The Trapper's Daughter: A Story of the Rocky Mountains

Spider rejoined his party without imparting his discovery to anyone; but Sunbeam, by whose side he was riding, suddenly tapped him on the shoulder, to attract his attention.

"Look there, warrior," she said, pointing a little to the left "does that look like a man marching?"

The Indian stopped, put his hand over his eyes as a shade, to concentrate his attention, and examined for a long time the point the chief's squaw pointed out. At length he set out again, shaking his head repeatedly.

"Well, what does my brother think?" Sunbeam asked.

"It is a man," he answered; "from here it appears an Indian, and yet I either saw badly, or am mistaken."

"How so?"

"Listen: you are the wife of the first chief of the tribe, and so I can tell you this, there is something strange about the affair. A few minutes back I discovered footprints; by the direction they follow it is plain they were made by that man – the more so, as they are fresh, as if made a little while ago."

"Well?"

"These are not the footprints of a redskin, but of a white."

"That is really strange," the squaw muttered and became serious; "but are you quite sure of what you assert?"

The Indian smiled contemptuously.

"Spider is a warrior," he said; "a child of eight years could have seen it as well as I; the feet are turned out, while the Indians turn them in; the great toe is close to the others, while ours grow out considerably. With such signs, I ask my sister can a man be deceived?"

"That is true," she said; "I cannot understand it."

"And stay," he continued; "now we are nearer the man, just watch his behaviour, it is plain he is trying to hide himself; he fancies we have not yet remarked him, and is acting in accordance. He is stooping down behind that mastic: now he reappears. See, he stops, he is reflecting; he fears lest we have seen him, and his walking may appear suspicious to us. Now he is sitting down to await us."

"We must be on our guard," said Sunbeam.

"I am watching," Spider replied, with an ill-omened smile.

In the meanwhile all Spider had described had taken place, point by point. The stranger, after trying several times to hide himself behind the bushes or disappear in the mountains, calculated that if he fled the persons he saw could soon catch him up, as he was dismounted. Then, making up his mind to risk it, he sat down with his back against a tamarind tree, and quietly smoked while awaiting the arrival of the horsemen, who were quickly coming up.

The nearer the Comanches came to this man, the more like an Indian he looked. When they were only a few paces from him, all doubts were at an end; he was, or seemed to be, one of those countless vagabond sorcerers who go from tribe to tribe in the Far West to cure the sick and practice their enchantment. In fact, the sorcerer was no other than Nathan, as the reader has doubtless guessed.

After so nobly recompensing the service rendered him by the poor juggler, whose science had not placed him on his guard against such abominable treachery, Nathan went off at full speed, resolved on crossing the enemy's lines, thanks to the disguise he wore with rare perfection.

When he perceived the horsemen, he attempted to fly; but unfortunately for him he was tired, and in a part so open and denuded of chaparral, that he soon saw, if he attempted to bolt, he should inevitably ruin himself by arousing the suspicions of these men, who, on the other hand, as they did not know him, would probably pass him with a bow. He also calculated on the superstitious character of the Indians and his own remarkable stock of impudence and boldness to deceive them.

These reflections Nathan made with that speed and certainty which distinguish men of action; he made up his mind in a moment, and sitting down at the foot of a tree, coolly awaited the arrival of the strangers. Moreover, we may remark, that Nathan was gifted with daring and indomitable spirit; the critical position in which chance suddenly placed him, instead of frightening pleased him, and caused him a feeling which was not without its charm with a man of his stamp. He boldly assumed the borrowed character, and when the Indians stopped in front of him, he was the first to speak.

"My sons are welcome to my bivouac," he said, with that marked guttural accent that belongs to the red race alone, and which the white men have such difficulty in imitating; "as the Wacondah has brought them here, I will strive to fulfil his intentions by receiving them as well as I possibly can."

"Thanks," Spider replied, giving him a scrutinising glance; "we accept our brother's offer as freely as it is made. My young men will camp with him."

He gave his orders, which were immediately carried out. As on the previous evening. Spider built a hut for the females, to which they immediately withdrew. The sorcerer had given them a glance which made them shudder all over.

