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?"

"Of course I do. This Indian skin I have put on smells unpleasantly, and oppresses me; I throw it off to resume my proper character, which I ought never to have left."

White Gazelle turned with a smile to Unicorn.

"The chief sees," she said.

"I do see," he replied, and addressing the American, he asked – "Is my brother a warrior in his nation?"

The other grinned.

"I am," he answered, dauntlessly, "the son of Red Cedar, the implacable foe of your accursed race; my name is Nathan. Do with me what you like, dogs, but you will not draw a complaint from my lips, a tear from my eyes, or a sigh from my lips."

At these haughty words a murmur of satisfaction ran round the audience.

"Ah!" Unicorn said, to whom White Gazelle had whispered, "What was Red Cedar's son doing in the camp of the Comanches?"

"I should be greatly embarrassed to tell you, chief," the young man answered, frankly; "I was not looking for you, but only wished to cross your lines and escape. That was all."

An incredulous smile played round White Gazelle's lips.

"Does Nathan take us for children," she said, "that he tries so clumsily to deceive us?"

"Believe me what you please, I do not care; I have answered you the truth."

"You will not persuade us that you fell unwittingly among your enemies while thus disguised."

"You have done so too, Niña; one is not more extraordinary than the other, I presume. However, I repeat accident did it all."

"Hum! that is not very probable; your father and brother are in the vicinity through the same accident, I suppose?"

"As for them, may the devil twist my neck if I know where they are at this moment."

"I expected that answer from you; unluckily warriors have scattered in every direction, and will soon find them."

"I do not believe it; however, what do I care? All the better for them if they escape; all the worse if they fall into your hands."

"I need not tell you, I fancy, the fate that awaits you?"

"I have known it a long time; the worthy redskins will probably amuse themselves with flaying me alive, roasting me at a slow fire, or some other politeness of that sort. Much good may it do them."

"Suppose they spared your life, would you not reveal where your father, brother, and that excellent Fray Ambrosio are?"

"I would not. Look you, I am a bandit, I allow it, but, Niña, I am neither a traitor nor an informer. Regulate your conduct by that, and if you are curious to see a man die well, I invite you to be present at my punishment."

"Well?" Unicorn asked the girl.

"He will not speak," she replied; "although he displays great resolution, perhaps the torture you will make him undergo may overcome his courage, and he consent to speak."

"Hum!" the chief went on, "my sister's advice is – "

"My advice," she quickly interrupted, "is to be as pitiless to him as he has been to others."

"Good!"

The chief pointed to the American.

"Take him away," he said, "and let all the preparations be made for torture."

"Thanks," Nathan replied; "at any rate you will not make me languish, that is a consolation."

"Wait before you rejoice, till you have undergone the first trial," White Gazelle said ironically.

Nathan made no answer, but went away whistling with two warriors. They fastened him securely to the trunk of a tree, and left him alone, after assuring themselves that he could not move, and consequently flight was impossible. The young man watched them go off, and then fell on the ground, carelessly muttering —

"The disguise was good for all that; had it not been for that she-devil, I must have escaped."

CHAPTER XXXII
THE ESCAPE

Red Cedar had seen his son tied up, from the tree where he was concealed. This sight suddenly stopped him; he found himself just over the Comanche camp, in a most perilous situation, as the slightest false movement, by revealing his presence, would be sufficient to destroy him. Sutter and Fray Ambrosio in turn parted the branches and looked down at Nathan, who certainly was far from suspecting that the persons he had left on the previous day were so near him.

In the meanwhile the shadows gradually invaded the clearing, and soon all objects were confounded in the gloom, which was rendered denser by the gleam of the fires lighted from distance to distance, and which shed an uncertain light around. The squatter did not love his son; for he was incapable of feeling affection for more than one person, and it was concentrated on Ellen. Nathan's life or death, regarded in the light of paternal love, was of very slight consequence to him; but in the situation where his unlucky star placed him, he regretted his son, as one regrets a jolly comrade, a bold man and clever marksman – an individual, in short, who can be relied on in a fight.

We need not here describe Red Cedar's resolute character, for the reader is acquainted with it. Under these circumstances, a strange idea crossed his brain; and as, whenever he had formed a resolution, nothing could stop it, and he would beard all dangers in carrying it out, Red Cedar had resolved on delivering his son, not, we repeat through any paternal love, but to have a good rifle more, in the very probable event that he should have to fight.

But it was not an easy matter to liberate Nathan. The young man was far from suspecting that at the moment he was awaiting worse than death, his father was only a few paces from him, preparing everything for his flight. This ignorance might compromise the success of the daring stroke the squatter intended to attempt.

