The Pirates of the Prairies: Adventures in the American Desert

He stood for some minutes with his eye fixed on the spot where he suspected the cache, his mind agitated by undefinable feelings. At length he moderated his emotion, and his heart palpitating with fear and hope, carefully laid his blanket and buffalo robe by the cache to hold the earth, with that honesty innate in men accustomed to a prairie life, who, though they may be bandits and plunder the property of others unscrupulously, still consider it a point of honour not to squander it, or deprive the legal owner of anything but what is absolutely necessary to themselves; then he knelt down and with his knife removed a sod of grass.

It is impossible to describe the quiver and anxiety of this man when he first plunged his knife into the ground. He then carefully removed all the turf that seemed to him to form the outline of the cache. This first task ended, he rested for a moment to take breath, and at the same time to indulge in that emotion so full of pleasure and pain felt on accomplishing an act from which life or death depends.

After a quarter of an hour, he passed his hand over his dank forehead, and set to work resolutely, digging up the ground with his knife, and removing it with his hands to the blanket. It was really a rude task, especially for a man exhausted by fatigue and weakened by privations. Several times he was compelled to stop through the exhaustion of his strength: the work advanced slowly, and no sign as yet corroborated the squatter's belief.

Several times he was on the point of abandoning this vain search, but it was his only chance of safety; there alone, if he succeeded, would he find the means to become once more a wood ranger: hence he clung to this last plank of safety which chance offered him, with all the energy of despair, that Archimedean lever, which finds nothing impossible.

Still, the unhappy wretch had been digging for a long time; a large hole was gaping before him, but nothing offered him a prospect of success; hence, in spite of the invincible energy of his character, he felt despair invading his mind once again. A tear of impotent rage brooded in his fever-inflamed eyelids, and he hurled his knife into the hole, uttering an oath, and giving heaven a bitter look of defiance.

The knife sprung back with a metallic sound; the squatter seized it and examined it closely – the point was broken clean off.

He began digging again frenziedly with his nails, like a wild beast, disdaining the use of his knife any longer, and he soon laid bare a buffalo hide. Instead of lifting this skin at once, which doubtless covered all the treasures whose possession he coveted, he began gazing at it with terrible anxiety.

Red Cedar had not deceived himself: he had really discovered a cache. But what did it contain? Perhaps it had already been ransacked, and was empty. When he had only one movement to make, in order to assure himself, he hesitated – he was afraid!

During the three hours he had been toiling to reach this point, he had formed so many chimeras, that he instinctively feared to see them vanish suddenly, and fall back rudely into the frightful reality which held him in its iron claws.

For a long time he hesitated in this way; at length suddenly forming a resolve, with hands trembling with emotion, palpitating heart and bloodshot eye, he tore away the buffalo skin, with a movement rapid as thought. He felt dazzled, and uttered a roar like a wild beast – he had hit upon a thorough hunter's cache!

It contained iron traps of every description, rifles, double and single pistols, powder horns, bags filled with bullets, knives, and the thousand objects suitable for wood rangers.

Red Cedar felt himself born again: a sudden change took place in him, he became again the implacable and indomitable being he had been prior to the catastrophe, without fear or remorse, ready to recommence the struggle with all nature, and laughing at the perils and snares he might meet with on the road.

He selected the best rifle, two pairs of double-barrelled pistols, and a knife with a blade fifteen inches in length. He also took the necessary harness for a horse; two powder horns, a bag of bullets, and an elk skin game pouch richly embroidered in the Indian fashion, containing a tinderbox and all the necessaries for bivouacking. He also found pipes and tobacco, which he eagerly clutched, for his greatest privation had been the inability to smoke.

When he had loaded himself with all he thought he needed, he restored all to its primitive condition, and skilfully removed the traces which might have revealed to others the cache which had been so useful to himself. This duty of an honest man performed, Red Cedar threw his rifle over his shoulder, whistled to the dog, and went off hurriedly muttering:

"Ah, ah! You fancied you had forced the boar in its lair; we shall see whether it can take its revenge."

By what concourse of extraordinary events was the squatter, whom we saw enter the desert at the head of a numerous and resolute troop, reduced to such a state of urgent peril?

CHAPTER II

THE AMBUSCADE

We said at the close of the "Trail-Hunter," that another band entered the desert at the heels of the troop commanded by Red Cedar. This band, guided by Valentine Guillois, was composed of Curumilla, General Ibañez, Don Miguel Zarate, and his son. These men were not seeking a placer, but vengeance.

On reaching the Indian territory, the Frenchman looked inquiringly round him, and stopping his horse, turned to Don Miguel.

"Before going further," he said, "I think we had better hold a council, and settle a plan of campaign from which we will not deviate."

"My friend," the hacendero answered "you know that all our hopes rest on you: act, therefore, as you think advisable."

"Good," Valentine said; "this is the hour when the heat compels all living creatures in the desert to seek shelter under the shade of the trees, so we will halt; the spot where we now are is admirably suited for a day's bivouac."

