When Don Pedro and his two confidential agents first set out on their search for Doña Hermosa, under the auspices of Stoneheart, Ña Manuela, that devoted pure-hearted woman, refused to leave her master and her son. She had loudly claimed her share in the risks and perils they were about to encounter, asserting her right to accompany them in her quality of Doña Hermosa's nurse. The good woman had persisted so obstinately, that Don Pedro and Don Estevan, touched by her self-abnegation, could no longer resist her entreaties, and she had come with them. Ña Manuela had charge of the commissariat of the camp. As soon as night had completely closed in, she issued from the jacal, bearing refreshments, which she distributed with strict impartiality to all present, master and man. Unseen, the worthy woman had listened to the queries put to the vaquero. Her heart failed her at El Zapote's story; but she dissembled her grief, for fear of augmenting Don Pedro's anguish; and she appeared amongst the travellers with dry eyes and a smiling countenance.
However, time passed on; the hour for rest had come; one after another the peones rolled themselves in their zarapés, and slumbered peacefully, with the exception of the sentries posted to watch over the safety of the camp. Stoneheart, plunged in deep meditation, was reclining, with his head supported by his right arm; his companions now and then exchanged a few words, uttered in a low tone, that they might not disturb him. The vaquero, with characteristic carelessness, stretched himself out on the ground, indifferent to what was passing around him. His eyelids grew heavy; he was already in a state of semi – somnolence, when he was thoroughly roused to consciousness by Don Fernando, who shook him rudely.
"Holloa, señor! What is the matter?" said he, sitting up, and rubbing his eyes.
"Is it possible to trust you?"
"A question you asked once before, señor. I replied, 'Yes, if you pay me well.' Now, you have paid me royally. There was but one man in the world to whom I could attach myself sooner than to you – Don Torribio Quiroga. He is dead; you take his place. No dog would obey your slightest sign more faithfully than I."
"I am not now going to put your new fledged fidelity to any rude proof; I shall content myself with leaving you here. But remember to deal frankly with me, and without reservation; for as surely as I have not hesitated to pay you in advance in the bargain I have concluded with you, so surely will I not hesitate to kill you on the spot if you betray me. And take this to your soul: if you deceive me, no hiding place, however secret or remote, shall save you from my vengeance."
The vaquero bent his head, and answered unhesitatingly: "Señor Don Fernando, I swear, by the Cross of our Lord, who died for the remission of our sins, that I will be faithful to you unto the death."
"Good," said Stoneheart; "I believe you, Zapote. Sleep now, if you are able."
The vaquero did not wait for a repetition of the words, but rolled over, and was soon fast asleep.
"Señores," said Stoneheart, turning to his friends, "it is time for you to rest. As for me, I must watch a while. Be of good courage, Don Pedro; our position is far from desperate. The more I reflect, the surer I am we shall tear from the Tigercat the prey he holds in his grasp and longs to devour. Be not too anxious; and if you should not see me tomorrow, do not on any pretext leave this encampment till my return: my absence will not be long. Good night to all!" Having said this, Stoneheart crossed his arms on his breast, and returned to his sombre meditations.
His friends, respecting his wish to be alone, withdrew; and ten minutes later all the inmates in the camp, except Stoneheart and the sentinels, were asleep, or seemed to sleep.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CHASE
Deep silence prevailed through the wilderness, broken only at long intervals by the growling of the jaguar at the spring, or the barking of the prairie dog in his burrow. Stoneheart had not moved after his friends left him; he was so motionless, one would have thought him asleep, but for the occasional glitter of his eye through the darkness. Suddenly a hand was laid on his shoulder. He started up in an instant. Don Estevan stood beside him. Stoneheart greeted him with a smile. "You have something to tell me?" said he.
"I have," replied Don Estevan, seating himself at his side. "I waited till all were asleep before sought you out. You are meditating some daring exploit – perhaps an expedition to the camp of the Tigercat?"
Stoneheart replied by a smile.
"Have I guessed aright?" said the mayor domo.
"Perhaps you have, Estevan; but how does that concern you?"
"More than you think, Fernando. Such an expedition is as dangerous as can be imagined; you yourself said so. I will not let you commit so great a folly as to attempt it alone. Remember that, from our first meeting, we have been irresistibly attracted to each other; we are bound together by ties of friendship which nothing can sever. Everything ought to be in common between us. Who can tell the danger to which you would be exposed in the expedition you are about to undertake! This is what I have come to tell you: half of that danger is mine; I come to claim the share you have no right to withhold from me."