After supper; Spider lit his pipe and sat down near the sorcerer; he wished to converse with him and clear up, not his suspicions, but the doubts he entertained about him. The Indian, however, felt for this man an invincible repulsion for which he could not account. Nathan, although smoking with all the gravity the redskins display in this operation, and wrapping himself up in a dense cloud of smoke, which issued from his mouth and nostrils, closely watched all the Indian's movements, while not appearing to trouble himself about him.

"My father is travelling?" Spider asked.

"Yes," the pretended sorcerer laconically replied.

"Has he done so long?"

"For eight moons."

"Wah!" the Indian said in surprise; "Where does my father come from, then?"

Nathan took, his pipe from his lips, assumed a mysterious air, and answered gravely and reservedly —

"The Wacondah is omnipotent, those to whom the Master of Life speaks, keep his words in their heart."

"That is just," Spider, who did not understand him, answered, with a bow.

"My son is a warrior of the terrible queen of the prairies?" the sorcerer went on.

"I am indeed, a Comanche warrior."

"Is my son on the hunting path?"

"No, I am at this moment on the war trail."

"Wah! Does my son hope to deceive a great medicine man, that he utters such word before him?"

"My words are true, my blood runs pure as water in my veins, a lie never sullied my lips, my heart only breathes the truth," Spider answered, with a certain haughtiness, internally wounded by the sorcerer's suspicions.

"Good, I am willing to believe him," the latter went on; "but when did the Comanches begin to take their squaws with them on the war path?"

"The Comanches are masters of their actions; no one has a right to control them."

Nathan felt that he was on a wrong track, and that if the conversation went on in this way, he should offend a man whom he had such an interest in conciliating. He therefore altered his tactics.

"I do not claim any right," he said quietly, "to control the acts of warriors for am I not a man of peace?"

Spider smiled contemptuously.

"In truth," he said, in a good-humoured tone, "great medicine men such as my father are like women, they live a long time; the Wacondah protects them."

The sorcerer refrained from noticing the bitter sarcasm the speaker displayed in his remark.

"Is my son returning to his village?" he asked him.

"No," the other answered, "I am going to join the great chief of my tribe, who is on an expedition, with his most celebrated warriors."

"To what tribe does my son belong, then?"

"To that of Unicorn."

Nathan trembled inwardly, though his face remained unmoved.

"Wah!" he said, "Unicorn is a great chief; his renown is spread over the whole earth. What warrior could contend with him on the prairie?"

"Does my father know him?"

"I have not the honour, though I have often desired it; never to this day have I been able to meet the celebrated chief."

"If my father desires it, I will introduce him."

"It would be happiness for me; but the mission the Wacondah has confided to me claims my presence far from here. Time presses; and, in spite of my desire, I cannot leave my road."

"Good! Unicorn is hardly three hours march from the spot where we now are; we shall reach his camp at an early hour tomorrow."

"How is it that my son, who seems to me a prudent warrior, should have halted here, when so near his chief?"

All suspicion had been removed from the Indian's mind, so he answered frankly this time, without trying to disguise the truth, and laying all reticence aside.

"My father is right. I would certainly have continued my journey to the chief's camp, and reached it this evening before the shriek of the owl, but the two squaws with me delayed me and compelled me to act as I have done."

"My son is young," Nathan answered, with an insinuating smile.

"My father is mistaken; the squaws are sacred to me; I love and respect them. The one is Unicorn's own wife, who is returning to her husband; the other is a paleface, her hair is white as the snow that passes over our heads driven by the evening breeze, and her body is bowed beneath the weight of winters; she is the mother of a great hunter of the palefaces, the adopted son of our tribe, whose name has doubtless reached our father's ears."

"How is he called?"

"Koutonepi."

At this name, which he might have expected, however, Nathan involuntarily gave such a start that Spider perceived it.

"Can Koutonepi be an enemy of my father?" he asked, with astonishment.

"On the contrary," Nathan hastened to reply; "the men protected by the Wacondah have no enemies, as my son knows. The joy I felt on hearing his name uttered caused the emotion my son noticed."

