The Indian Chief. Gustave Aimard
returned yet."
"Have you any suspicion of him?" the hunter said with a certain degree of bitterness.
"Brother," Louis replied, "you are unjust at this moment. I do not suspect; I am restless, that is all. Like yourself, I feel a too lively and sincere friendship for the chief not to fear some accident."
"Curumilla is prudent; no one is so well acquainted as he with Indian tricks. If he has not returned, there are important reasons for it, be assured."
"I am convinced of it; but the delay his absence causes us may prove injurious."
"How do you know, brother? Perhaps our safety depends on this very absence. Believe me, Louis, I know Curumilla much better than you do. I have slept too long side by side with him not to place the utmost confidence in him. Thus, you see, I patiently await his return."
"But supposing he has fallen into a snare, or has been killed?"
Valentine regarded his foster brother with a most peculiar look; then he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders, and an air of supreme contempt—
"He fallen into a snare! Curumilla dead! Nonsense, brother, you must be jesting! You know perfectly well that is impossible."
Louis had no objection to offer to this simple profession of faith.
"At any rate," he continued presently, "you must allow that he has kept us waiting a long time."
"Why so? What do we want of him at this moment? You do not intend to leave this bivouac, I fancy? Well, what consequence is it if he return an hour sooner or later?"
Louis made a sign of impatience, wrapped himself up in his zarapé, and lay down by Don Cornelio's side, after growling—
"Good night."
"Good night, brother," Valentine answered with a smile.
Ten minutes later, Don Louis, despite his ill temper, overcome by fatigue, slept as if he were never to wake up again. Valentine allowed a quarter of an hour to elapse ere he made a move; then he rose gently, crept up to his foster brother, bent over him, and examined him attentively for two or three minutes.
"At length," he said, drawing himself up. "I was afraid he would insist on sitting up and keeping me company."
The hunter thrust into his girdle the pistols he had laid on the ground, threw his rifle over his shoulder, and stepping carefully across the stones and rubbish that burdened the soil, rapidly but noiselessly retired, and speedily disappeared in the darkness. He walked in this way for about ten minutes, when he reached a dense thicket. Then he crouched behind a shrub, and, after taking a cautious survey of the surrounding country, whistled gently thrice, being careful to leave an equal space of time between each signal. At the expiration of two or three minutes the cry of the moorhen was heard twice from the midst of the trees that bordered the river's bank only a few paces from the spot where the hunter was standing.
"Good!" the latter muttered. "Our friend is punctual; but, as the wisdom of nations says somewhere that prudence is the mother of surety, let us be prudent: that can do no harm when dealing with such scamps."
And the worthy hunter set the hammer of his rifle. After taking this precaution he left the thicket in which he had been concealed, and advanced with apparent resolution, but still without neglecting any precaution to avoid a surprise, toward the spot whence the reply to his signal had come. When he had covered about half the distance four or five persons came forward to meet him.
"Oh, oh!" the hunter said; "these people appear very eager to speak with me. Attention!"
Hereupon he stopped, raised his rifle to his shoulder, and aimed at the nearest man.
"Halt," he said, "or I fire!"
"Capo de Dios! you are quick, caballero," an ironical voice answered. "You do not allow yourself to be easily approached; but uncock your rifle—you see that we are unarmed."
"Apparently so, I grant; but who guarantees me that you have not arms concealed about your person?"
"My honour, sir," the first speaker answered haughtily. "Would you venture to doubt it?"
The hunter laughed.
"I doubt everything at night, when I am alone in the desert, and see before me four men whom I have every reason for believing are not my friends."
"Come, come, sir, a little more politeness, if you please."
"I wish nothing more. Still, you requested this interview; hence you are bound to accept my conditions, and not I yours."
"As you please, Don Valentine: you shall arrange matters as you will. Still, the first time we had a conference together, I found you much more facile."
"I do not deny it. Come alone, and we will talk."
The stranger gave his companions a sign to stop where they were, and advanced alone.
"That will do," the hunter said as he uncocked his rifle, and rested the butt on the ground, crossing his hands over the muzzle.
The man to whom Valentine displayed so little confidence, or, to speak more clearly, whom he doubted so greatly, was no other than General Don Sebastian Guerrero.
"There, now you must be satisfied. I think I have given you a great proof of my condescension," the general said as he joined him.
"You have probably your reasons for it," the hunter replied, with a cunning look.
"Sir!" the general haughtily objected.
"Let us be brief and clear, like men who appreciate one another correctly," Valentine said dryly. "I am neither a fool nor a man infatuated with his own merits; hence frankness, reciprocal frankness, can alone bring us to any understanding, if that be possible, though I doubt it."
"What do you suppose, then, sir?"
"I suppose nothing, general. I am certain of what I assert, that is all. What probability is there that a great personage like you, general, Governor of Sonora, and Lord knows what else, would lower yourself to solicit from a poor fellow of a hunter like myself an interview at night, in the heart of the desert, unless he hoped to obtain a great advantage from that interview? A man must be mad or a fool not to see that at the first glance; and Heaven be thanked, I am neither one nor the other."
"Suppose that things are as you state?"
"Suppose it, then; I have no objection. Now come to facts."
"Hum! that does not appear to me so easy with you."
"Why so? Our first relations, as you reminded me just now, ought to have proved to you that I am easy enough in business matters."
"That is true. Still the transaction I have to propose to you is of rather a peculiar nature, and I am afraid——"
"What of? That I shall refuse? Hang it! you understand there is a risk to be incurred."
"No; I am afraid that you will not exactly catch the spirit of the affair, and feel annoyed."
"Do you think so? After all, that is possible. Would you like me to save you the trouble of an explanation?"
"How so?"
"Listen to me."
The two men were standing just two paces apart, looking in each other's eyes. Still Valentine, ever on his guard, was carefully watching, though not appearing to do so, the four men left behind.
"Speak!" the general said.
"General, you wish simply to propose to me that I should sell my friend."
Don Sebastian, at these words, pronounced with a cutting accent, involuntarily gave a sign of surprise, and fell back a pace.
"Sir!"
"Is it true—yes or no?"
"You employ terms——" the general