"Brother," replied Stoneheart, much moved, "I feared this would happen; I dreaded the demand you have just made. Alas! You have guessed truly; the expedition is indeed desperate, and who can say whether I shall succeed? But why link yourself to my evil fate? Has not my whole life been one long sorrow? It will make me happy to sacrifice it for the poor father, pining for the child who has been torn from him. Every man has a destiny in this world; mine is to be wretched. Let me fulfil it. Your destiny smiles upon you; you have a mother whom you cherish, and who adores you. I am alone. If I perish, none save yourself will regret me. Should you fall by my side, you leave me a lifelong sorrow for having caused your death. No length of life could obliterate my remorse."
"Fernando, my determination is irrevocable. Whatever you may say, I shall follow you. Fidelity is an heirloom in our family; and I must do this day what my father did not hesitate to do long ago for the family to whom we are attached. I repeat once more, Fernando, my duty compels me to be with you."
"Think no more of it, Estevan; think of your mother, and her grief."
"I think of nothing but what honour bids me."
"Estevan, I cannot consent to what you wish. Again I say, think of your mother's grief if she should lose you."
"My mother, Fernando, would be the first to bid me go, were she here."
"Spoken like a man!" said a gentle voice behind them. They turned, and saw Ña Manuela. "I have heard all," she said. "Thanks, Don Fernando, for speaking as you did; I will never forget your words. But Estevan is right: duty compels him to follow you. You lose your time in trying to dissuade him. He springs from a race who never tamper with their duty. Let him go with you. If he falls, I shall weep, – perhaps I shall die; but I shall die blessing him, for he will fall in the service of those whom, through five generations, we have sworn to serve faithfully."
Stoneheart gazed with admiration at the mother who did not hesitate to sacrifice her son to her sense of duty, regardless of the boundless love she bore him. He felt himself a weakling, compared with this self-denial. Words failed him, and he could only manifest by signs his acquiescence in a wish so energetically expressed.
"Go, my sons," she continued, raising her eyes to heaven with an expression of holy fervour; "God, who sees all, sees your devotedness. He will reward you. The rule of the wicked on earth is short; the protection of the Almighty will be with you – will defend you in every danger. Go without fear; He tells me you will prosper in your undertaking. Farewell!"
"Farewell, mother," replied the two men, moved even to tears.
The noble woman pressed them to her heart, but could not part from them without an effort. "Remember this law," she said, – "it is the basis of honour: do your duty, whatever may happen. Farewell, farewell!" She turned, and hastily entered the jacal for, in spite of herself, tears were regaining the mastery, and she would weaken their resolution. The others were silent for a time, looking steadfastly at the jacal.
"You see," said Don Estevan, at last, "my mother herself orders me to follow you."
"Be it as you will, then," said Stoneheart, with a sigh; "I will no longer oppose your wishes."
"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed the mayor domo.
Stoneheart carefully examined the heavens. "It is two o'clock," he said; "at half past three it will be daylight. We must go."
Don Estevan left him, to bring up the horses. They were soon saddled. The men left the camp, gave their horses the spur, and dashed into the desert. By sunrise they had ridden six leagues. They were following the course of one of those nameless rivers which traverse the wilderness in every direction, and ultimately fall into some larger stream.
"Let us halt here a while," said Stoneheart; "first to breathe our horses, and then to take a few precautions indispensable to our success."
Dismounting, they took the bits from the horses' mouths, leaving them at liberty to crop the luxuriant grass on the banks of the river.
"The time has come, Estevan," said Don Fernando, "when I must teach you something, without which it would be impossible to avoid the dangers we are about to encounter; I must reveal a secret known only to us, 'the bee-hunters.' Hardly two leagues farther on, we shall have to enter the swamps, swarming with serpents, and we must take the requisite precautions against their fatal bite, for every reptile we shall meet on the road will be of the most venomous species."
"The devil!" ejaculated Don Estevan, turning somewhat pale.
"I will give you a lesson. When we have once put on our armour, we can trample with impunity on the heads of the most dangerous."
"¡Caray!" replied Don Estevan; "your secret is worth knowing."
"You shall prove it soon. Come with me. Of course you are acquainted with the guaco?"
"Certainly. I have often helped it in his battles with snakes."
"Very well. I dare say you are ignorant of the means this intelligent bird employs to heal the wounds in the mortal combats which always terminate in the destruction of the reptile?"
"I confess, Fernando, that I have never attempted to fathom the mystery."