"My father must have powerful reasons for displaying such surprise."

"I have, indeed, very powerful," the sorcerer replied with feigned delight; "Koutonepi saved my mother's life."

This falsehood was uttered with such magnificent coolness, and such a well-assumed air of truth, that the Indian was convinced and bowed respectfully to the pretended sorcerer.

"In that case," he said, "I am certain that my father will not mind leaving his road a little to see the man to whom he is attached by such strong ties of gratitude; for it is very probable that we shall meet Koutonepi at Unicorn's camp."

Nathan made a grimace; as usually happens to rogues, who try to prove too much, in dissipating suspicions at all hazards, he had caught himself. Now he understood that, unless he wished to become again suspected, he must undergo the consequences of his falsehood and go with Spider to his destination. The American did not hesitate; he trusted to his star to get him out of the scrape. Chance is, before all, the deity of bandits; they count on it, and we are forced to concede that they are rarely deceived.

"I will accompany my son to Unicorn's camp," he said.

The conversation went on for some time, and when the night had quite set in, Spider took leave of the sorcerer, and following his custom since the beginning of the journey, lay down across the door of the hut in which the two females reposed and speedily fell asleep.

Left alone by the fire, Nathan took a searching glance around; the sentinels, motionless as statues of bronze, were watching as they leant on their long lances. Any flight was impossible. The American gave a sigh of regret, wrapped himself in his buffalo robe, and lay down, muttering —

"Bah! Tomorrow it will be day. Since I have succeeded in deceiving this man, why should I not do the same with the others?"

And he fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXXI

WHITE GAZELLE

The night passed quietly.

As soon as the sun appeared on the horizon, all were in motion in the camp, preparing for departure. The horses were saddled, the ranks formed, the two females left the hut, placed themselves in the middle of the detachment, and only the order to start was awaited. Nathan, then acting in conformity with his sorcerer's character, took a calabash, which he filled with water, and dipping a branch of wormwood in it, he sprinkled the four winds, muttering mysterious words to exorcise the spirit of evil; then he threw the contents of the calabash toward the sun, shouting in a loud voice, three different times —

"Sun, receive this offering; regard us with a favourable eye, for we are thy children."

So soon as this ceremony was ended, the Indians joyously set out. The sorcerers incantation had pleased them, the more so as at the moment of starting, four bald-headed eagles, unfurling their wide wings, had slowly risen on their right, mounting in a straight line to heaven, when they soon disappeared at a prodigious height. The omens were, therefore, most favourable, and the sorcerer suddenly acquired immense importance in the eyes of the superstitious Comanches.

Still, two persons felt a prejudice for this man which they could not overcome: they were Sunbeam and the hunter's mother. Each moment they involuntarily looked at the sorcerer, who, warned by a species of intuition of the scrutiny of which he was the object, kept at a respectful distance, walking at the head of the party by the side of Spider, with whom he conversed in a low voice to keep him by him, and prevent him joining the two females, who might have communicated their suspicions to him.

The party ambled through a grand and striking scenery; here and there they saw, scattered irregularly over the plains, spherically shaped rocks, whose height varied from two to four, and even five hundred feet. On the east rose the spires of the Sierra de los Comanches, among which the travellers now were. The denuded peaks raised their white summits to the skies, extending far north, until they appeared in the horizon only a slight vapour, which an inexperienced eye might have taken for clouds, but the Comanches recognised very plainly as a continuation of the Rocky Mountains. On the left of the travellers, and almost at their feet, extended an immense desert, bordered on the distant horizon by another line of almost imperceptible vapour, marking the site of the Rocky Chain.

The Indians ascended insensibly, by almost impracticable paths, where their horses advanced so boldly, however, that they seemed rooted to the ground, so secure was their foothold. As they got deeper into the mountains the cold grew sharper; at length, about nine o'clock, after crossing a deep gorge let in between two tall mountains, whose masses intercepted the sunbeams, they entered a smiling valley about three miles in extent, in the centre of which the tents rose and the campfires smoked.

