Chapter FIFTY NINE: Trailing by Torch-Light (5)

The attitude was not new to him nor to me; it was not the first time I had observed him in a posture precisely similar. I knew it was his favourite _pose_, when any question of unusual difficulty required all the energy of his "instincts." He was now, as often of yore, consulting his "divinity," presumed to dwell far down within the dark tube of "Targuts."

After a time, all the others ceased to speak, and stood watching him. They knew that no step would be taken before Rube's advice had been received; and they waited with more or less patience for him to speak.

Full ten minutes passed, and still the old trapper neither stirred nor spoke. Nor lip nor muscle of him was seen to move; the eyes alone could be detected in motion, and these small orbs, scintillating in their deep sockets, were the only signs of life which he showed. Standing rigid and still, he appeared, not a statue, but a scarecrow, propped up by a stick; and the long, brown, weather-washed rifle did not belie the resemblance.

Full ten minutes passed, and still he spoke not; his "oracle" had not yet yielded its response.

I have said that at the first glance it was difficult to tell whether the old man was gazing into the barrel of his gun or beyond it. After watching him closely, I observed that he was doing both. Now his eyes were a little raised, as if he looked upon the plain--anon they were lowered, and apparently peering into the tube. He was drawing the data of his problem from facts--he was trusting to his divinity for the solution.

For a long time he kept up this singular process of conjuration-- alternating his glances in equal distribution between the hollow cylinder and the circle of vision that comprehended within its circumference the Comanche encampment.

The others began to grow impatient; all were interested in the result, and not without reason. Standing upon the limits of a life-danger, it is not strange they should feel anxiety about the issue.

Thus far, however, none had offered to interrupt or question the queer old man. None dared. One or two of the party had already had a taste of his quality when fretted or interfered with, and no one desired to draw upon himself the sharp "talk" of the earless trapper.

Garey at length approached, but not until Rube, with a triumphant toss of his head and a scarcely audible "wheep" from his thin lips, showed signs that the consultation had ended, and that the "joss" who dwelt at the bottom of his rifle-barrel had vouchsafed an answer!

I had watched him with the rest. I liked that expressive hitch of the head; I liked the low, but momentous sibillation that terminated the _seance_ between him and his familiar spirit. They were signs that the knot was unravelled--that the old trapper had devised some feasible plan by which the Indian camp might be entered.

Garey and I drew near, but not to question him; we understood him too well for that. We knew that he must be left free to develop his purpose in his own time; and we left him free--simply placing ourselves by his side.

"Wal, Billee!" he said, after drawing a long breath, "an yurself, young fellur! whet do 'ee both think o' this hyur bizness: looks ugly, don't it--eh, boyees?"

"Tarnal ugly," was Garey's laconic answer.

"Thort so meself at fust."

"Thar ain't no plan o' gettin' in yander," said the young trapper, in a desponding tone.

"The doose thur ain't! what greenhorn put thet idee inter yur brain-pan, Bill?"

"Wal, thar are a plan; but 'tain't much o' a one: we've been talkin it over hyar."

"Le's hear it," rejoined Rube, with an exulting chuckle--"le's hev it, boyee! an quick, Bill, fur time's dodrotted preecious 'bout now. Wal?"

"It's jest this, Rube, neyther less nor more: the capt'n proposes to take the Injun's hoss; and ride straight into thar camp."

"Straight custrut in, do 'ee?"

"Ov coorse; it 'ud be no use goin about the bush: they kin see him a-comin' from ony side."

"I'll be durned ef they kin--thet I'll be durned. Wagh! they cudn't 'a see me--thet they cudn't, ef ivery niggur o' 'em hed the eyes o' an Argoose es hed eyes all over him--thet they cudn't, Billee."

"How?" I inquired. "Do you mean to say that it is possible for any one to approach yonder camp without being observed? Is that what you mean, Rube?"

"Thet ur preezactly whet I mean, young fellur. No--not adzactly thet eyther. One o' _you_ I didn't say: whet I sayed wur, that this hyur trapper, Rube Rawlins o' the Rocky Mountains, kud slide inter yander campmint jest like greased lightnin through a gooseberry-bush, 'ithout e'er an Injun seein 'im; an thet, too, ef the red-skinned vamints hed more eyes in thur heads than they hev lice; which, accordin' to this child's reck'nin', 'ud guv ivery squaw's son o' the gang as many peepers es thur ur spots in a peecock's tail, an a wheen over to breed, I kalkerlate. No plan to git inter thur camp 'ithout bein' seed! Wagh! yur gettin' green, Bill Garey!"