The latter, before undertaking anything, called his two companions to him and imparted his plan to them. Sutter, adventurous and rash as his father, applauded the resolve. He only saw in the bold enterprise a trick to be played on his enemies, the redskins, and rejoiced, not at carrying off his brother from among them, but at the faces they would cut when they came to fetch their prisoner to fasten him to the stake and no longer found him.

Fray Ambrosio regarded the question from a diametrically opposite point of view: their position, he said, was already critical enough, and they ought not to render it more perilous by trying to save a man whom they could not succeed in enabling to escape, and which would hopelessly ruin them, by informing the redskins of their presence.

The discussion between the three adventurers was long and animated, for each obstinately held to his opinion. They could not come to an agreement; seeing which, Red Cedar peremptorily cut short all remarks by declaring that he was resolved to save his son, and would do so, even if all the Indians of the Far West tried to oppose it. Before a resolution so clearly intimated, the others could only be silent and bow their heads, which the monk did. The trapper then prepared to carry out his design.

By this time, the shades of night had enveloped the prairie in a black winding sheet; the moon, which was in her last quarter, would not appear before two in the morning; it was now about eight in the evening, and Red Cedar had six hours' respite before him, by which he intended to profit. Under circumstances so critical as the adventurers were now placed, time is measured with the parsimony of the miser parting with his treasure, for five minutes wasted may ruin everything.

The night became more and more gloomy; heavy black clouds, charged with electricity, dashed against each other and intercepted the light of the stars; the evening breeze had risen at sunset, and whistled mournfully through the branches of the primæval forest. With the exception of the sentries placed round the camp, the Indians were lying round the decaying fires, and, wrapped in their buffalo robes, were soundly asleep. Nathan, securely tied, slept or feigned to sleep. Two warriors, lying not far from him, and ordered to watch him, seeing their prisoner apparently so resigned to his fate, at length yielded to slumber.

Suddenly, a slight hiss, like that of the whip snake, was audible from the top of the tree to which the young man was fastened. He opened his eyes with a start, and looked searchingly round him, though not making the slightest movement, for fear of arousing his guardians. A second hiss, more lengthened than the first, was heard, immediately followed by a third.

Nathan raised his head cautiously, and looked up; but the night was so dark that he could distinguish nothing. At this moment, some object, whose shape it was impossible for him to guess, touched his forehead and struck it several times, as it oscillated. This object gradually descended, and at length fell on the young man's knees.

He stooped down and examined it.

It was a knife!

Nathan with difficulty repressed a shout of joy. He was not entirely abandoned, then! Unknown friends took an interest in his fate, and were trying to give him the means of escape. Hope returned to his heart; and like a boxer, stunned for a moment by the blow he had received, he collected all his strength to recommence the contest.

However intrepid a man may be, although if conquered by an impossibility he has bravely sacrificed his life, still, if at the moment of marching to the place of punishment a gleam of hope seems to dazzle his astonished eyes, he suddenly draws himself up – the image of death is effaced from his mind, and he fights desperately to regain that life which he had so valiantly surrendered. This is what happened to Nathan; he gradually sat up, with his eyes eagerly fixed on his still motionless guards.

My readers must pardon the following trifling detail, but it is too true to be passed over. When the first hiss was heard, the young man was snoring, though wide awake; he now continued the monotonous melody which lulled his keepers to sleep. There was something most striking in the appearance of this man, who, with eyes widely open, frowning brow, features painfully contracted by hope and fear, was cutting through the cords that fastened his elbows to the tree, while snoring as quietly as if he were enjoying the quietest sleep.

After considerable efforts, Nathan managed to cut through the ligatures; the rest was nothing, as his hands were at liberty. In a few seconds he was completely freed from his bonds, and seized the knife, which he thrust into his girdle. The cord that let it down was then drawn up again.

Nathan waited in a state of indescribable agony. He had returned to his old position, and was snoring. All at once one of his guardians turned towards him, moved his limbs, stiffened with cold, rose and bent over him with a yawn. Nathan, with half-closed, eyes, carefully watched his movements. When he saw the redskin's face only two inches from his own, with a gesture swift as thought, he threw his hands round his neck, and that so suddenly that the Comanche, taken unawares, had not the time to utter a cry.

The American was endowed with Herculean strength, which the hope of deliverance doubled at this moment. He squeezed the warrior's neck as in a vice; and the latter struggled in vain to free himself from this deadly pressure. The bandit's iron hands drew tighter and tighter with a slow, deliberate, but irresistible pressure. The Indian, his eyes suffused with blood, his features horribly contracted, beat the air two or three times mechanically, made one convulsive effort, and then remained motionless. He was dead.

Nathan held him for two or three minutes, to be quite certain that all was over, and then laid the warrior by his side, in a position that admirably resembled sleep. He then passed his hand over his forehead to wipe away the icy perspiration, and raised his eyes to the tree, but nothing appeared there. A frightful thought then occupied the young man; suppose his friends, despairing of saving him, had abandoned him? A horrible agony contracted his chest.

