"Very good. Then we shall not meet again till the appointed moment?"
"No. The paleface will attack on the side of the forest, while the Apaches advance by the river."
"All right! But let us be prudent, for a misunderstanding might prove fatal. I will draw as near as possible to the mission; but I warn you that I shall not budge till I hear your signal."
"Wah! my brother will open his ears, and the miawling of the tiger-cat will warn him that the Apaches have arrived."
"I understand perfectly. One parting remark, chief."
"I listen to the paleface."
"It is clearly understood that the booty will be shared equally between us?"
The Indian gave a wicked smile.
"Yes," he said.
"No treachery between us, redskin, or, by God! I warn you that I will flay you alive like a mad dog."
"The palefaces have too long a tongue."
"That is possible; but if you do not wish misfortune to fall on you, profit by my words."
The Indian only replied by a gesture of contempt: he wrapped himself in his buffalo robe, and retired slowly.
The bandit looked after him for a moment.
"Miserable dog!" he muttered, "so soon as I can do without you I will settle your account, be assured."
The Indian had disappeared.
"Hum! what shall I be after now?" El Buitre continued.
Suddenly a man bounded like a jaguar, and, before the bandit could even understand what was happening, he was firmly garotted, and reduced to a state of complete powerlessness.
"You do not know what to be after? Well, I will tell you," Valentine remarked, as he sat down quietly by his side.
The first moment of surprise past, the bandit regained all his coolness and audacity, and looked impudently at the hunter.
"By God! I do not know you, comrade," he said; "but I must confess you managed that cleverly."
"You are a connoisseur."
"Slightly so."
"Yes, I am aware of it."
"But you have tied me a little too tightly. Your confounded reata cuts into my flesh."
"Bah! you will grow used to it."
"Hum!" the bandit remarked. "Did you hear all we said?"
"Nearly all."
"Deuce take me if people can now talk in the desert without having listeners!"
"What would you? It is a melancholy fact."
"Well, I must put up with it, I suppose. You were saying "
"I! I did not say a word."
"Ah! I beg your pardon in that case; but I fancied you were cross-questioning me. You probably did not tie me up like a plug of tobacco for the mere fun of the thing."
"There is some truth in your observation. I had, I allow, another object."
"What is it?"
"To enjoy your conversation for a moment."
"You are a thousand times too kind."
"Opportunities for conversing are so rare in the desert."
"That is true."
"So you are on an expedition?"
"Yes, I am: a man must be doing something."
"That is true also. Be good enough to give me a few details."
"About what?"
"Why, this expedition."
"Ah, ah! I should like to do so, but unfortunately that is impossible."
"Only think of that! Why so?"
"I know very little."
"Ah!"
"Yes; and then I am of a very crooked temper. A person need only ask me to do a thing for me to refuse."
Valentine smiled, and drew his knife, whose dazzling blade emitted a bluish flash.
"Even if convincing reasons are offered you?"
"I do not know any," the bandit answered with a grin.
"Oh, oh!" Valentine remarked. "Still I hope I shall alter your opinion."
"Try it. Stay!" he added, suddenly changing his tone. "Enough of that sort of farce. I am in your power nothing can save me. Kill me no matter, I shall not say a word."
The two men exchanged glances of strange expressiveness.
"You are an idiot," Valentine answered coldly; "you understand nothing."
"I understand that you want to know the secrets of the expedition."
"You are a fool, my dear friend. Did I not tell you that I knew all?"
The bandit seemed to reflect for a minute.
"What do you want, then?" he said.
"Merely to buy you."
"Hum! that will be dear."
"You do not say no?"
"I never say no to anything."
"I see you are becoming reasonable."
"Who knows?"
"At how much do you estimate your share of this night's booty?"
El Buitre looked at him as if wishful to read the thoughts in his heart.
"Hang it! that will mount high."
"Yes, especially if you are hung!"
"Oh!"
"Everything must be foreseen in such a business."
"You are right."
"The more so as, if you refuse the bargain I offer you, I will kill you like a dog."
"That's a chance."
"It is very probable. So take my word, let us bargain. Give me your figure."
"Fifteen thousand piastres," the bandit exclaimed; "not an ochavo less."
"Pooh!" Valentine said, "that is little."
"Eh?" he remarked in amazement.
"I will give you twenty thousand."
In spite of the bonds that held him the bandit gave a start.
"Done!" he exclaimed; but in a moment added, "Where is the sum?"
"Do you fancy me such a fool as to pay you beforehand?"
"Hang it! I fancy "
"Nonsense! You are mad, compadre. Now that we understand one another, let me undo you that will freshen up your ideas."
He took off the reata. El Buitre rose at once, stamped his foot to restore the circulation, and then turning to the hunter, who stood watching him laughingly, with his hands crossed on the muzzle of his rifle, said,
"At least you have some security to give me?"
"Yes, and an excellent one."
"What?"
"The word of an honest man."
The bandit made a gesture; but Valentine continued, not seeming to notice it,
"I am the man whom the whites and Indians have surnamed the 'Trail-hunter.' My name is Valentine Guillois."
"What!" El Buitre exclaimed with strange emotion, "are you really the Trail-hunter?"
"I am," Valentine answered simply.
El Buitre walked up and down the platform hastily, muttering in a low voice broken sentences, and evidently a prey to intense emotion. Suddenly he stopped before the hunter.
"I accept," he said hurriedly.
"Tomorrow you shall receive your money."
"I will none of it."
"What do you mean?"
"Valentine, allow me to remain master of my secret for a few days; I will then explain my conduct to you. Though I am a bandit, every feeling is not yet dead in my heart; there is one which has remained pure, and that is gratitude. Trust to me. Henceforth you will not have a more devoted slave, either for good or evil."
"Your accent is not that of a man who has the intention of deceiving. I trust to you, asking no explanation of your sudden change of feeling."
"At a later date you shall know all, I tell you; and now that we are alone, explain to me your plan in all its details, in order that I may help you effectively."
"Yes," Valentine said, "time presses."
The two men remained alone for about two hours discussing the hunter's plan, and when all was settled they separated Valentine to return to the mission, and El Buitre to rejoin his companions, who were concealed a short distance off.
CHAPTER IV
THE EXPLOSION
During Valentine's absence facts of extreme gravity had occurred at the mission. The Count de Prébois Crancé had finished his correspondence, and held in his hand the letters he had just written, while he gave a peon, already mounted, his final instructions. At this moment the advanced posts uttered the cry of "Who goes there?" which was immediately taken up along the whole line. Louis felt his heart contracted by this shout, to which he was, however, accustomed; a cold perspiration beaded on his temples; a mortal pallor covered his face; and he was forced to lean against a wall lest he should fall, so weak did he feel.
"Good heavens!" he stammered in a low voice, "what can be the matter with me?"
Let who can explain the cause of this strange emotion, this inner presentiment which warned the count of a misfortune; for our part, we confess our inability, and content ourselves with recording the fact.
The count, however, wrestled with this extraordinary emotion, for which there was no plausible reason. Owing to a supreme effort of the will, a perfect reaction took place in him, and he became once more cold, calm, and stoical, ready to sustain, without weakness as without bravado, the blow by which he instinctively felt himself menaced.
In the meanwhile an answer had been returned to the sentries' challenge, and words exchanged. Don Cornelio came up to the count, his face quite discomposed by astonishment, and himself a prey to the most lively emotion.
"Señor conde " he said in a panting voice, and then stopped.
"Well," the count asked, "what is the meaning of those challenges I heard?"
"Señor," Don Cornelio continued with an effort, "General Guerrero, accompanied by his daughter, several other ladies, a dozen officers, and a powerful escort, requests to be introduced to your presence."
"He is welcome. At length, then, he consents to treat directly with me."
Don Cornelio withdrew to carry out the orders he had received, and soon a brilliant cavalcalde, at the head of which was General Guerrero, entered the mission. The general was pale, and frowned: it was easy to see that he with difficulty suppressed a dumb fury that filled his heart. The adventurers, in scattered groups, and haughtily wrapped up in their rags, regarded curiously these smart Mexican officers, so vain and so glittering with gold, who scarce deigned to bestow a glance upon them. The count walked a few paces toward the general, and uncovered with a movement full of singular grace.
"You are welcome, general," he said in his gentle voice; "I am happy to receive your visit."
The general did not even lift his finger to his embroidered hat, but, suddenly stopping his horse when scarce two paces from the count,
"What is the meaning of this, sir?" he exclaimed in an angry voice. "You are guarded as if in a fortress! You have, Heaven pardon me! sentries and patrols round your encampment, as if you were in command of a regular army."
The count bit his lips; but he restrained himself, and replied in a calm, though grave voice,
"We are on the edge of the despoblados (deserts), general, and our safety depends on our vigilance. Although I am not the commander of an army, I answer for the safety of the men I have the honour of leading. But will you not dismount, general, so that we may discuss more at our ease the grave questions which doubtless bring you here?"
"I will not dismount, sir, nor anyone of my suite, before you have explained to me your strange conduct."
Such a flash sparkled in the count's blue eye that, in spite of himself, the general turned his head away. This conversation had taken place under the vault of heaven, in the presence of the Frenchmen, who had collected round the newcomers. The patience of the adventurers was beginning to grow exhausted, and hoarse, mutterings were heard. With a sign the count appeased the storm, and silence was immediately re-established.
"General," Don Louis continued with perfect calmness, "the words you address to me are severe. I was far from expecting them, especially after the way in which I have acted since my landing in Mexico, and the moderation I have constantly displayed."
"All that is trifling," the general said furiously. "You Frenchmen have a honeyed tongue when you wish to deceive us. But, by heavens, I will teach you differently! You are warned once for all."
The count drew himself up, and a feverish flush suffused his cheeks. He put on again the hat he had hitherto held in his hand, and looked the general boldly in the face.
"I would observe, Señor Don Sebastian Guerrero," he said, in a voice broken by emotion, which he attempted in vain to check, "that you have not returned me my salute, and that you employ strange language in addressing a gentleman at least as noble as yourself. Is this the boasted Mexican courtesy? Come to the facts, caballero, without holding language unworthy of yourself or me; explain yourself frankly, that I may know, once for all, what I have to hope or fear from these eternal tergiversations, and the continued treachery of which I am the victim."
The general remained for a moment thoughtful after this rude apostrophe. At length he made up his mind, removed his hat, saluted the count graciously, and suddenly changed his manner.
"Pardon me, caballero," he said; "I was so far carried away by my temper as to employ expressions which I deeply regret."
The count smiled disdainfully.
"Your apologies are sufficient, sir," he said.
At the word "apologies" the general quivered, but soon regained command of himself.
"Where do you desire that I should communicate to you the orders of my Government?"
"At this spot, sir. I have, thanks to Heaven, nothing to hide from my brave comrades."
The general, though evidently annoyed, dismounted. The ladies and officers who accompanied him did the same. The escort alone remained on horseback, with their ranks closed up. At an order from Don Louis several tables were produced, and instantaneously covered with refreshments, of which the French officers began to do the honours with the grace and gaiety that distinguish their nation. The general and the count seated themselves on butacas, placed in the doorway of the mission church, near a table, on which were pen, ink, and paper.
There was a lengthened silence. It was evident that neither wished to be the first to speak. The general at length opened the conversation.
"Oh, oh!" he said, "you have guns with you?"
"Did you not know it, general?"
"My faith, no!"
And he added, with a sarcastic smile,
"Do you intend to pursue the Apaches with such weapons?"
"At the present moment less than ever, general," Don Louis answered dryly. "I do not know of what use this artillery will be to me. Still it is good, and I am convinced that it will not betray me in the hour of need."
"Is that a menace, sir?" the general asked significantly.
"What is the use of threatening when you can act?" the count said concisely. "But that is not the question, for the present at least. I am awaiting your pleasure, sir, to explain to me the intentions of your Government with regard to me."
"They are kind and paternal, sir."
"I will wait till you have told me them ere I express any opinion."
"This is the message I am charged to deliver to you."
"Ah! have you a message for me?"
"Yes."
"I am listening, caballero."
"The message is quite paternal."
"I am certain of it. Let us see what your Government's intentions are."
"I should have wished them better, but I consider them acceptable in their present form."
"Be kind enough to communicate them to me, general."
"I was anxious to come myself, señor conde, in order to lessen by my presence any apparent bitterness these proposals might contain."
"Ah!" the count remarked, "propositions are made to me; in other words, and speaking by the card, conditions which it is desired to impose on me. Very good."
"Oh, conde, conde, how badly you take what I say to you!"
"Pardon me, general, you know that I do not speak your magnificent Spanish very well; still I thank you from my heart for your kindness in accepting the harsh mission of communicating these propositions to me."
This was said with an accent of fine raillery which completely discountenanced the general.