The Wild Huntress Part 33

"I was, yesterday," I replied, turning half round, to give her a sight of my shoulders, which the Indian artist had left untouched. "To-day, I am as you see."

"O heavens!" she exclaimed, suddenly changing her manner, "this red? It is blood! You are wounded, sir? Where is your wound?"

"In several places I am wounded; but not dangerously. They are only scratches: I have no fear of them."

"Who gave you these wounds?"

"Indians. I have just escaped from them."

"Indians! What Indians?"

"Arapahoes."

"Arapahoes! Where did you encounter them?"

The question was put in a hurried manner, and in a tone that betrayed excitement.

"On the Huerfano," I replied--"by the Orphan b.u.t.te. It was the band of a chief known as the Red-Hand."

"Ha! The Red-Hand on the Huerfano! Stranger! are you sure of this?"

The earnest voice in which the interrogatory was again put somewhat surprised me. I answered by giving a brief and rapid detail of our capture, and subsequent treatment--without mentioning the names of my travelling companions, or stating the object of our expedition. Indeed, I was not allowed to enter into particulars. I was hurried on by interpellations from my listener--who, before I could finish the narrative of my escape, again interrupted me, exclaiming in an excited manner:

"Red-Hand in the valley of the Huerfano! news for Wa-ka-ra!" After a pause she hastily inquired: "How many warriors has the Red-Hand with him?"

"Nearly two hundred."

"Not more than two hundred?"

"No--rather less, I should say."

"It is well--You say you have a horse?"

"My horse is at hand."

"Bring him up, then, and come along with me!"

"But my comrades? I must follow the train, that I may be able to return and rescue them?"

"You need not, for such a purpose. There is one not far off who can aid you in that--better than the escort you speak of. If too late to save their lives, he may avenge their deaths for you. You say the caravan pa.s.sed yesterday?"

"Yesterday about noon."

"You could not overtake it, and return in time. The Red-Hand would be gone. Besides, you cannot get from this place to the trail taken by the caravan, without going back by the canon; and there you might meet those from whom you have escaped. You cannot cross that way: the ridge is impa.s.sable."

As she said this, she pointed to the left--the direction which I had intended to take. I could see through a break in the bluff a precipitous mountain spur running north and south--parallel with the ravine I had been threading. It certainly appeared impa.s.sable--trending along the sky like the escarpment of some gigantic fortress. If this was true, there would be but little chance of my overtaking the escort in time. I had no longer a hope of being able to effect the rescue of my comrades. The delay, no doubt, would be fatal. In all likelihood, both Wingrove and Sure-shot had ere this been sacrificed to the vengeance of the Arapahoes, freshly excited by my escape. Only from a sense of duty did I purpose returning: rather with the idea of being able to avenge their deaths.

What meant this mysterious maiden? Who possessed the power to rescue my comrades from two hundred savages--the most warlike upon the plains?

Who was he that could aid me in avenging them?

"Follow me, and you shall see!" replied the huntress, in answer to my interrogatory. "Your horse! your horse! Hasten, or we shall be too late. The Red-Hand in the valley of the Huerfano! Wa-ka-ra will rejoice at the news. Your horse! your horse!" I hastened back for my Arab, and hurriedly led him up to the spot.

"A beautiful creature!" exclaimed she, on seeing the horse; "no wonder you were able to ride off from your captors. Mount!"

"And you?"

"I shall go afoot. But stay! time is precious. Can your steed carry us both?"

"Undoubtedly he can."

"Then it is better we should both ride. Half an hour is everything; and if the Red-Hand should escape--You mount first--be quick!"

It was not the time to be squeamish--even under the glance of the loveliest eyes. Taking the robe from my shoulders, I spread it over the back of my horse; and employing a piece of the laryette as a surcingle, I bound it fast. Into the improvised saddle I mounted--the girl, from a rock, leaping upon the croup behind me. "You, Wolf!" cried she, apostrophising the dog; "you stay here by the game, and guard it from the _coyotes_. Remember! rascal! not a mouthful till I return. Now, stranger!" she continued, shifting closer to me, and clasping me round the waist, "I am ready. Give your steed to the road; and spare him not, as you value the lives of your comrades. Up the ravine lies our way.

Ho! onward!"

The brave horse needed no spur. He seemed to understand that speed was required of him; and, stretching at once into a gallop, carried us gaily up the gorge.

CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE.

A QUEER CONVERSATION.

Is other days, and under other circ.u.mstances, the touch of that round arm, softly encircling my waist, might have caused the current of my veins to flow fast and fevered. Not so then. My blood was thin and chill. My soul recoiled from amatory emotions, or indulged in them only as a remembrance. Even in that hour of trial and temptation, my heart was true to thee, Lilian! Had it been _thy_ arm thus wound around my waist--had those eyes that glanced over my shoulder been blue, and the tresses that swept it gold--I might for the moment have forgotten the peril of my companions, and indulged only in the ecstasy of a selfish love. But not with her--that strange being with whom chance had brought me into such close companionship. For her I had no love-yearnings.

Even under the entwining of that beautiful arm, my sense was as cold, as if I had been in the embrace of a statue. My thoughts were not there.

My captive comrades were uppermost in my mind. Her promise had given me hope that they might yet be rescued. How? and by whom? Whither were we going? and whose was the powerful hand from which help was to come? I would have asked; but our rapid movement precluded all chance of conversation. I could only form conjectures. These pointed to white men--to some rendezvous of trappers that might be near. I knew there were such. How else in such a place could _her_ presence be accounted for? Even that would scarce explain an apparition so peculiar as that of this huntress-maiden! Other circ.u.mstances contradicted the idea that white men were to be my allies. There could be no band of trappers strong enough to attack the dark host of Red-Hand--at least with the chance of destroying it? She knew the strength of the Arapahoes. I had told her their number, as I had myself estimated it--nearly two hundred warriors. It was rare that a party of white hunters mustered above a dozen men. Moreover, she had mentioned a name--twice mentioned it--"Wa-ka-ra." No white was likely to bear such an appellation. The word was undoubtedly Indian--especially as the huntress had p.r.o.nounced it.

I waited for an opportunity to interrogate her. It offered at length-- where the path ran circuitously among loose rocks, and it was impossible to proceed at a rapid pace I was about initiating a dialogue, when I was forestalled in my intention.

"You are an officer in the army!" said my companion, half interrogatively. "How should you have known that?" answered I in some surprise--perceiving that her speech was rather an a.s.sertion than a question. "Oh! easily enough; your uniform tells me."

"My uniform?"

"Yes. Have you not still a portion of it left?" inquired she, with a striking simplicity. "I see a mark here where lace stripes have been.

That denotes an officer--does it not? The Arapahoes have stripped them off, I suppose?"

"There was lace--true--you have guessed correctly. I have been in the army."

"And what was bringing you out here? On your way to the gold countries, I dare say?"

"No, indeed, not that."

"What, then, may I ask?"

"Only a foolish freak. It was a mere tour without much purpose. I intended soon to return to the States."

"Ah! you intend returning? But you say you _were following_ the caravan--you and your three fellow-travellers! Why were you not _with_ it? Would it not have been safer?" I hesitated to make reply. My interrogator continued: