Читать книгу Gunfights & Revolutions (Texas War Trilogy) - Gustave Aimard - Страница 22

Table of Contents

The reader will probably consider that the means employed by Lanzi to get rid of the Indians were somewhat violent, and that he should not have had recourse to them save in the utmost extremity.

The justification of the half-breed is as simple as it is easy to give; the Indian braves, when they cross the Mexican border, indulge mercilessly in every possible riot, displaying the greatest cruelty toward the unhappy white men who fall into their hands, and for whom they testify a hatred which nothing can assuage.

Lanzi's position, alone, without help to expect from anyone, in an isolated spot, in the power of some fifty demons without faith or law, was most critical; the more so, as the Apaches, once they had been excited by strong liquors, the abuse of which causes them a species of raving madness, would no longer have recognized any restraint; their sanguinary character would have regained the upper hand, and they would have indulged in the most unjustifiable cruelty, for the mere pleasure of making an enemy of their race suffer.

The half-breed had, besides, peremptory reasons for behaving thus; he must, at all risks, ensure Carmela's safety, whom he had solemnly sworn to Tranquil to defend, even at the peril of his own life.

In the present case, he knew that his life or death depended solely on the caprice of the Indians, and hence he was quite reckless.

Lanzi was a cold, positive, and methodical man, who never acted till he had previously fully weighed the chances of success or failure. Under present circumstances, the half-breed ran no risk, for he knew that he was condemned by the Indians beforehand; if his plan succeeded, he might possibly escape; if not, he could die, but as a brave borderer should do, taking with him into the tomb a considerable number of his implacable foes.

His resolution once formed, it was carried out with the coolness we have described, and, thanks to his presence of mind, he had found time to leap on his horse and fly.

Still, all was not finished yet, and the galloping the half-breed heard behind him disturbed him greatly, by proving to him that his plan had not succeeded so well as he hoped, and that one of his enemies, at any rate, had escaped, and was on his track.

The half-breed redoubled his speed; he made his horse swerve from the straight line incessantly, in order to throw out his obstinate pursuer; but everything was of no avail, and still he heard him galloping behind him.

However brave a man may be, however great the energy is with which heaven has endowed him, nothing affects his courage so much as to feel himself menaced in the darkness by an invisible and unassailable foe; the obscurity of night, the silence that broods over the desert, the trees which in his mad race defile on his right and left like a legion of gloomy and threatening phantoms—all this combines to heighten the terrors of the hapless man who dashes along under the impression of a nightmare which is the more horrible, because he is conscious of danger, and knows not how to exorcise it.

Lanzi, with frowning brow, quivering lips, and forehead bathed with cold perspiration, rode thus for several hours across country, bowed over his horse's neck, following no settled course, but constantly pursued by the dry, sharp sound of the horse galloping after him.

Strangely enough, since he first heard this gallop, it had not appeared to draw any nearer; it might be thought that the strange horseman, satisfied with following the trail of the man he pursued, was not desirous of catching him up.

By degrees the half-breed's excitement calmed: the cold night air restored a little order to his ideas, his coolness returned, and with it the necessary clearness to judge of his position soundly.

Lanzi was ashamed of this puerile terror, so unworthy of a man like himself, which had for so long, through a selfish feeling, caused him to forget the sacred duty he had taken on himself, of protecting and defending at the peril of his life his friend's daughter.

At this thought, which struck him like a thunder-bolt, a burning blush flushed his face, a flash darted from his eyes, and he stopped his horse short, resolved on finishing once for all with his pursuer.

The horse, suddenly arrested in its stride, uttered a snort of pain, and remained motionless, at the same instant the galloping of the invisible steed ceased to be heard.

"Hilloah!" the half-breed muttered, "This is beginning to look ugly."

And drawing a pistol from his belt, he set the hammer. He immediately heard, like a funeral echo, the sharp sound of another hammer being set by his adversary.

Still, this sound, instead of increasing the half-breed's apprehensions, seemed, on the contrary, to calm them.