"Then it is lucky, Estevan, that I have thought for both. Come, close at hand I see several stems of the mikania twisting round the cork trees: That is what we want. We will take a supply of the leaves of the guaco creeper."
Don Estevan, without troubling his head concerning his friend's intentions, set about collecting the leaves of the creeper he had pointed out. By dint of exertion, a goodly number were soon heaped upon the ground. When Stoneheart deemed the quantity sufficient, he gathered them up in his zarapé, and returned to the spot where they had left their horses. Without further explanation, he began to pound the leaves on a flat stone he brought from the edge of the water. Don Estevan, taking great interest in the mysterious operation, occupied himself in collecting in a coui (or gourd) the juice which ran from the leaves as Stoneheart crushed them. The work lasted an hour, by which time the coui was filled to the brim with a greenish liquid.
"What are we to do now?" said Don Estevan, puzzled more and more.
"That is a delicate question, my friend," replied Stoneheart, with a laugh. "We must undress; then, with the point of the navaja, we will make longitudinal incisions in our breasts, our arms, thighs, and between the fingers and toes, just deep enough to cause blood to flow. Afterwards, we will carefully inject the liquid we have collected into these incisions. Have you sufficient courage to inoculate yourself with the mikaniajuice?"
"Certainly, Fernando, though the operation will be painful. But what good will it do us?"
"Only the least in the world! We shall be invulnerable. We shall be able to trample thousands of snakes under our feet; and their bites shall do us no more harm than the prick of a pin." Stoneheart said no more, but undressed himself, and coolly began to make incisions in his body. Don Estevan followed his example. After slicing themselves in this fashion, they rubbed the cuts with the juice of the creeper, leaving the liquid time to dry in before they resumed their dress.
"Well, that is done," said Stoneheart. "We need not keep our horses: the poor brutes would infallibly perish, for we cannot insure them from the serpents. We will leave them here, and pick them up when we return; only let us hobble them well, for fear they should stray too far."
The saddles were carefully hidden under some bushes, and the two hardy adventurers commenced their journey on foot, trailing their rifles, and holding in one hand a slender but tough twig of mesquite, to cut the reptiles in two which might dispute their passage. They marched rapidly, one behind the other, shaking the grasses on right and left with their rods, to dislodge the snakes, and following a track left by a numerous body of horsemen.
Suddenly they saw a dead body before them horribly swollen and putrified, over which they were obliged to step.
"Ah!" said Stoneheart, "Here lies a poor wretch, who probably did not know the uses of the guaco creeper."
Just at that moment, a sharp hissing was heard, and a beautiful little snake, about as thick as the little finger, and seven or eight inches long, crept from under the corpse, raised itself upon its tail, and, darting with wonderful rapidity, fixed itself on Stoneheart's right leg.
"Your pardon, my good fellow," said he coolly; "you have made a mistake!" and, seizing it by the tail, he swung it round, and crushed its head on the ground. "It is a ribbon snake," he added; "bitten by him, you have just eleven minutes to live. You grow first yellow, then green; then you begin to swell, and all is over – with this exception: you have the consolation of changing colour once more, this time from green to black. It is odd, is it not, Estevan?"
"¡Caray!" replied the latter, who could not help shuddering; "Yours was a lucky thought, Fernando."
"Do you think so, Estevan?"
"By heavens! It is self-evident. Ha! Crush that coral snake coiling round your leg!"
"Why, really, so he is! Well, he is a gentleman who takes liberties!" Saying this, he seized the reptile, and crushed him. "It is a lovely country," he continued. "It is quite diverting to travel here. Halloa! more bodies! – This time a man and horse. They have died together. Poor brute!"
And thus they went on all day. The farther they advanced, the more numerous were the snakes; they met them by threes and fours together. At intervals they found more bodies stretched across their path, proving that they were still on the right trail, and that the Tigercat had left the greater number of his companions on the road. With all their courage, they could not refrain from shuddering at the frightful spectacles they had witnessed in passing through this dreadful place.
Suddenly Stoneheart stopped, bent his body forward, made a sign to his friend to be still, and listened anxiously. "If I am not mistaken," he whispered, "somebody is coming this way."
"Someone!" exclaimed the astonished Estevan. "Impossible!"
"And why so? We are here, and why not others?"
"Quite right: but who can it be?"
"We shall soon see;" and he dragged his companion behind a thick bush, where they crouched for concealment.
"Cock your rifle, Estevan. Who can tell whom we may have to meet?"
