Sachem stretched forth his arm to stop him.

"One word!"

"I will not," the Canadian replied.

"Then die, miserable dog of a Paleface," the Chief exclaimed, at length throwing off the mask and brandishing his tomahawk with extreme rapidity.

But at the same instant a man rose like a black phantom behind the Apache Chief, threw his arms round his body, and lifting him with wondrous strength, hurled him to the ground, and placed his knee on his chest, ere the Sachem, surprised and alarmed by this sudden attack, had attempted to defend himself.

At the yell uttered by Blue-fox, some fifty Apache warriors appeared as if by enchantment, but almost at the same moment the hunter's comrades, who, although invisible, had attentively followed the incidents of this scene, stood by the Canadian's side. Fray Antonio, from whom they were far from expecting such resolution, brought down two Apaches with his pistols, and rejoined the Whites.

Two groups of implacable enemies were thus opposed; unfortunately, the hunters were very weak against the numerous foes that surrounded them on all sides. Still, their firm demeanour and flashing eyes evidenced their unbending resolution to let themselves be killed to the last man, sooner than surrender to the Redskins.

It was an imposing spectacle offered by this handful of men surrounded by implacable foes, and who yet seemed as calm as if they were peaceably seated round their campfire. Carmela and Singing-bird, suffering from sharp pangs of terror, pressed all in a tremor to the side of their friends.

Blue-fox still lay on the ground, held down by Black-deer, whose knee compressed his chest, and neutralised all the tremendous efforts he made to rise. The Apaches, with their long barbed arrows pointed at the hunters, only awaited a word or a sign to begin the attack. A silence of death brooded over the prairie: it seemed as if these men, before tearing each other to pieces, were collecting all their strength to bound forward and rush on each other. Black-deer was the first to break the silence.

"Wah!" he shouted, in a voice rendered hoarse with passion, as he brandished over his enemy's head his scalping knife, whose blade emitted sinister gleams; "at length I meet thee, dog, thief, chicken heart; I hold my vengeance in my hands; at last thy scalp will adorn my horse's mane."

"Thou art but a chattering old woman; thy insults cannot affect me, so try something else. Blue-fox laughs at thee; thou can'st not compel him to utter a cry of pain or make a complaint."

"I will follow thy advice," Black-deer shouted, passionately, and seized his enemy's scalp lock.

"Stop, I insist," the Canadian shouted, in a thundering voice, as he seized the arm of the vindictive Chief.

The latter obeyed.

"Let that man rise," Tranquil continued.

Black-deer gave him a ferocious glance, but made no reply.

"It must be so," the hunter said.

The Comanche Chief bent his head, restored his enemy to liberty, and fell back a pace. With one bound Blue-fox sprang up; but, instead of attempting flight, he crossed his arms on his chest, resumed that mask of impenetrable stoicism which Indians so rarely doff, and waited. Tranquil regarded him for a moment with a singular expression, and then said —

"I was wrong just now, and my brother must pardon me. No, the memories of youth are not effaced like clouds which the wind bears away. When I saw the terrible danger that menaced Blue-fox, my heart was affected, and I remembered that we had been for a long time friends. I trembled to see his blood flow before me. Blue-fox is a great Chief, he must die as a warrior in the sunshine, he is free to rejoin his friends; he can go."

The Chief raised his head.

"On what conditions?" he said, drily.

"On none. If the Apache warriors attack us, we will fight them; if not, we will continue our journey peacefully. The Chief must, decide, for events depend on his will."

Tranquil, in acting as he had done, had furnished an evident proof of the profound knowledge he possessed of the character of the Redskins, among whom any heroic action is immediately appreciated at its full value. It was a dangerous game to play, but the situation of the hunters was desperate, despite their courage; if the fight had begun, they must have been naturally crushed by numbers, and pitilessly massacred. For the success of his plan the Canadian could only calculate on a good feeling on the part of Blue-fox, and he had staked his all.