Wood Rangers Part 42

"Do not jest, Pepe; I am speaking of serious things. While I leave Fabian free to follow his own inclinations, I shall make him love this captivating life. Is not this short sleep, s.n.a.t.c.hed hastily between two dangers, preferable to what one tastes after a day of idle security in the towns. You yourself, Pepe--would _you_ wish to return to your own country, since you have known the charms of a wandering life?"

"There is between the heir of the Medianas," replied Pepe, "and the old coast-guard man a great difference. To him will come a fine property, a great name, and a beautiful Gothic castle with towers like the cathedral at Burgos; while I should be sent to fish for mackerel at Ceuta--which is the most execrable life I know of and which I should have but one chance of escaping from--that of waking some fine morning, at Tunis or Tetuan, as a slave to our neighbours the Moors. I have here, it is true, the daily chance of being scalped or burnt alive by the Indians.

Still the town is worse for me--but for Don Fabian--"

"Fabian has always lived in solitude, and will, I trust, prefer the calm of the desert to the tumult of cities. How solemn and silent is all around us! See here!" and he pointed to Fabian, "how the child sleeps, softly lulled by the murmur of the waters, and by the breeze in the willows. Look there, in the horizon at those fogs just coloured by the sun, and that boundless s.p.a.ce where man wanders in his primitive liberty, like the birds in the air!"

The Spaniard shook his head doubtfully, although he partook the ideas of the Canadian, and like him felt the charm of this wandering life.

"Look," continued the old hunter, "at that troop of wild horses coming down to drink before going for the night to their distant pasturage.

See how they approach in all the proud beauty that G.o.d gives to free animals--ardent eyes, open nostrils, and floating manes! Ah! I should almost like to awake Fabian in order that he might see and admire them."

"Let him sleep, Bois-Rose; perhaps his dreams show him more graceful forms than those horses of the desert--forms such as abound in our Spanish towns, in balconies or behind barred windows."

Bois-Rose sighed, as he added--

"Yet this is fine sight--how these n.o.ble beasts bound with joy at their liberty!"

"Yes, until they are chased by the Indians, and then they bound with terror!"

"There! now they are gone like the cloud driven by the wind!" continued the Canadian. "Now the scene changes. Look at that stag, who shows from time to time his shining eyes and black nose through the trees; he snuffs the wind, he listens. Ah! now he also approaches to drink. He has heard a noise, he raises his head; do not the drops that fall from his mouth look like liquid gold? I will wake the lad!"

"Let him sleep, I tell you; perhaps his dream now shows him black eyes and rosy lips, or some nymph sleeping on the banks of a clear stream."

The old Canadian sighed again.

"Is not the stag the emblem of independence?" said he.

"Yes, until the time when the wolves a.s.semble to pursue and tear him to pieces. Perhaps he would have more chance of life in our royal parks.

Everything to its time, Bois-Rose; old age loves silence, youth noise."

Bois-Rose still fought against the truth. It was the drop of gall that is found at the bottom of every cup of happiness; it is not permitted that there should be perfect felicity, for it would then be too painful to die; neither is unmixed misery allowed to mortals, or it would be painful to live. The Canadian hung his head and looked sad as he glanced at the sleeping youth, while Pepe put on his buffalo-skin buskins.

"Well! what did I tell you?" said he, presently; "do you not hear from afar those howlings--I mean those barkings, for the wolves have voices like dogs when they hunt the stags. Poor stag! he is, as you said, the emblem of life in the desert."

"Shall I wake Fabian now?" said Bois-Rose.

"Yes, certainly; for after a love dream a stag hunt is the thing most worthy of a n.o.bleman like him, and he will rarely see such a one as this."

"He will see nothing like it in the towns," cried the Canadian, enchanted; "such scenes must make him love the desert."

And he shook the young man gently.

With head thrown back, to inhale more freely the air necessary to his lungs, the stag flew like an arrow along the plain. Behind him a hungry pack of wolves, a few white, but the greater number black, pursued him at full speed. The stag had an immense start, but on the sand heaps, almost lost in the horizon, the piercing eye of the hunter might distinguish other wolves watching. The n.o.ble animal either did not see, or else disdained them, for he flew straight towards them. As he neared them he halted a moment. Indeed, he found himself shut in by a circle of enemies, who constantly advanced upon him as he stopped to take breath. All at once he turned round, faced the other wolves, and tried one last effort to escape. But he could not now clear the solid ma.s.ses that had formed around him, and he fell in the midst of them. Some rolled under his feet, and two or three were tossed in the air. Then, with a wolf hanging to his flanks, bleeding and with tongue protruding, the poor animal advanced to the edge of the water, in front of the three spectators of the strange chase.

"It is magnificent!" cried Fabian clapping his hands, and carried away by the hunter's enthusiasm, which for the time silences humanity in the heart of men.

"Is it not fine?" cried Bois-Rose, doubly pleased, happy at Fabian's pleasure, and at his own. "And we shall witness many such fine sights, my Fabian! here you see only the worst side of these American solitudes, but when you go with Pepe and me to the great rivers, and the great lakes of the north--"

"The animal has got rid of his enemy," interrupted Fabian, "he is about to spring into the river!"

