The Indian Chief. Gustave Aimard
the men and cattle."
"Perhaps it would be better to push on at once—"
"I should like it as much as yourself, but it is impossible, as the 40,000 rations we ought to have found here have not yet arrived, and we are forced to await them."
"That is true."
"I am the more annoyed at this oversight, because our provisions are rapidly diminishing. Still, do not let our comrades see our disappointment, but let us put on a good face. They know we went ahead of them to make the commissariat arrangements, so let them fancy we have succeeded."
Valentine bowed in affirmation. The night was almost at an end; already the sky on the horizon was beginning to be shaded with large white strips of cloud; the stars had all disappeared one after the other; and the sun was just about to rise. Curumilla threw a handful of dried wood on the fire in order to make a flame, and neutralise the effect of the icy night air.
"Caramba!" Don Cornelio exclaimed, as he woke up suddenly; "I am frozen; the nights are so cold."
"Are they not?" Valentine said to him. "Well, if you want to warm yourself, nothing is easier. Come along with me."
"I am quite willing. Where are you going?"
"Listen."
"I am doing so. Stay!" he said at the expiration of an instant. "Can that be the company?"
"It is. But it is unnecessary for us to put ourselves out of the way, for here they come."
In fact, at this moment, the French advanced guard entered the mission. According to the treaty made with the Atrevida Company, 40,000 rations should have been prepared at the mission for the troop. The count gave the command to Colonel Florés, with orders to push on, and, accompanied by Valentine, Curumilla, and Don Cornelio, had gone on ahead. Unfortunately the company had not carried out its engagements with that loyalty the count had a right to expect. Instead of 40,000 rations he had found scarce half, ranged with a certain degree of symmetry in a ruined cabin. This breach of faith was the more injurious to the interests of the expedition, because the count, owing to this perfidious manoeuvre, found himself almost unable to push on, as he was about definitively to leave the inhabited and cultivated plains to bury himself in the desert.
Indeed, since the company had left Guaymas, the ill-will of the Mexicans had been so evident under all circumstances, that Don Louis had required a superhuman energy and will of iron not to give way to discouragement, and withdraw in the face of these obstacles raised in his path with unparalleled animosity. Still, up to the present, the Mexicans had never dared to break their engagements so boldly as now: hence they must feel themselves very strong, or at least their precautions were so well taken, and they felt so sure of success, that they raised the mask.
Besides, the count had found no one at the mission to hand him over the stores in the name of the company; and the persons who treated him so unworthily had not deigned to weaken by an excuse the treachery of which they were guilty at this moment. Don Louis foresaw, then, that after such behaviour, the dénouement of the odious farce played by the Mexicans was at hand, and he prepared to face the storm bravely.
The mission was held in military fashion by the company; for they were on the edge of the desert, and it was wise to begin a careful watch. Cannon were planted at each angle of headquarters—sentinels placed at regular distances; in short, this mission, sad and abandoned on the previous day, seemed to have sprung magically into life again; the rubbish was removed, and the old Jesuit church, more than half in ruins, suddenly assumed the appearance of a fortress.
When the count had given the necessary orders for the instalment of the company, and was assured of their perfect execution, he inquired of Colonel Florés how he had performed his duties as temporary chief. The colonel, alone among the French, and feeling himself consequently in the wolfs throat, was too crafty not to act ostensibly with the utmost loyalty; hence on every occasion he offered proofs of goodwill, and acted with a degree of circumspection by which Valentine, that eternal doubter, was nearly duped, although he knew perfectly well the nature of the Mexican character.
Then the count withdrew with the hunter, and the two foster brothers held a conversation, which, to judge by its length, and, above all, Don Louis' thoughtful air when it was ended, must have been very important. In fact, Valentine, accomplishing his pledge to Doña Angela, informed the count of the events of the past night, not only telling him all that had passed between him and the young lady, but also the details of his interview with the general on the river bank.
"You see, then," he said in conclusion, "that the situation is growing more and more critical, and they mean war."
"Yes, it is war; but so long as the least hope is left me, be assured, brother, that I shall not give them the satisfaction of supplying a pretext for a rupture."
"You must play more cautiously than ever, brother. However, unless I am greatly mistaken, we shall speedily know what we have to expect."
"That is my opinion too."
At this moment Don Cornelio appeared, accompanied by Curumilla.
"I beg your pardon," he said to the hunter; "but I should feel obliged by your putting matters right with the chief, who persists in telling me that we are at this moment closely watched by an Indian war party."
"What!" Valentine said, frowning. "What is that you say, Don Cornelio?"
"Look here. While walking in the neighbourhood of the mission with the chief, I picked up this——"
"Let me see," Valentine said.
Don Cornelio handed him a moccasin, which the hunter examined attentively for several minutes.
"Hum!" he then said, "this is serious. Where did you find it?"
"On the river bank."
"What do you think of it, chief?" Valentine said, turning to the Araucano.
"The moccasin is new—it has been lost. Curumilla has seen numerous trails."
"Listen," Don Louis said quickly. "Tell no one about this discovery: we must distrust everything, for treachery is hovering around us, and threatens us from all sides at once. While I strengthen our intrenchments under pretext of a longer stay here, you, brother, will go out to reconnoitre with the chief, and assure yourself of what we have really to fear from the Indians."
"Be quiet, brother: on your side, keep a good watch."
CHAPTER III.
THE SPY.
It was about eight in the morning when Valentine and Curumilla left Don Louis. The hunter had passed the whole night without closing an eye. He felt fatigued: his eyelids, weighed down with sleep, closed involuntarily. Still he prepared to make the researches his foster brother had intrusted to him, when Curumilla, noticing his condition, invited him to take a few hours' rest, remarking that he did not absolutely want him in following up the trail he had noticed in the morning, and that he would give him a good account of all he did.
Valentine placed the most entire confidence in Curumilla. Many times, during the course of their common existence, he had been in a position to appreciate the sagacity, cleverness, and experience of the chief; hence he needed but little pressing to consent to his proposition of going out alone, and after giving him the warmest recommendations, he wrapped himself up in his cloak, and fell off to sleep at once.
He had enjoyed for about two hours a peaceful and refreshing nap when he felt a hand gently laid on his shoulder. So light as the touch was, it was sufficient to arouse the hunter, who, like all men habituated to prairie life, maintained, if we may use the expression, a sense of external things even during sleep. He opened his eyes, and looked fixedly at the man who had come to disturb the rest he was enjoying, while mentally consigning him to the deuce.
"Well,"