The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
But be at ease. If ever he fall into my hands again, I swear that I will not miss him."
"In the meanwhile you did do so—that is the evil."
"Why so?"
"You will understand me. This man is one of those villains, the scum of the United States, too many of whom have lived on the frontier during the last few years. I do not know how he contrived to deceive your New York agent; but he gained his confidence so cleverly that the latter told him all the secrets he knew about your enterprise."
"He told me so himself."
"Very good. It was then, I suppose, that you stabbed him?"
"Yes, and at the same time I plucked out his claws; that is to say, I seized the letters he held, and which might compromise me."
"A mistake. This man is too thorough-paced a scoundrel not to foresee all the chances of his treason. He had a last letter, the most important of all; and that you did not take from him."
"I took three."
"Yes, but there were four. As the last, however, in itself was worth as much as the other three, he always wore it about him in a leathern bag hung round his neck by a steel chain; you did not dream of looking for that."
"But what importance can this letter, I do not even remember writing, possess, that you should attach such weight to it?"
"It is merely the agreement drawn up between yourself, General Ibañez, and Mr. Wood, and bearing your three signatures."
"Con mil demonios!" the hacendero exclaimed in terror. "In that case I am lost; for if this man really possesses such a document, he will not fail to employ it in order to be revenged on me."
"Nothing is lost so long as a man's heart beats in his breast, Don Miguel. The position is critical, I allow, but I have saved myself in situations far more desperate than the one you are now in."
"What is to be done?"
"Red Cedar has been about again for two days. His first care, so soon as he could sit a horse, was to go to Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico, and denounce you to the Governor. That has nothing to surprise you from such a man."
"Then I can only fly as speedily as I can?"
"Wait. Every man has in his heart at least one of the seven deadly sins as a bait for the demon."
"What are you driving at?"
"You will see. Fortunately for us, Red Cedar has them all seven, I believe, in the finest stage of development. Avarice, before all, has reached its acme with him."
"Well?"
"This happened. Our man denounced you to the governor as a conspirator, etc., but was careful not to give up the proofs he possessed in support of the denunciation at the outset. When General Isturitz, the governor, asked him for these proofs, he answered that he was ready to supply them in exchange for the sum of one hundred thousand piastres in gold."
"Ah!" the hacendero said, with a breath of relief, "and what did Isturitz say?"
"The general is one of your most inveterate enemies, I grant, and he would give a good deal for the pleasure of having you shot."
"That is true."
"Yes, but still the sum appeared to him, as it really is, exorbitant, the more so as he would have to pay it all himself, as the government does not recognise transactions of that nature."
"Well, what did Red Cedar do then?"
"He did not allow himself beaten; on the contrary, he told the general he would give him a week to reflect, and quietly left the Cabildo."
"Hum! And on what day was this visit paid?"
"Yesterday morning; so that you have six days still left for action."
"Six days—that is very little."
"Eh?" the Frenchman said, with a shrug of his shoulders impossible to describe. "In my country—"
"Yes, but you are Frenchmen."
"That is true: hence I allow you twice the time we should require. Come, let us put joking aside. You are a man of more than common energy; you really wish the welfare of your country, so do not let yourself be crushed by the first reverse. Who knows but that it may all be for the best?"
"Ah, my friend, I am alone! General Ibañez, who alone could help me in this critical affair, is fifty leagues off. What can I do? Nothing."
"All. I foresaw your objection. Eagle-wing, the Chief of the Coras, has gone from me to warn the general. You know with what speed Indians travel; so he will bring us the general in a few hours, I feel convinced."
Don Miguel regarded the hunter with mingled admiration and respect.
"You have done that, my friend?" he said to him as he warmly pressed his hand.
"By Jove!" Valentine said, gaily, "I have done something else too. When the time arrives I will tell you what it is. But let us not lose an hour. What do you intend to do for the present?"
"Act."
"Good: that is the way I like to hear you talk."
"Yes, but I must first come to an understanding with the general."
"That is true; but it is the least thing," Valentine answered, as he looked skyward, and attentively consulted the position of the stars. "It is now eight o'clock. Eagle-wing and the man he brings must be at midnight at the entrance of the Cañon del Buitre. We have four hours before us, and that is more than we require, as we have only ten leagues to go."
"Let us go, let us go!" Don Miguel exclaimed eagerly.
"Wait a moment; there is no such hurry. Don't be alarmed; we shall arrive in time."
He then turned to Curumilla, and said to him in Araucano a few words which the hacendero did not understand. The Indian rose without replying, and disappeared in the density of the forest.
"You know," Valentine continued, "that I prefer, through habit, travelling on foot; still, as under present circumstances minutes are precious, and we must not lose them, I have provided two horses."
"You think of everything, my friend."
"Yes, when I have to act for those I love," Valentine answered with a retrospective sigh.
There was a moment's silence between the two men, and at the end of scarce a quarter of an hour there was a noise in the shrubs, the branches parted, and Curumilla re-entered the clearing, holding two horses by the bridle. These noble animals, which were nearly untamed mustangs, bore a striking resemblance to the steeds of the Apaches, on whose territory our friends now were. They were literally covered with eagle plumes, beads, and ribbons, while long red and white spots completed their disguise, and rendered it almost impossible to recognise them.
"Mount!" Don Miguel exclaimed so soon as he saw them. "Time is slipping away."
"One word yet," Valentine remarked.
"Speak."
"You still have as chaplain a certain monk by the name of 'Fray Ambrosio.'"
"Yes."
"Take care of that man—he betrays you."
"You believe it?"
"I am sure of it."
"Good! I will remember."
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