Читать книгу The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West - Gustave Aimard - Страница 10

Ellen and her mother immediately went out, and entered their separate apartment. For a few minutes they could be heard moving about, and then all became silent again.

Red Cedar made a sign, and Sutter rose and gently put his ear to the parting board. He listened for a few moments while holding his breath, and then returned to his seat, saying laconically—

"They are asleep."

"Quick, my whelps!" the old squatter said in a low voice. "We have not a minute to lose: the others are expecting us."

A strange scene then occurred in this mean room, which was merely illumined by the expiring light of the hearth. The four men arose, opened a large chest, and produced from it various objects of strange shapes—leggings, mittens, buffalo robes, collars of grizzly bear claws; in a word, the complete costumes of Apache Indians.

The squatters disguised themselves as redskins; and when they had put on their garments, which rendered it impossible to recognise them, they completed the metamorphosis by painting their faces of different colours.

Assuredly the traveller whom accident had brought at this moment to the jacal would have fancied it inhabited by Apaches or Comanches.

The garments which the squatters had taken off were locked up in the chest, of which Red Cedar took the key; and the four men, armed with their American rifles, left the cabin, mounted their horses, which were awaiting them ready saddled, and started at full gallop through the winding forest paths.

At the moment they disappeared in the gloom Ellen stood in the doorway of the cabin, took a despairing glance in the direction where they had gone, and fell to the ground murmuring sadly—

"Good Heaven! What diabolical work are they going to perform this night?"