The Indian Chief: The Story of a Revolution. Aimard Gustave
impossible to describe. The count then withdrew with Valentine.
"Alas, brother!" he said to him, with an expression of heart-rending sorrow, "the die is now cast. I, Count de Prébois Crancé, am a rebel, a pirate: I am at open war with a recognised power, with a constitutional Government. What can I do with the few men I command? I shall perish in the first battle – the combat is senseless. I shall be ere long the laughing stock of the world. Who could have predicted this when I left San Francisco, full of hope, to work those mines which I shall never see? What has become of my fair dreams, my seductive hopes?"
"Do not allow yourself to be downcast, brother," Valentine answered. "At present, above all, you need all your intellect and all your energy to fulfil worthily the task accident imposes on you. Remember that from this intellect and this energy depends the safety of two hundred of your countrymen, whom you have sworn to lead back to the seashore; and you must keep your oath."
"I will die with them. What more can they demand?"
"That you should save them," the hunter replied sternly.
"That is my most anxious desire."
"Your position is a fine one – you are not so alone as you fancy."
"How so?"
"Have you not the French colony of Guetzalli, founded by the Count de Lhorailles?"
"Yes," Louis answered sadly; "but the count is dead."
"He is; but the colony exists, and is prosperous. You will find there fifty to sixty resolute men, who ask no better than to join you, even if merely through the spirit of adventure."
"Fifty men are very few."
"Nonsense! They are more than you need when dealing with Mexicans. Do one thing more: prepare an insurrection among the half savage population, whose alcaldes pine secretly at their secondary position, and the species of vassaldom into which the Mexican Government forces them."
"Oh, oh!" Louis said, "that is a good idea. But where is the man who will undertake to visit this people, and negotiate with the alcaldes of the Pueblos?"
"I will, if you like."
"I did not dare ask it. Thank you. I, for my part, will prepare everything in order to begin with a terrible blow, which will startle the Mexican Government by giving it an idea of our strength."
"Good! Before all, do not forget that, until fresh orders, the war you undertake must be an uninterrupted succession of daring blows."
"Oh! you may be at ease. Now that the Mexicans have lifted the mask, and forced me to defend myself, they will learn to know the men they have so long despised, and whom they fancied cowards because they were good-hearted."
"Has Colonel Florés left?"
"No, not yet."
"Keep him here till tomorrow, no matter by what pretext."
"Why so?"
"Let me alone: you shall know. And now prepare to sustain an attack from the Indians: if my presentiments do not deceive me, it will be warm."
"What makes you suppose that?"
"Certain information I picked up for myself, and other still more important I obtained from Curumilla. So try to prevent the Mexican colonel leaving the camp, but do not let him suspect he is watched."
"It shall be done. You know that I trust to you for the precautions to be taken?"
"Externally, yes; but do you watch that the lines are not forced."
The greatest animation prevailed in the camp. Armories and smiths were busily working with feverish ardour to place weapons, carts, and gun carriages in working condition. On all sides joyous shouts and bursts of laughter could be heard; for these worthy adventurers had regained all their gaiety, now that there was a prospect of fighting; that is, of dealing and receiving blows.
Colonel Florés wandered about rather sadly in the midst of the confusion: his position was becoming difficult, and he felt it. Still he did not know how to prolong his stay among the Frenchmen, now that war was declared, and the interests of the company of which he was the delegate were completely laid aside; and thus the only plausible reason he could allege for remaining was cut away. Since the Frenchmen's arrival in Mexico the double character played by the colonel brought him handsome sums: his profession of spy, rendered easy by the confiding frankness of the adventurers, had been to him a source of enormous profit, and people do not give up without pain a lucrative engagement.
Thus the colonel's brow was anxious, for he racked his brains in vain for a plausible excuse to offer the count. In the height of his diplomatic combinations Valentine came to him, and told him, with the most innocent air possible, that Don Louis was seeking for him, and wished to speak with him. The colonel shuddered at the news: he thanked the hunter, and hastened to the count. Valentine looked after him with an ironical smile; and, certain that Louis would detain him long enough by his side, he commenced the execution of the plan he had prepared.
While all this was occurring night had set in – a gloomy and sad night, without a star in the sky. The clouds shot rapidly across the sickly disc of the moon, and intercepted its rays. The wind lamented sadly as it whistled through the branches of the trees, which dashed against each other with a lugubrious sound. In the mysterious depths of the forest could be heard growls and savage yells, mingled with the dashing of the cascade and the monotonous clashing of the pebbles rolled on the bank by the river. It was one of those nights in which nature seems to associate herself with human sorrows, and lament at the crimes for which her gloomy shadows serve as a veil.
By Valentine's orders the trees had been cut down for a distance of fifty yards round the camp, in order to clear the ground, and deprive the enemy of the chance of creeping up to the intrenchments unseen. On the space thus left free enormous fires were kindled at regular intervals. These fires, whose tall flames illumined the prairie for a considerable distance, formed a brilliant circle round the camp, which was itself plunged in complete obscurity. Not the slightest light flashed in the mission. The intrenchments appeared to be deserted – not a sentry could be seen. The mission had fallen back into the silence of solitude – all was calm and tranquil.
But this calm concealed the tempest. In the shadow palpitated the anxious hearts of the men who, with ear on the watch, and finger on the trigger, awaited motionless the arrival of their enemies. The hours, however, passed away slowly one after the other, and nothing justified the apprehensions expressed by Valentine as to a speedy attack.
The count was walking up and down the church which served as his retreat, listening anxiously to the slightest sounds that interrupted the silence at intervals. At times he turned an angry and impatient look upon the desert country, but nothing stirred – the same calm continued ever to oppress nature. Wearied by this long and enervating delay, he quitted the church, and proceeded toward the intrenchments. The adventurers were at their posts, stretched on the ground, each man with his hand on the trigger.
"Have you seen or heard nothing yet?" the count asked, though he knew beforehand the answer he would receive, and rather for the purpose of deceiving his impatience than with any other object.
"Nothing," Don Cornelio answered coldly, who happened to be close to him.
"Ah! it is you," the count said. "And Colonel Florés, what have you done with him?"
"I followed your instructions, commandant. He is asleep."
"You are sure of it?"
The Spaniard smiled.
"I guarantee that he will sleep at least till sunrise," he said. "I managed matters well."
"Very good; in that case we have nothing to fear from him."
"Nothing at all."
"Has anyone seen Don Valentine or the Indian chief?"
"No; they both went out at sunset, and have not reappeared since."
While speaking thus the two men were looking out, and their eyes attentively examined the plain: hence they made a gesture of surprise, almost of alarm, on suddenly perceiving a man who seemed to emerge from the ground, and rose between them like a phantom.
"Válgame