So soon as the vedettes signalled the approach of Spider's detachment, some sixty warriors mounted and rode to meet them, firing guns, and uttering shouts of welcome, to which the newcomers responded by blowing their war whistles, from which they produced sharp and prolonged sounds.

They then entered the camp, and proceeded toward Unicorn's hut; the chief, already informed of the arrival of the reinforcement he expected, was standing with folded arms before his calli, between the totem and the great calumet. Unicorn inspected the warriors with a rapid glance, and noticed the two females and the strange sorcerer they brought with them; still he did not appear to see them: his face revealed no sign of emotion: and he waited stoically for Spider to give him a report of his mission.

The Comanche warrior dismounted, threw his bridle to one of his comrades, crossed his hands on his chest, bowed deeply each time he took a step, and on arriving a short distance from the sachem, he bowed a last time as he said —

"Spider has accomplished his mission: he put on gazelle's feet to return more speedily."

"Spider is an experienced warrior, in whom I have entire confidence. Does he bring me the number of young men I asked of the nation?" Unicorn replied.

"The elders assembled round the council fire, they lent an ear to Spider's words. The twenty young warriors are here, boiling with courage, and proud to follow on the war trail so terrible a chief as my father."

Unicorn smiled proudly at this compliment; but assuming almost immediately the rigid expression which was the usual character of his face, he said —

"I have heard the song of the centzontle, my ear was struck by the melodious modulations of its voice. Am I mistaken, or has it really formed its nest beneath the thick foliage of the oaks or pines in this valley?"

"My father is mistaken; he has not heard the song of the nightingale, but the voice of the friend of his heart has reached, him and caused him to start," Sunbeam said softly, as she timidly approached him.

The chief looked at his wife with a mixture of love and sternness.

"Soul of my life," he said, "why have you left the village? Is your place among the warriors? Ought the wife of a chief to join him on the war trail without permission?"

The young squaw let her eyes fall, and two liquid pearls trembled at the end of her long eyelashes.

"Unicorn is severe to his wife," she replied sadly; "winter is coming on apace, the tall trees have been stripped of their leaves, the snow is falling on the mountains, Sunbeam is restless in her solitary lodge; for many moons the chief has left his squaw alone, and gone away; she wished to see once more the man she loves."

"Sunbeam is the wife of a chief, her heart is strong; she has often been separated from Unicorn, and ever awaited his return without complaining; why is her conduct different today?"

The young woman took Madame Guillois's hand.

"Koutonepi's mother wishes to see her son again," she simply answered.

Unicorn's face grew brighter, and his voice softened.

"My brother's mother is welcome in Unicorn's camp," he said, as he courteously bowed to the old lady.

"Is not my son with you, chief?" she anxiously asked.

"No, but my mother can be at rest; if she desire it, she shall see him before the second sun."

"Thanks, chief."

"I will send a warrior to tell Koutonepi of his mother's presence among us."

"I will go myself," Spider said.

"Good! That is settled. My mother will enter my lodge to take the rest she needs."

The two females withdrew, and only one person now remained before Unicorn, and that was the feigned sorcerer. The two men examined each other attentively.

"Oh," the chief said, "what fortunate accident brings my father to my camp?"

"The messengers of Wacondah go whither he orders them without discussing his will," Nathan answered drily.

"That is true," the chief went on; "what does my father desire?"

"Hospitality for the night."

"Hospitality is granted even to an enemy in the desert; is my father ignorant of the customs of the prairie, that he asks it of me?" the chief said, giving him a suspicious look.

Nathan bit his lips.

"My father did not quite understand my words," he said.

"No matter," Unicorn interrupted him authoritatively; "the Great Medicine man will pass the night in the camp; a guest is sacred to the Comanches; only traitors, when they are unmasked, are punished as they deserve. My father can retire."

Nathan shuddered inwardly at these words, which apparently indicated that the sachem had his suspicions. Still, he shut up his fears in his heart, and continued to keep a good countenance.

"Thanks," he said with a bow.

Unicorn returned his salute, and walked away.

"Hum!" the American muttered to himself; "I fancy I did wrong to venture among these demons; the eyes of that accursed chief seemed to read me through. I must be on my guard."

