The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan War. Aimard Gustave
beasts, and enclosing, amid its ranks, the fire kindled by the hunter, and which seemed like a gloomy lighthouse intended to indicate the track.
They soon plunged into the stream, which they crossed in a straight line, and their long serried columns glided up the other bank, where the head of the manada speedily disappeared.
The hunters were saved by the coolness and presence of mind of the Canadian; still, for nearly two hours longer, they remained Concealed among the branches that sheltered them.
The buffaloes continued to pass on their right and left. The fire had gone out through lack of nourishment, but the direction had been given, and, on reaching the fire, which was now but a pile of ashes, the column separated of its own accord into two parts.
At length, the rearguard made its appearance, harassed by the jaguars that leaped on their back and flank, and then all was over. The desert, whose silence had been temporarily disturbed, fell back into its usual calmness, and merely a wide track made through the heart of the forest, and covered with fallen trees, testified to the furious passage of this disorderly herd.
The hunters breathed again; now they could without danger leave their airy fortress, and go back again to earth.
CHAPTER V
BLACK-DEER
So soon as the three rangers descended, they collected the scattered logs, in order to rekindle the fire over which they would cook their breakfast.
As there was no lack of provisions, they had no occasion to draw on their own private resources; several buffaloes that lay lifeless on the ground offered them the most succulent meal known in the desert.
While Tranquil was engaged in getting a buffalo hump ready, the Black and Redskin examined each other with a curiosity revealed in exclamations of surprise from both sides.
The Negro laughed like a maniac on remarking the strange appearance of the Indian warrior, whose face was painted of four different colours, and who wore a costume so strange in the eyes of Quoniam; for that worthy, as he himself said, had never before come in contact with Indians.
The other manifested his astonishment in a different way: after standing for a long time motionless, and watching the Negro, he walked up to him, and not uttering a word, seized Quoniam's arm, and began rubbing it with all his strength with the skirt of his buffalo robe.
The Negro, who at the outset readily indulged the Indian's whims, soon began to grow impatient; he tried at first to liberate himself, but was unable to succeed, for the Chief held him firmly, and conscientiously went on with his singular operation. In the meanwhile, the Negro, whom this continued rubbing was beginning not merely to annoy, but cause terrible suffering, began uttering frequent yells, while making the most tremendous efforts to escape from his pitiless torturer.
Tranquil's attention was aroused by Quoniam's cries; he threw up his head smartly, and ran up at full speed to deliver the Negro, who was rolling his eyes in terror, leaping from one side to the other, and yelling like a condemned man.
"Why does my brother torture that man so?" the Canadian asked as he interposed.
"I?" the Chief asked in surprise, "I am not torturing him; his disguise is not necessary, so I am removing it."
"What! My disguise?" Quoniam shouted.
Tranquil made him a sign to be silent.
"This man is not disguised," he continued.
"Why, then, has he painted all his body in this way?" the Chief asked obstinately, "Warriors only paint their face."
The hunter could not repress a burst of laughter.
"My brother is mistaken," he said, so soon as he recovered his seriousness; "this man belongs to a separate race; the Wacondah has given him a black skin, in the same way as he made my brother's red, and mine white; all the brothers of this man are of his colour; the great Spirit has willed it so, in order that they may not be confused with the Redskin nations and the Palefaces; if my brother look at his buffalo robe, he will see that not the least bit of black has come off on it."
"Wah!" the Indian said, letting his head sink, like a man placed before an insoluble problem; "the Wacondah can do everything!"
And he mechanically obeyed the hunter by taking a peep at the tail of his robe, which he had not yet thought of letting go.
"Now," Tranquil went on, "be kind enough to regard this man as a friend, and do for him what you would do, if wanted, for me, and I shall feel under the greatest obligations to you."
The Chief bowed gracefully, and held out his hand to the Negro.
"The words of my brother the hunter warble in my ears with the sweetness of the song of the centzontle," he said. "Black-deer is a Sachem of his nation, his tongue is not forked, and the words his chest breathes are clear, for they come from his heart; Black-face will have his place at the Council fire of the Pawnees, for from this moment he is the friend of a Chief."
Quoniam bowed to the Indian, and warmly returned the pressure of his hand.
"I am only a poor black," he said, "but my heart is pure, and the blood is as red in my veins as if I were Indian or white; both of you have a right to ask my life of me, and I will give it you joyfully."
After this mutual exchange of assurances of friendship, the three men sat down on the ground, and began their breakfast.
Owing to the excitement of the morning, the three adventurers had a ferocious appetite; they did honour to the buffalo hump, which disappeared almost entirely before their repeated attacks, and which they washed down with a few horns of water mixed with rum, of which liquor Tranquil had a small stock in a gourd, hanging from his waist belt.
When the meal was ended, pipes were lighted, and each began smoking, silently, with the gravity peculiar to men who live in the woods.
When the Chief's pipe was ended, he shook out the ashes on his left thumbnail, passed the stem through his belt, and turned to Tranquil,
"Will my brothers hold a council?" he asked.
"Yes," the Canadian answered: "when I left you on the Upper Missouri, at the end of the Moon of the burned fruit (July), you gave me the meeting at the creek of the dead oaks of the Elk River, on the tenth day of the Moon of the falling leaves (September), two hours before sunrise: both of us were punctual, and I am now waiting till it please you to explain to me, Chief, why you gave me this meeting."
"My brother is correct, Black-deer will speak."
After uttering these words, the Indian's face seemed to grow dark, and he fell into a profound reverie, which his comrades respected by patiently waiting till he spoke again.
At length, after about a quarter of an hour, the Indian Chief passed his hand over his brow several times, raised his head, took a searching glance around, and made up his mind to speak, though in a low and restrained voice, as if, even on the desert, he feared lest his words might fall on hostile ears.
"My brother the hunter has known me since child-hood," he said, "for he was brought up by the Sachems of my nation: hence I will say nothing of myself. The great Paleface hunter has an Indian heart in his breast; Black-deer will speak to him as a brother to a brother. Three moons ago, the Chief was following with his friend the elks and the deer on the prairies of the Missouri, when a Pawnee warrior arrived at full speed, took the Chief aside, and spoke with him privately for long hours; does my brother remember this?"
"Perfectly, Chief; I remember that after the conversation Blue Fox, for that was the name of the Chief, set off as rapidly as he had come, and my brother, who till then had been gay and cheerful, became suddenly sad. In spite of the questions I addressed to my brother he could not tell me the cause of this sudden grief, and on the morrow, at sunrise, he left me, giving me the meeting here for this day."
"Yes," the Indian said, "that is exact. Things happened so; but what I could not then tell, I will now impart to my brother."
"My ears are open," the hunter replied, with a bow. "I fear that, unfortunately, my brother has only bad news to tell me."
"My brother shall judge," he said. "This