The Trapper's Daughter: A Story of the Rocky Mountains. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
the immediate response, "since I meet you."
"Halloh!" the young man shouted, as he uncocked his pistols, and returned them to his holsters; "What the deuce are you doing here, Don Valentine?"
"As you see, I am waiting."
"Whom can you be waiting for at this advanced hour?"
"For yourself, Don Pablo."
"For me!" the Mexican said in surprise; "That is strange."
"Not so much as you suppose. I desire to have a conversation with you, which no one must overhear; and as that was impossible in camp, I came to wait for you as you passed: that is simple enough, I fancy."
"It is; but what is less so, is the hour and spot you have selected, my friend."
"Why so?"
"Hang it, a terrible storm is let loose over our heads; we have no place here to shelter us; and I repeat, it is nearer morning than night."
"That is true; but time pressed, and I could not select the hour to my fancy."
"You alarm me, my friend; has anything new occurred?"
"Nothing that I know of, up to the present; but ere long we shall see something, you may feel assured."
The young man stifled a sigh, but made no reply. While exchanging these hurried sentences, the Trail-hunter and the Mexican had joined, and now rode side by side. Valentine continued —
"Follow me for a few moments. I will lead you to a spot where we can converse at ease, without fear of being disturbed."
"What you have to say to me must be very important?"
"You shall soon judge of that."
"And are you going to lead me far?"
"Only a few paces; to a grotto which I noticed in the flashes."
"Let us go then."
The two men spurred their horses, and galloped silently side by side; they went on thus for hardly a quarter of an hour in the direction of a thick chaparral which skirted the river.
"We have arrived," said Valentine, as he checked his horse and dismounted. "You had better let me go first, for it may happen that the cave we are about to enter may have an occupier not at all disposed to move for us, and it is as well to act prudently."
"What do you mean? To what occupier do you allude?"
"Hang it, I do not know," the Frenchman replied carelessly; "in any case, it is as well to be on one's guard."
While saying this, Valentine produced from under his zarapé two candlewood torches, which he lighted; he gave one to Don Pablo, and the two men, after hobbling their horses, opened the bushes and advanced boldly toward the cave. After walking a few steps, they suddenly found themselves at the entrance of one of those magnificent natural grottos formed by the volcanic convulsions so frequent in these parts.
"Attention!" Valentine muttered in a low voice to his comrade.
The sudden appearance of the two men startled a cloud of night birds and bats, which flew away heavily in all directions, uttering shrill cries. Valentine went on, not troubling himself about these funereal guests, whose sports he so unexpectedly noticed. All at once, a hoarse and prolonged growl came from a distant corner of the cave.
The two men stopped as if rooted to the ground. They found themselves face to face with a magnificent black bear, whose usual residence this cavern doubtless was, and which, standing on its hind legs with open mouth, showed the troublesome persons who came to trouble it so inopportunely in its lair, a tongue red as blood, and glistening claws of a remarkable length. It balanced itself clumsily, according to the fashion of its congeners, and its round and dazzled eyes were fixed on the adventurers in a manner that would cause reflection. Fortunately, they were not the men to let themselves be intimidated for long.
"Hum!" said Valentine, surveying the animal, "I was sure of it; there is a young fellow who seems inclined to sup with us."
"My rifle, on the contrary, will make us sup with him," Don Pablo said with a laugh.
"For Heaven's sake do not fire," the hunter said quickly, as he checked the young man who had already shouldered his rifle; "a shot fired at this spot will produce a fearful row: we do not know what sort of people may be prowling around us; so we must not compromise ourselves."
"That is true," Don Pablo remarked; "but what is to be done?"
"That is my business," Valentine replied; "take my torch, and hold yourself in readiness to help me."
Then, resting his rifle against the side of the cave, he went out, while the Mexican remained alone, facing the bear, which, dazzled and perplexed by the light, did not venture to stir. In a few minutes Valentine returned; he had been to fetch his lasso, fastened to the saddle bow.
"Now, stick your torches in the ground, to be ready for any accident."
Don Pablo obeyed; the hunter carefully prepared the lasso and whirled it round his head, while whistling in a peculiar way.
At this unexpected appeal the bear moved heavily two or three paces forward, but that was its ruin. The lasso started from the hunter's hands, the slipknot fell on the animal's shoulders, and the two men slipped back, tugging at it with all their strength. The poor quadruped, thus strangled and stretching out a tongue a foot long, tottered and fell, striving in vain to remove with its huge paws the unlucky collar that compressed its throat. But the hunters were not conquered by their enemy's tremendous efforts; they redoubled their strength, and did not loose the lasso till the bear had given its last sigh.
"Now," said Valentine, after he had assured himself that Bruin was really dead, "bring the horses in here, Don Pablo, while I cut off our enemy's paws, to roast them in the ashes while we are talking."
When the young man re-entered the grotto, leading the horses, he found Valentine, who had lighted a large fire, busied in flaying the bear, whose paws were gently roasting in the embers, as he had said. Don Pablo gave the horses their food, and then sat down before the fire near Valentine.
"Well," said the latter with a smile, "do you fancy this a comfortable place for a gossip?"
"Yes, it is," the young man carelessly replied, as he rolled between his; fingers a husk cigarette with the dexterity apparently peculiar to the Spanish race; "we are all right here: I am ready for your explanation, my friend."
"I will give it you," the hunter said, who had finished skinning the bear, and quietly returned his knife to his boot, after carefully wiping the blade; "how long have you known Red Cedar's hiding place?"
At this point-blank question, which he was far from expecting, the young man started; a feverish flush covered his face, and he did not know what to answer.
"Why – ?" he stammered.
"About a month, I think?" Valentine continued, not appearing to notice his friend's confusion.
"Yes, about," the other replied, not knowing what he said.
"And for a month," Valentine continued, imperturbably, "you have left your father's side each night to go and make love to the daughter of the man who murdered your sister?"
"My friend," Don Pablo said, painfully.
"Would you assert that it is not true?" the hunter went on hastily, as he bent on him a glance which made him look down: "explain yourself, Pablo – I am waiting for your justification. I am curious to know how you will manage to prove to me that you have acted rightly."
The young man, while his friend was speaking, had time to regain, at any rate, a portion, if not all, of his coolness and presence of mind.
"You are severe," he said; "before accusing me, it would be, perhaps, worthwhile to listen to the reasons I have to offer you."
"Stay, my friend." Valentine said, quickly, "let us not turn from the question, but be frank; do not take the trouble to describe your love to me, for I know it as well as you do – I saw it born and grow; still, permit me to tell you certainly I thought that after the assassination of Doña Clara, this love, which had hitherto resisted everything, would die