The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico. Gustave Aimard
him, and left the circle grumbling.
The head of the caravan remained for a few minutes plunged in serious thought; he then withdrew beneath his tent, the curtain of which fell behind him; and the peons lay down on the ground, one after the other, with their feet to the fire, and carefully wrapped up in their serapes, and fell asleep.
The Indian then took the pipe stem from his mouth, looked searchingly around him, shook out the ashes, passed the pipe through his belt, and, rising negligently, went slowly to crouch at the foot of a tree, though not before he had taken the precaution of wrapping himself in his buffalo robe, a measure which the sharp air rendered, if not indispensable, at any rate necessary.
Ere long, with the exception of the sentries leaning on their guns and motionless as statues, all the travellers were plunged in deep sleep, for the capataz himself, in spite of the promise he had made his master, had laid himself across the entrance of the tent.
An hour elapsed ere anything disturbed the silence that prevailed in the camp. All at once a singular thing happened. The buffalo robe, under which the Indian was sheltered, gently rose with an almost imperceptible movement, and the redskin's face appeared, darting glances of fire into the gloom. In a moment the guide raised himself slowly along the trunk of the tree against which he had been lying, embraced it with his feet and hands, and with undulating movements resembling those of reptiles, he left the ground, and raised himself to the first branches, among which he disappeared.
This ascent was executed with such well-calculated slowness that it had not produced the slightest sound. Moreover, the buffalo robe left at the foot of the tree so well retained its primitive folds, that it was impossible to discover, without touching it, that the man it sheltered had left it.
When the guide was thoroughly concealed among the leaves, he remained for a moment motionless; though not in order to regain his breath after having made such an expenditure of strength, for this man was made of iron, and fatigue had no power over him. But he probably wished to look about him, for with his body bent forward, and his eyes fixed on space, he inhaled the breeze, and his glances seemed trying to pierce the gloom.
Before selecting as his resting place the foot of the tree in which he was now concealed, the guide had assured himself that this tree, which was very high and leafy, was joined at about two-thirds of its height by other trees, which gradually rose along the side of the mountain, and formed a wall of verdure.
After a few minutes' hesitation, the guide drew in his belt, placed his knife between his teeth, and with a certainty and lightness of movement which would have done honour to a monkey, he commenced literally hopping from one tree to another, hanging by his arms, and clinging to the creepers, waking up, as he passed, the birds, which flew away in alarm.
This strange journey lasted about three-quarters of an hour. At length the guide stopped, looked attentively around him, and gliding down the trunk of the tree on which he was, reached the ground. The spot where he now found himself was a rather spacious clearing, in the centre of which blazed an enormous fire, serving to warm forty or fifty redskins, completely armed and equipped for war. Still, singular to say, the majority of these Indians, instead of their long lances and the bows they usually employ, carried muskets of American manufacture, which led to the supposition that they were picked warriors and great braves of their nation; and this, too, was further proved by the numerous wolf tails fastened to their heels, an honourable insignia which only renowned warriors have the right to assume.
This detachment of redskins was certainly on the war trail, or at any rate on a serious expedition, for they had with them neither dogs nor squaws. In spite of the slight care with which the Indians are wont to guard themselves at night, the free and deliberate manner in which the guide entered their encampment proved that he was expected by these warriors, who evinced no surprise at seeing him, but, on the contrary, invited him with hospitable gestures to take a seat at their fire. The guide sat down silently, and began smoking the calumet which the chief seated by his side immediately offered him. This chief was still a young man, his marked features displaying the utmost craft and boldness. After a rather lengthened interval, doubtless expressly granted the visitor to let him draw breath and warm himself, the young chief bowed to him and addressed him deferentially.
"My father is welcome among his sons; they were impatiently awaiting his arrival."
The guide responded to this compliment with a grimace, in all probability intended to pass muster for a smile. The chief continued: —
"Our scouts have carefully examined the encampment of the Yoris, and the warriors of the Jester are ready to obey the instructions given them by their great sachem, Eagle-head. Is my father Curumilla satisfied with his red children?"
Curumilla (for the guide was no other than the reader's old acquaintance the Araucano chief) laid his right hand on his chest, and uttered with a guttural accent the exclamation, "Ugh!" which was with him a mark of the greatest joy.
The Jester and his warriors had been too long acquainted with Curumilla for his silence to seem strange to them; hence they yielded without repugnance to his mania, and carefully giving up the hope of getting a syllable out of his closed lips, began with him a conversation in signs.
We have already had occasion, in a previous work, to mention that the redskins have two languages, the written and the sign language. The latter, which has among them attained a high perfection, and which all understand, is usually employed when hunting, or on expeditions, when a word pronounced even in a low voice may reveal the presence of an ambuscade to the enemy, whether men or beasts, whom they are pursuing, and desire to surprise.
It would have been interesting, and even amusing, for any stranger who had been present at this interview to see with what rapidity the gestures and signs were exchanged between these men, so strangely lit up by the ruddy glow of the fire, and who resembled, with their strange movements, their stern faces, and singular attitudes, a council of demons. At times the Jester, with his body bent forward, and emphatic gestures, held a dumb speech, which his comrades followed with the most sustained attention, and which they answered with a rapidity that words themselves could not have surpassed.
At length this silent council terminated. Curumilla raised his hand to heaven, and pointed to the stars, which were beginning to grow dim, and then left the circle. The redskins respectfully followed him to the foot of the tree by the aid of which he had entered their camp. When he reached it, he turned round.
"May the Wacondah protect my father!" the Jester then said. "His sons have thoroughly understood his instructions, and will follow them literally. The great pale hunter will have joined his friends by this hour, and he is doubtless awaiting us. Tomorrow Koutonepi will see his Comanche brothers. At the enditha the camp will be raised."
"It is good," Curumilla answered, and saluting for the last time the warriors, who bowed respectfully before him, the chief seized the creeping plants, and, raising himself by the strength of his wrists, in a second he reached the branches, and disappeared in the foliage.
The journey the Indian had made was very important, and needed to be so for him to run such great risks in order to have an interview at this hour of the night with the redskins; but as the reader will soon learn what were the consequences of this expedition, we deem it unnecessary to translate the sign language employed during the council, or explain the resolutions formed between Curumilla and the Jester.
The chief recommenced his aerial trip with the same lightness and the same good fortune. After a lapse of time comparatively much shorter than that which he had previously employed, he reached the camp of the white men. The same silence prevailed in its interior; the sentinels were still motionless at their post, and the watch fires were beginning to expire.
The chief assured himself that no eye was fixed on him – that no spy was on the watch; and, feeling certain of not being perceived, he slid silently down the tree and resumed the place beneath the buffalo robe which he was supposed not to have left during the night.
At the moment when, after taking a final glance around, the Indian chief disappeared beneath his robe, the capataz, who was lying athwart the entrance of the hut, gently raised his head, and looked with strange fixity of glance at the place occupied by the redskin.
Had a suspicion been