"What is the meaning of that?" he asked himself, mentally, as he shook his head, "Can I be mistaken? have I not to deal with an Apache?"

After this aside, during which Lanzi sought in vain to distinguish his unknown foe, he shouted in a loud voice:—

"Hilloah, who are you?"

"Who are you?" a masculine voice replied, emerging from the darkness, in a tone quite as resolute as that of the half-breed.

"That's a singular answer," Lanzi went on.

"Not more singular than the question."

These words were exchanged in excellent Spanish. The half-breed, now certain that he had to deal with a white man, banished all fear, and uncocking his pistol returned it to his girdle, as he said good-humouredly:—

"You must feel like myself, Caballero, inclined to draw breath after so long a ride; shall we rest together?"

"I wish for nothing better," the other answered.

"Why," a voice exclaimed, which the half-breed at once recognised, "it is Lanzi."

"Certainly," the latter shouted, joyfully, "Voto à brios, Doña Carmela, I did not hope to meet you here."

The three persons joined, and the explanations were short.

Fear does not calculate or reflect. Doña Carmela on one side, Lanzi on the other, filled with a vague terror, fled without attempting to account for the feeling that impelled them, exerted only by the instinct of self-preservation, that supreme weapon given by God to man with which to escape danger in extremities.

The only difference was, that the half-breed believed himself pursued by the Apaches, while Doña Carmela supposed them a-head of her.

When the young lady, on Lanzi's recommendation, left the venta, she rode blindly along the first path that presented itself.

Heaven willed it for her happiness that at the moment the house blew up with a terrible crash, Doña Carmela, half dead with fear and thrown from her horse, was found by a white hunter, who, moved with pity at the recital of the dangers that menaced her, generously offered to escort her to the Larch-tree hacienda, where she desired to proceed, in order to place herself under Tranquil's immediate protection.

Doña Carmela, after taking a scrutinizing glance at the hunter, whose honest look and open face were proofs of his loyalty, gratefully accepted his offer, fearing, as she did, that she might fall, in the darkness, among the Indian bands which were doubtless infesting the roads, and to which her ignorance of localities would have inevitably made her a prey.

The maiden and her guide set out therefore at once for the hacienda, but affected by numberless apprehensions, the gallop of the half-breed's horse made them believe a party of the enemy a-head of them, hence they had kept far enough behind to be able to turn and fly at the slightest suspicious movement on the part of their supposed enemies.

This explanation did away with all alarm, and Carmela and Lanzi were delighted at having met again thus providentially.

While the half-breed was telling his young mistress in what way he had disposed of the Apaches, the hunter, like a prudent man, had taken the horses by the bridle and led them into a thick coppice, where he carefully hid them. He then returned to his new friends, who had seated themselves on the ground, to enjoy a few moments of welcome rest.

At this moment, when the hunter returned, Lanzi was saying to his mistress—

"Why, señorita, should you fatigue yourself further this night? Our new friend and I will build you with a few axe strokes a jacal under which you will be famously sheltered; you will sleep till sunrise, and then we can start again for the hacienda. For the present you have no danger to fear, as you are protected by two men who will not hesitate to sacrifice their lives for you, if necessary."

"I thank you, my good Lanzi," the young lady answered; "your devotion is known to me, and I could not hesitate to trust to you if I were at this moment affected by fear of the Apaches. Believe me, that the thought of the perils I may have to incur from those pagans goes for nothing in my determination to start again immediately."

"What more important consideration can compel you, then, señorita?" the half-breed asked, in surprise.

"That, my friend, is an affair between my father and myself; it is sufficient for you to know that I must see and speak to him this very night."

"Be it so, as you wish it, señorita, I consent," the half-breed said, with a shake of his head; "still, you must allow that it is a very strange caprice on your part."

"No, my good Lanzi," she answered, sadly, "it is not a caprice; when you know the reasons that cause me, to act, I am convinced you will applaud me."