"Be it so," the hacendero answered laconically.

The horsemen dismounted, and removed their horses' bits, so that the poor creatures might obtain a little nourishment by nibbling the scanty and parched grass which grew on this ungrateful soil. The spot was really admirably chosen: it was a large clearing traversed by one of those many nameless streams which intersect the prairie in every direction, and which, after a course of a few miles, go to swell the rivers in which they are lost. A dense dome of foliage offered the travellers an indispensable shelter against the burning beams of a vertical sun. Although it was about midday, the air in the clearing, refreshed by the exhalations of the stream, invited them to enjoy that day sleep so well called the siesta.

But the travellers had something more serious to attend to than sleep. As soon as all the precautions were taken against any possible attack, Valentine sat down at the foot of a tree, making his friends a sign to join him. The three whites immediately acquiesced, while Curumilla, according to his wont, went rifle in hand to the skirt of the clearing, to watch over the safety of all. After a few moments' reflection, Valentine took the word:

"Caballeros," he said, "the moment has arrived for a frank explanation: we are at present on the enemy's territory; the desert extends for more than two thousand miles around us. We shall have to fight not only with the white men or redskins we meet on our road, but also contend with hunger, thirst, and wild beasts of every description. Do not try to give my words any other meaning than that I myself attach to them. You have known me a long time, Don Miguel, and the friendship I have vowed to you."

"I know it, and thank you," Don Miguel said, gratefully.

"In short," Valentine continued, "no obstacle, of whatever nature it may be, will be powerful enough to check me in the mission I have undertaken."

"I am convinced of it, my friend."

"Good, but I am an old wood ranger; desert life, with its privations and perils, is perfectly familiar to me; the trail I am about to follow will only be child's play to me and the brave Indian, my companion."

"What are you coming to?" Don Miguel interrupted him anxiously.

"To this," the hunter frankly answered. "You caballeros, accustomed to a life of luxury and ease, will perchance not be able to endure the rude existence to which you are about to be condemned: in the first moment of grief you bravely rushed, without reflecting, in pursuit of the ravishers of your daughter, and without calculating the consequences of your deed."

"That is true," Don Miguel murmured.

"It is, therefore, my duty," Valentine went on, "to warn you: do not be afraid to withdraw; but be frank with me as I am with you: Curumilla and myself will suffice to carry out the task we have undertaken. The Mexican frontier stretches out about ten miles behind you; return to it, and leave to us the care of restoring your child to you, if you do not feel capable of braving, without giving way, the innumerable dangers that menace us. A sick man, by delaying our pursuit, would not only render it impossible for us to succeed, but might expose us all to the risk of being killed and scalped. Hence, reflect seriously, my friend, and putting away any question of self-esteem, give me an answer that allows me full liberty of action."

During this species of sermon, whose justice he recognised in his heart, Don Miguel had remained with his head bowed on his chest, and with frowning eyebrows. When Valentine ceased, the hacendero drew himself up and took the hunter's hand, which he pressed warmly, as he said —

"My friend, what you have said to me it was your duty to say: your remarks do not at all offend me, because they were dictated by the friendship you bear me. The observations you have made to me, I had already made to myself; but, whatever may happen, my resolution is immovable. I shall not turn back till I have found my daughter again."

"I knew that such would be your reply, Don Miguel," the hunter said. "A father cannot consent to abandon his daughter in the hands of bandits, without attempting all means to deliver her; still, it was my duty to make the remark I did. Hence we will not speak about it again, but prepare on the spot to draw up our plans of action."

"Oh, oh," the general said, with a laugh, "I am anxious to hear that."

"You will excuse me, general," Valentine answered; "but the war we carry on is completely different from that of civilised people; in the desert craft alone can triumph."

"Well, let us be crafty: I ask nothing better, especially as, with the slight forces we have at our disposal, I do not see how we could act otherwise."

"That is true," the hunter continued, "There are only five of us; but, believe me, five determined men are more dangerous than might be supposed, and I soon hope to prove it to our enemies."

"Well spoken, friend," Don Miguel said, gladly. "Cuerpo de Dios, those accursed Gringos shall soon realise that fact."

"We have," Valentine continued, "allies who will second us valiantly when the moment arrives: the Comanche nation proudly calls itself the 'Queen of the Prairies,' and its warriors are terrible enemies. Unicorn will not fail us, with his tribe; and we have also a friend in the enemy's camp in the Chief of the Coras."

"What are you saying?" the General gaily remarked. "Why, our success is insured."

Valentine shook his head.

"No," he said; "Red Cedar has allies too: the Pirates of the Prairies and the Apaches will join him, I feel convinced."

"Perhaps so," Don Miguel observed.

"Doubt is not admissible under the circumstances; the scalp hunter is too well used to a desert life not to try and get all the chances of success on his side."

"But, if that happen, it will be a general war," the hacendero said.