The water bubbled after the leap of the stag, then a dozen times more as the wolves followed; then amidst the foam were visible the head of the stag, and those of the wolves who were pursuing him, howling with hunger, while the more timid ones ran along the banks uttering their lamentable howls. The stag had neared the island, when the wolves on the bank suddenly ceased their cries and fled precipitately away.

"What is that?" cried Pepe; "what causes this sudden panic?" but no sooner had he spoken than he cried again, "Hide yourselves, in G.o.d's name! the Indians are in chase also."

Other and more formidable hunters now appeared in their turn upon the arena. A dozen of the wild horses, which they had seen before, were now seen galloping wildly over the plain, while some Indians, mounted bareback on their horses (having taken their saddles off for greater speed), with their knees almost up to their chins, were pursuing the terrified animals. At first there were but three Indians visible; but one by one about twenty appeared, some armed with lances, and others brandishing their la.s.soes of plaited leather--all uttering those cries by which they express their joy or anger.

Pepe glanced at the Canadian as though to ask whether he had calculated these terrible chances when he wished to make Fabian share their adventurous career. For the first time, at such a crisis, the intrepid hunter looked deadly pale. An eloquent but sad glance was his reply to the Spaniard's mute interrogation.

"A too great affection in the heart of the bravest man," thought Pepe, "makes him tremble for him who he loves more than life; and adventurers like us should have no ties. There is Bois-Rose trembling like a woman!"

However, they felt almost certain that even the practiced eyes of the Indians could not discover them in their retreat; and the three men, after their first alarm had pa.s.sed over, watched coolly the manoeuvres of the Indians. These continued to pursue the flying horses; the numberless obstacles so thickly strewn over the plain--the ravines, the hillocks, and the sharp-pointed cacti--could not stop them. Without slackening the impetuosity of their pace or turning aside from any obstacle, these hors.e.m.e.n cleared them with wonderful address. Bold rider as he was himself, Fabian looked with enthusiasm on the astonishing agility of these wild hunters, but the precautions which they were forced to take, in order to conceal themselves, made the three friends lose a part of this imposing spectacle.

The vast savannahs, late so deserted, were suddenly changed into a scene of tumult and confusion. The stag, returning to the bank, continued to fly, with the wolves still after him. The wild horses galloped before the Indians--whose howlings equalled that of the wolves--and described great circles to avoid the lance or the la.s.so, while numerous echoes repeated these various sounds.

The sight of Fabian, who followed with an ardent eye all these tumultuous evolutions, not appearing to disquiet himself about a danger which he now braved for the first time, deprived Bois-Rose of that confidence in himself which had brought him safe and sound out of perils apparently greater than this.

"Ah!" muttered he, "these are scenes which the inhabitants of cities can never see, it is only in the desert one can meet with them."

But his voice trembled in spite of himself; and he stopped, for he felt that he would have given a year of his life that Fabian had not been present. At this moment a new subject of apprehension added to his anguish.

The scene became more solemn; for a new actor, whose _role_ was to be short though terrible, now appeared upon it. It was a man, whom by his dress the three recognised with terror as a white man like themselves.

The unlucky man suddenly discovered in one of the evolutions of the chase, had become in his turn the exclusive object of pursuit. Wild horses, wolves, the stag, had all disappeared in the distant fog. There remained only the twenty Indians scattered over a circle, of which the white man occupied the centre. For an instant the friends could see him cast around him a glance of despair and anguish. But, excepting on the river-side, the Indians were everywhere. It was, therefore, in this direction that he must fly; and he turned his horse towards the opening opposite to the island. But his single moment of indecision had sufficed for the Indians to get near him.

"The unhappy man is lost, and no help for it," said Bois-Rose; "he is too late now to cross the river."

"But," said Fabian, "if we can save a Christian, shall we let him be murdered before our eyes?"

Pepe looked at Bois-Rose.

"I answer for your life before G.o.d," said the Canadian, solemnly, "if we are discovered we are but three against twenty. The life of three men-- yours especially, Fabian--is more precious than that of one; we must let this unhappy man meet his fate."

"But intrenched as we are?" persisted Fabian.

"Intrenched! Do you call this frail rampart of osiers and reeds an intrenchment? Do you think these leaves are ball proof? And these Indians are but twenty now; but let one of our shots be fired at them, and you will soon see one hundred instead of twenty. May G.o.d pardon me if I am unfeeling, but it is necessary."

Fabian said no more; this last reason seemed conclusive, for, like his companions, he was ignorant that the rest of the Indians were at the camp of Don Estevan.

Meanwhile the white fled like a man the speed of whose horse is his last resource. Already they could see the terror depicted on his face, but just as he was about twenty feet from the river, the la.s.so of an Indian caught him, and the unlucky wretch, thrown violently from his saddle fell upon the sand.

CHAPTER FORTY.

AN INDIAN DIPLOMAT.

After the cries of triumph which announced the capture of the unlucky white man, there was a moment of profound silence. The men on the island exchanged looks of consternation and pity. "Thank G.o.d! they have not killed him!" said Fabian.

The prisoner indeed arose, although bruised with his fall, and one of the Indians disengaged him from the la.s.so. Bois-Rose and Pepe shook their heads.