The mayor domo obeyed. Both kept motionless, expecting the arrival of the individual, whose steps were now clearly distinguishable.
During the last hour, the path our adventurers were pursuing had gradually begun to rise, with frequent turnings – a sure proof that they were quitting the swamps, and approaching the region which was free from reptiles.
Stoneheart soon saw a shadow thrown across an angle in the path, and immediately afterwards a man appeared. Stoneheart recognised him directly by his tall stature and long white beard. It was the Tigercat. Stoneheart whispered a few words in his companion's ear, and, drawing himself together, bounded at one spring into the middle of the path. The Tigercat showed no surprise at this sudden apparition. "I was coming to look for you," he said calmly, as he halted.
"Then your task is finished," said Stoneheart, "for here I am."
"No, it is not ended; for, while you show yourself in my camp, I shall go to yours."
"You think so?" said Stoneheart, with a mocking laugh.
"Certainly. Do you think to bar my passage?"
"Why not? Is it not mine to settle affairs between us?"
"For my part, I see no reason. You are not looking for me, I suppose?"
"You are wrong, Tigercat! I came here on purpose to seek you."
"Me, and another person."
"You, first of all; for we have a long account to settle."
"We are losing time," said the Tigercat impatiently. "Listen, and try to understand me. Doña Hermosa is close by; she expects you, for I have promised to bring you together. She has charged me with certain messages to her father; and on that account I must go to your camp. But first, I will lead you to mine – a sad one: of all my followers, but four are left; the rest are dead."
"I know; I saw their bodies on the road. It is you who have slain them. Why did you lead them here?"
"Never mind. What is done cannot be undone. But time presses; will you follow me? I wish to deal openly with you."
"No! I do not trust you. Why have you come into this fearful place?"
"Did you not guess, my son? Merely to be sure that my prisoner was safe."
"You made a mistake, for I am here."
"Perhaps I did. But enough of this. Here, take my rifle. Tell your friend, the barrel of whose rifle I see gleaming through the branches, to come from behind his bush. Perchance you will not be afraid to follow me now, when I am unarmed, and you two to one."
Stoneheart reflected for a moment, and then said: "Come forth, Estevan!"
His friend was at his side in a moment.
"Keep your rifle," said Stoneheart to the Tigercat; "no one must travel in the wilderness without weapons."
"Thanks, Fernando," replied the old chief; "I see you have not forgotten the old rule: a backwoodsman never quits his rifle."
The Tigercat turned and led the way to his camp, the two others following exactly in his footsteps. In about an hour they reached it, pitched halfway up the Voladero, in a spacious cavern. The chief had told the truth – only four out of all his men survived.
"Before going farther," he said, when they got there, "I have a condition to exact."
"To exact!" said Stoneheart ironically, emphasizing the words.
The Tigercat shrugged his shoulders. "At a sign from me, those men will stab Doña Hermosa to the heart without hesitation; you see, I have the power to exact."
"Speak, then," said Stoneheart, trembling for her sake.
"I will leave you here alone with Doña Hermosa. I, your friend, and my four comrades, will leave the Voladero at once. In two days, and not before, you will quit the mountain, and come to your camp, where you will find me."
"Why do you impose this condition?"
"You have nothing to do with that: is it so hard, that you will not submit to it? But, briefly, I do not choose to explain; answer – yes or no. Except on this condition you shall not see Doña Hermosa."
"How do I know whether she is still alive?"
"What good would it have done me to kill her?"
Stoneheart hesitated for a moment. "I accept the conditions," said he at last; "I will stay here two days."
"Good! Now go to her; as for us we will leave you."
"One instant longer! My friend – will you be answerable for his safety? I know I can trust your word."
"I swear to you, I will look upon him as my own friend as long as he remains with me, and you shall find him safe and sound in the camp."
"Enough. Farewell, Estevan; console Don Pedro, and tell him on what conditions his daughter has been restored."
"I will tell them to him myself," said the Tigercat, his mouth contorted with a strange expression.
Stoneheart and Don Estevan bade each other farewell; then the former rapidly approached the cavern, while the Tigercat, his four followers, and the mayor domo, went down the path into the plains. On reaching the nearest trees, the Tigercat halted for a moment, and turned to the cavern into which Stoneheart had just entered. "Aha!" he exclaimed, with a sinister smile, and rubbing his hands with delight; "At last I am sure of my revenge!"
He followed his companion, and they were soon lost to sight, behind the intervening foliage.