The Scalp Hunters Part 66

"Well? upon the fourth?"

"They will roast us!"

We might have been more startled at this abrupt declaration had the idea been new to us, but it was not. The probability of such an end had been in our thoughts ever since our capture. We knew that they did not save us at the mine for the purpose of giving us an easier death; and we knew, too, that these savages never made men prisoners to keep them alive. Rube was an exception; but his story was a peculiar one, and he escaped only by his extreme cunning. "Their G.o.d," continued Sanchez, "is the same as that of the Mexican Aztecs; for these people are of that race, it is believed. I don't know much about that, though I've heard men talk of it. He is called by a queer, hard name. Carrai! I don't remember it."

"Quetzalcoatl?"

"Caval! that's the word. Pues, senores; he is a fire-G.o.d, and fond of human flesh; prefers it roasted, so they say. That's the use we'll be put to. They'll roast us to please him, and at the same time to satisfy themselves. Dos pajaros al un golpe!" (Two birds with one stone.)

That this was to be our fate was no longer probable, but certain; and we slept upon the knowledge of it the best way we could.

In the morning we observed dressing and painting among the Indians.

After that began dancing, the dance of the mamanchic.

This ceremony took place upon the prairie, at some distance out in front of the temple.

As it was about commencing, we were taken from our spread positions and dragged up near it, in order that we might witness the "glory of the nation."

We were still tied, however, but allowed to sit upright. This was some relief, and we enjoyed the change of posture much more than the spectacle.

I could not describe the dance even if I had watched it, which I did not. As Sanchez had said, it was carried on only by the women of the tribe. Processions of young girls, gaily and fantastically attired, and carrying garlands of flowers, circled and leaped through a variety of figures. There was a raised platform, upon which a warrior and maiden represented Montezuma and his queen, and around these the girls danced and chanted. The ceremony ended by the dancers kneeling in front, in a grand semicircle. I saw that the occupants of the throne were Dacoma and Adele. I fancied that the girl looked sad.

"Poor Seguin!" thought I: "there is none to protect her now. Even the false father, the medicine chief, might have been her friend. He, too, is out of the way, and--"

But I did not occupy much time with thoughts of her; there was a far more painful apprehension than that. My mind, as well as my eyes, had dwelt upon the temple during the ceremony. We could see it from the spot where we had been thrown down; but it was too distant for me to distinguish the faces of the white females that were cl.u.s.tered along its terraces. She no doubt was among them, but I was unable to make her out. Perhaps it was better I was not near enough. I thought so at the time.

I saw Indian men among the captives; and I had observed Dacoma, previous to the commencement of the dance, proudly standing before them in all the paraphernalia of his regal robes.

Rube had given me the character of this chief: brave, but brutal. My heart was oppressed with a painful heaviness as we were hurried back to our former places.

Most of the next night was spent by the Indians in feasting. Not so with us. We were rarely and scantily fed; and we suffered, too, from thirst, our savage guards scarcely deigning to supply us with water, though a river Was running at our feet.

Another morning, and the feasting recommenced. More sheep and cattle were slaughtered, and the fires steamed anew with the red joints that were suspended over them.

At an early hour the warriors arrayed themselves, though not in war attire, and the tournament commenced. We were again dragged forward to witness their savage sports, but placed still farther out on the prairie.

I could distinguish, upon the terrace of the temple, the whitish dresses of the captives. The temple was their place of abode.

Sanchez had told me this. He had heard it from the Indians as they conversed one with another. The girls were to remain there until the fifth day, that after our sacrifice. Then the chief would choose one of the number for his own household, and the warriors would "gamble" for the rest! Oh, these were fearful hours!

Sometimes I wished that I could see her again once before I died. And then reflection whispered me, it was better not. The knowledge of my fate would only add fresh bitterness to hers. Oh, these were fearful hours!

I looked at the savage tournament. There were feats of arms and feats of equitation. Men rode at a gallop, with one foot only to be seen over the horse, and in this att.i.tude threw the javelin or shot the unerring shaft. Others vaulted from horse to horse, as they swept over the prairie at racing speed. Some leaped to their saddles, while their horses were running at a gallop, and some exhibited feats with the la.s.so. Then there was a mock encounter, in which the warriors unhorsed each other, as knights of the olden time.

It was, in fact, a magnificent spectacle--a grand hippodrome of the desert; but I had no eyes for it.

It had more attraction for Sanchez. I saw that he was observing every new feat with interested attention. All at once he became restless.

There was a strange expression on his face; some thought, some sudden resolve, had taken possession of him.

"Say to your braves," said he, speaking to one of our guards in the Navajo tongue; "say that I can beat the best of them at that. I could teach them to ride a horse."

The savage reported what his prisoner had said, and shortly after several mounted warriors rode up, and replied to the taunt.

"You! a poor white slave, ride with the warriors of Navajo! Ha! ha!

ha!"

"Can you ride upon your head?" inquired the torero.

"On our heads? How?"

"Standing upon your head while your horse is in a gallop."

"No; nor you, nor anyone. We are the best riders on the plains; we cannot do that."

"I can," affirmed the bull-fighter, with emphasis.

"He is boasting! he is a fool," shouted several.

"Let us see!" cried one. "Give him a horse; there is no danger."

"Give me my own horse, and I will show you."

"Which is your horse?"

"None of them now, I suppose; but bring me that spotted mustang, and clear me a hundred lengths of him on the prairie, and I shall teach you a trick."

As I looked to ascertain what horse Sanchez meant, I saw the mustang which he had ridden from the Del Norte. I noticed my own favourite, too, browsing with the rest.

After a short consultation among themselves, the torero's request was acceded to. The horse he had pointed out was la.s.soed out of the caballada and brought up, and our comrade's thongs were taken off. The Indians had no fear of his escaping. They knew that they could soon overtake such a steed as the spotted mustang; moreover, there was a picket constantly kept at each entrance of the valley. Even could he beat them across the plains, it would be impossible for him to get out to the open country. The valley itself was a prison.

Sanchez was not long in making his preparations. He strapped a buffalo-skin tightly on the back of his horse, and then led him round for some time in a circle, keeping him in the same track.

After practising thus for a while, he dropped the bridle and uttered a peculiar cry, on hearing which the animal fell into a slow gallop around the circle. When the horse had accomplished two or three rounds, the torero leaped upon his back, and performed the well-known feat of riding on his head.

Although a common one among professional equestrians, it was new to the Navajoes, who looked on with shouts of wonder and admiration. They caused the torero to repeat it again and again, until the spotted mustang had become all of one colour.

Sanchez, however, did not leave off until he had given his spectators the full programme of the "ring," and had fairly "astonished the natives."

When the tournament was ended, and we were hauled back to the river-side, the torero was not with us. Fortunate Sanchez! He had won his life! Henceforth he was to be riding-master to the Navajo nation!

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

RUNNING AMUCK.

Another day came: our day for action. We saw our enemies making their preparations; we saw them go off to the woods, and return bringing clubs freshly cut from the trees; we saw them dress as for ball-play or running.

At an early hour we were taken forward to the front of the temple. On arriving there, I cast my eyes upward to the terrace. My betrothed was above me; I was recognised.