While making these reflections, Nathan walked slowly on, with head erect, apparently delighted at the result of his interview with Unicorn. At this moment, a rider entered the valley at full speed, and passed two paces from the sorcerer, exchanging a glance with him. Nathan started.

"If she recognised me, I am a gone 'coon," he said.

It was White Gazelle, whom the Comanches saluted as she passed, and she proceeded to Unicorn's lodge.

"I am in the wolf's throat," Nathan went on; "my presumption will cause my ruin. There is one thing a man cannot disguise, and that is his eye; the Gazelle knows me too well to be deceived; I must try to get away while there is still time."

Nathan was too resolute a man to despair uselessly; he did not lose a moment in idle lamentations; on the contrary, with that clearness of perception which danger gives to courageous people, he calculated in a few moments the chances of success left him, and prepared for a desperate struggle. He knew too well the horrible punishment that menaced him, not to defend his life to the last extremity.

Without stopping, or altering his pace, he walked on in the previous direction, returning the salutes the warriors gave him. Thus he reached, undisturbed, the end of the camp. He did not dare turn his head to see what was going on behind, him; but his practised ear listened for every suspicious sound; nothing apparently confirmed his apprehensions, and the camp was still plunged in the same repose.

"I was mistaken," he, muttered; "she did not recognise me. My disguise is good, I was too easily frightened. It would, perhaps, be better to remain. Oh no, it is not," he added almost directly; "I feel convinced I am not safe there."

He took a step to enter the forest; but at this moment a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He stopped and turned; Spider was by his side.

"Where is my father going?" the warrior asked, in a slightly sarcastic voice, well adapted to increase the American's alarm; "I think he must be mistaken."

"Why so?" Nathan asked, striving to regain his coolness.

"In the way my father is going, he is leaving the camp."

"Well, what then?"

"Did not my father ask hospitality of the sachem?"

"Yes, I did."

"Then, why is he going away?"

"Who told you I was going, warrior?"

"Why, I fancy the direction you have taken leads to the forest."

"I am well aware of that, for I was going there to pluck some magic plants, in order to compose a great medicine, which I wish to offer the chief to render him invulnerable."

"Wah!" the Indian said, with sparkling eyes; "when you tell him that, I do not doubt he will let you go wherever you please."

"What, am I a prisoner, then?"

"Not at all; but the order has been given that no one should leave the camp without permission; and as you did not ask for it, I am forced, to my great regret, to stop you."

"Very well; I remain, but I will remember the way in which the Comanches offer hospitality."

"My father does wrong to speak thus; the honour of the nation demands that this matter should be settled without delay. My father will follow me to the chief; I am certain that, after a short explanation, all misunderstanding will cease."

Nathan scented a trap. Spider, while speaking to him, had a soothing way, which only slightly reassured him. The proposal made him was not at all to his taste; but as he was not the stronger, and had no chance of evasion, he consented, much against the grain, to follow Spider and return to Unicorn's lodge.

"Let us go," he said to the Indian.

Nathan silently followed Spider. Unicorn was seated before his lodge, surrounded by his principal chiefs; near him stood White Gazelle, leaning on her rifle barrel. When the pretended sorcerer arrived, the Indians did not give the slightest intimation that they knew who he was. The American took a sharp look round.

"I am done," he muttered to himself, "they are too quiet."

Still, he placed himself before them, crossed his arms on his chest, and waited. Then White Gazelle fixed on him an implacable glance, and said, in a voice which made his blood run cold: —

"Nathan, the chiefs wish you to perform one of those miracles of which the sorcerers of their tribes possess the secret, and of which they are so liberal."

All eyes were curiously turned to the American; all awaited his reply to judge whether he was a brave man or coward. He understood this, for he shrugged his shoulders with, disdain, and answered, with a haughty smile:

"The Comanches are dogs and old women – the men of my nation drive them back with whips. They pretend to be so clever, and yet a white man has deceived them, and had it not been for you, Niña, deuce take me if they would have detected me."

"Then you confess you are not an Indian sorcerer?"