"That is possible; but if that is the case, why not tell me them, at once?"

"Because that is impossible."

"Silence!" the hunter interfered, quickly; "any discussion is unnecessary, for we must start as soon as we can."

"What do you mean?" they exclaimed, with a start of terror.

"The Apaches have found our trail; they are coming up quickly, and will be here within twenty minutes. This time there is no mistake, they are the men."

There was a lengthened silence.

Doña Carmela and Lanzi listened attentively.

"I hear nothing," the half-breed said, presently.

"Nor I," the maiden whispered.

The hunter smiled softly.

"You can hear nothing yet," he said, "for your ears are not accustomed, like mine, to catch the slightest sounds from the desert. Put faith in my words, trust to an experience which was never mistaken: your enemies are approaching."

"What is to be done?" Doña Carmela murmured.

"Fly," the half-breed exclaimed.

"Listen," the hunter said, quietly; "the Apaches are numerous, they are cunning, but we can only conquer them by cunning. If we try to resist we are lost; if we fly all three together, sooner or later we shall fall into their hands. While I remain here you will fly with señorita, but be careful to muffle your horses' hoofs so as to dull the sound."

"But you?" the maiden exclaimed quickly.

"Have I not told you? I shall remain here."

"Oh, in that case you will fall into the hands of the pagans, and be inevitably massacred."

"Perhaps so," he replied with an indescribable expression of sadness; "but at any rate my death will be of some service, as it will save you."

"Very well," said Lanzi; "I thank you for your offer, Caballero; unhappily, I cannot, and will not, accept it, for matters must not turn thus. I began the affair, and insist on ending it in my own way. Go away with the señorita, deliver her into her father's hands, and if you do not see me again, and he asks what has happened to me, tell him simply that I kept my promise, and laid down my life for her."

"I will never consent," Doña Carmela exclaimed energetically.

"Silence!" the half-breed hastily interrupted her, "Be off, you have not a moment to lose."

In spite of the young lady's resistance, he raised her in his muscular arms, and ran off with her into the thicket.

Carmela understood that nothing could change the half-breed's resolution, so she yielded to him.

The hunter accepted Lanzi's devotion as simply as he had offered his own, for the half-breed's conduct appeared to him perfectly natural; he therefore made not the slightest objection, but busied himself with getting the horses ready.

"Now begone," the half-breed said, so soon as the hunter and the maiden had mounted; "go, and may heaven be merciful to you!"

"And you, my friend?" Doña Carmela remarked sadly.

"I?" he answered with a careless toss of his head; "The red devils have not got me yet. Come, be off."

To cut short the conversation, the half-breed roughly lashed the horses with his chicote; the noble animals started at a gallop, and soon disappeared from his sight.

So soon as he was alone, the poor fellow gave vent to a sigh.

"Hum!" he muttered sadly; "This time I am very much afraid that it is all up with me; no matter, Canarios, I will fight to the last, and if the pagans catch me, it shall cost them dearly."

After forming this heroic resolution, which seemed to restore all his courage, the worthy man mounted his horse and prepared for action.

The Apaches dashed up with a noise resembling thunder.

The black outlines could already be distinguished through the darkness.

Lanzi took the bridle between his teeth, seized a pistol in either hand, and when he judged the moment propitious, he dug his spurs into his horse, dashed out in front of the Redskins, and crossed their front diagonally.

When within range, he fired his pistols into the group, gave a yell of defiance, and continued his flight with redoubled speed.

What the half-breed expected, really happened. His shots had told, and two Apaches fell with their chests pierced through and through. The Indians, furious at this audacious attack, which they were far from expecting from a single man, uttered a cry of fury, and dashed after him.

This was exactly what Lanzi wanted.

"There," he said on seeing the success of his scheme; "they are altogether now, and there is no fear of their scattering; the others are saved. As for me—bah, who knows?"

Doña Carmela and the hunter only escaped from the Apaches to fall in with the jaguars. We have seen how they were saved, thanks to Tranquil.