The Pirates of the Prairies Part 49

She drew a small box from her bosom and handed it to her companion.

"Take this, box," she continued. "I know not what it contains; but I took it from my father before escaping from his camp with your sister.

Keep it preciously, in order that, if Heaven allow us ever to meet again, you may restore it to me."

"I promise it."

"Now, Don Pablo, whatever may happen, know that I love you, and that your name will be the last word that pa.s.ses my lips."

"Oh! Let me believe, let me hope that one day perhaps--"

"Never!" she exclaimed, in her turn, with an accent impossible to describe. "However great my love may be, my father's blood will separate us eternally."

The young man bowed his head in despair at these words--a gloomy malediction, which enabled him to measure the depth of the abyss into which he had fallen. They continued their journey silently, side by side.

The Sachem of the Coras, as we said, acted as guide to the little party.

On reaching a spot where the path he followed took a sudden bend in the river bank, he stopped, and imitated the cry of the jay. At this signal, Valentine dug his spurs into his horse and galloped up to him.

"Is there anything new?" he asked.

"Nothing, except that in a few minutes we shall be opposite the islet where Red Cedar established his camp."

"Ah, ah!" said Valentine; "In that case we will halt."

The hunters dismounted, and concealed themselves in the shrubs; the utmost silence prevailed on the riverbank.

"Hum!" Valentine muttered; "I believe the bird has flown."

"We shall soon know," Eagle-wing replied.

Then, with that prudence characteristic of the men of his race, he stepped cautiously from tree to tree, and soon disappeared from his comrades' sight.

The latter awaited him motionless, and with their eyes fixed on the spot where he had vanished, as it were. They had long to wait, but at the end of an hour a slight rustling was audible in the shrubs, and the Indian rose before them. It was easy to see that he had emerged from the water, for his clothes were dripping.

"Well?" said Valentine.

"Gone!"

"All?"

"All."

"How long?"

"Two days at least! the fires are cold."

"I suspected it," said the hunter, as if speaking to himself.

"Oh!" Don Miguel exclaimed, "this demon will constantly escape us."

"Patience," Valentine replied. "Unless he has glided through the river like a fish, or risen in the air like a bird, we shall find his trail again--I swear it."

"But what shall we do?"

"Wait," said the hunter. "It is late, we will pa.s.s the night here; tomorrow, at daybreak, we will start in pursuit of our enemy."

Don Miguel sighed, and made no answer. The preparations for a hunter's bivouac are not lengthy. Harry and Eagle-wing lit a fire, unsaddled and hobbled the horses, and then the supper was got ready. With the exception of Don Miguel and his son, who ate but little, though for different reasons, the hunters did honour to the frugal meal, which the fatigues of the day caused them to find delicious. So soon as the supper was over, Valentine threw his rifle on his shoulder, and gave Curumilla a sign to follow him.

"Where are you going?" Don Miguel asked.

"To the isle where the gambusinos' camp was."

"I will go with you."

"Hang it all! And so will I," said the general.

"Very good."

The four men set out, and only Don Pablo, Ellen, the Chief of the Coras, and Harry were left in the encampment. So soon as the footsteps of the hunters had died out in the distance, Ellen turned to Don Pablo.

"The time has arrived," she said.

The Mexican could not repress a nervous start.

"You wish it?" he answered her, sadly.

"It must be," she continued, stifling a sigh.

She rose and walked up to Harry.

"Brother, I am going," she said.

"It is well," the hunter replied.

Without any further explanation, he saddled two horses, and waited with apparent indifference. Moukapec slept, or feigned to sleep. Ellen offered her hand to Don Pablo, and said, in a trembling voice--

"Farewell!"

"Oh!" the young man exclaimed, "Remain, Ellen, I implore you!"

The squatter's daughter shook her head sadly.

"I must rejoin my father," she murmured; "Don Pablo, let me go."

"Ellen! Ellen!"

"Farewell, Don Pablo!"

"Oh!" he said, in his despair, "Can nothing move you?"