Still, he had recognised his father's signal: the hiss of the whip snake had been long employed by them to communicate under perilous circumstances. His father was not the man to leave any work he had begun undone, whatever the consequences might be. And yet the moments slipped away one after the other, and nothing told the wretch that men were at work for his deliverance; all was calm and gloomy.

Nearly half an hour passed thus. Nathan was a prey to feverish impatience and a terror impossible to describe. Up to the present, it was true, no one in camp had perceived the unusual movement he had been obliged to make, but an unlucky chance might reveal his plans for flight at any moment; to effect this, an Indian aroused by the sharp cold need only pass by him while trying to restore the circulation of his blood by a walk.

As his friends forgot him, the young man resolved to get out of the affair by himself. In the first place, he must get rid of his second watcher, and then he would settle what next to do. Hence, still remaining on the ground, he slowly crawled toward the second warrior. He approached him inch by inch, so insensible and deliberate were his movements! At length he arrived scarce two paces from the warrior, whose tranquil sleep told him that he could act without fear. Nathan drew himself up, and bounding like a jaguar, placed his knee on the Indian's chest, while with his left hand he powerfully clutched his throat.

The Comanche, suddenly awakened, made a hurried movement to free himself from this fatal pressure, and opened his eyes wildly, as he looked round in terror. Nathan, without uttering a word, drew his knife and buried it in the Indian's heart, while still holding him by the throat. The warrior fell back as if struck by lightning, and expired without uttering a cry or giving a sigh.

"I don't care," the bandit muttered, as he wiped the knife, "it is a famous weapon. Now, whatever may happen, I feel sure of not dying unavenged."

Nathan, when he found his disguise useless, had asked leave to put on his old clothes, which was granted. By a singular chance, the Indian he stabbed had secured his game bag and rifle, which the young man at once took back. He gave a sigh of satisfaction at finding himself again in possession of objects so valuable to him, and clothed once more in his wood ranger's garb.

Time pressed; he must be off at all risks, try to foil the sentries, and quit the camp. What had he to fear in being killed? If he remained, he knew perfectly well the fate that awaited him; hence the alternative was not doubtful; it was a thousandfold better to stake his life bravely in a final contest, than wait for the hour of punishment.

Nathan looked ferociously around, bent forward, listened, and silently cocked his rifle. The deepest calm continued to prevail around.

"Come," the young man said, "there can be no hesitation; I must be off."

At this moment the hiss of the whip snake was again audible.

Nathan started.

"Oh, oh!" he said, "It seems that I am not abandoned as I fancied."

He lay down on the ground again and crawled back to the tree to which he had been fastened. A lasso hung down to the ground, terminating in one of those double knots which sailors call "chairs," one half of which passes under the thighs, while the other supports the chest.

"By jingo!" Nathan muttered joyfully, "Only the old man can have such ideas. What a famous trick we are going to play those dogs of redskins! They will really believe me a sorcerer; for I defy them to find my trail."

While talking thus to himself, the American had seated himself in the chair. The lasso drawn by a vigorous hand, rapidly ascended, and Nathan soon disappeared among the thick foliage of the larch tree. When he reached the first branches, which were about thirty feet from the ground, the young man removed the lasso, and in a few seconds rejoined his comrades.

"Ouf!" he muttered, as he drew two or three deep breaths, while wiping the perspiration from his face; "I can now say I have had a lucky escape, thanks to you; for, deuce take me, without you, I had been dead."

"Enough of compliments," the squatter sharply answered; "we have no time to waste in that nonsense. I suppose you are anxious to be off?"

"I should think so; in which direction are we going?"

"Over there," Red Cedar answered, holding his arm out in the direction of the camp.

"The devil!" Nathan sharply objected, "Are you mad, or did you pretend to save my life, merely to deliver me to our enemies with your own hands?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something you would see as well as I, if it were day; the forest suddenly terminates a few yards from here on the edge of an immense quebrada."

"Oh, oh," Red Cedar said, with a frown; "what is to be done in that case?"

"Return by the road you came for about half a league, and then go to the left. I have seen enough of the country since I left you to have a confused resemblance of the shape of the mountain, but, as you say, the main point at this moment is to be off from here?"

"The more so, as the moon will soon rise," Sutter observed, "and if the redskins perceived Nathan's escape, they would soon find our trail."

"Well said," Nathan replied, "let us be off."

Red Cedar placed himself once more at the head of the small party, and they turned back. Progress was extremely difficult in this black night; they were obliged to grope, and not put down their foot till they were certain the support was solid. If they did not, they ran a risk of falling and being dashed on the ground, at a depth of seventy or eighty feet.