"How can it be accomplished, Rube? Pray, explain! You know how impatient--"

"Don't git unpayshint, young fellur! thet ur's no use whetsomdiver. Yu'll need payshinse, an a good grist o' thet ur, afore ye kin warm yur shins at yander fires; but 'ee kin do it, an in the nick o' time too, ef yu'll go preezactly accordin' to whet old Rube tells ye, an keep yur eye well skinned and yur teeth from chatterin': I knows yu'll do all thet. I knows yur weasel to the back o' yur neck, an kin whip yur weight in wild cat any day i' the year. Now? D'yur agree to follur my direekshuns!"

"I promise faithfully to act according to your advice."

"Thet ur sensible sayed--durnation'd sensible. Wal, then, I'll gi' ye my device."

As Rube said this, he moved forward to the edge of the timber, making a sign for Garey and myself to follow.

On reaching its outer edge--but still within cover--he dropped down upon his knees, behind some evergreen bushes.

I imitated his example, and knelt upon his right, while Garey crouched down on the left.

Our eyes were directed upon the Indian camp, of which, and the plain around it, we had a good view--as good as could be obtained under the light of a brilliant moon, alas! too brilliant!

After we had surveyed the scene for some moments in silence, the old trapper condescended to begin the conversation.

CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE.

THE TRAPPER'S COUNSEL.

"Now, Bill Garey, an you, young fellur, jest clap yur eyes on thet 'ere 'campmint, an see ef thur ain't a road leadin inter the very heart o' it, straight as the tail o' a skeeart fox. 'Ee see it? eh?"

"Not under kiver?" replied Garey interrogatively.

"Unner kiver--ivery step o' the way--the best o' kiver."

Garey and I once more scrutinised the whole circumference of the encampment, and the ground adjacent. We could perceive no cover by which the camp could be approached. Surely there was none.

What could Rube mean? Were there clouds in the sky? Had he perceived some portent of coming darkness? and had his words reference to this?

I raised my eyes, and swept the whole canopy with inquiring glances. Up to the zenith, around the horizon--east, west, north, and south--I looked for clouds, but looked in vain. A few light cirrhi floated high in the atmosphere; but these, even when crossing the moon's disk, cast no perceptible shadow. On the contrary, they were tokens of settled weather; and moving slowly, almost fixed upon the face of the heavens, were evidence that no sudden change might be expected. When the trapper talked of entering the camp under cover, he could not have meant under cover of darkness. What then?

"Don't see ony kiver, old hoss," rejoined Garey, after a pause; "neyther bush nor weed."

"Bush!" echoed Rube--"weed! who's talkin 'bout weeds an bushes? Thur's other ways o' hidin' yur karkidge 'sides stickin' it in a bush or unner a weed. Yur a gettin' durnation'd pumpkin-headed, Bill Garey. I gin to think yur in the same purdicamint as the young fellur hisself. Yu've been a humbuggin' wi' one o' them ur Mexikin moochachers."

"No, Rube, no."

"Durn me, ef I don't b'lieve you hev, boy. I heern ye tell one o' 'em--"

"What?"

"Wagh! ye know well enuf. Didn't 'ee tell one o' 'em gurls at the rancherie that ye loved her as hard as a mule kud kick--sartintly ye did; them wur yur preezact words, Billee."

"I was only jokin', hoss."

"Putty jokin' thet ur 'll be when I gits back to Bent's Fort, and tell yur Coco squaw. He, he, he--ho, ho, hoo! Geehosophat! thur _will_ be a rumpus bumpus!"

"Nonsense, Rube; thar's nothin' ov it."

"Thur must 'a be: yur brain-pan's out o' order, Bill; ye hain't hed a clur idee for days back. Bushes! an weeds too! Wagh! who sayed thur wur bushes? Whur's yur eyes? d'yur see a _bank_?"

"A bank!" echoed Garey and I simultaneously.

"Ye-es," drawled Rube--"a bank. I guess thur's bank, right afore yur noses, ef both o' yur ain't as blind as the kittlins o' a 'possum. Now, do 'ee see it?"

Neither of us made reply to the final interrogatory. For the first time, we began to comprehend Rube's meaning; and our eyes as well as thoughts were suddenly directed upon the object indicated by his words-- the bank of the stream--for to that he referred.

I have stated that the little river ran close to the Indian lines, and on one side formed the boundary of the camp. We could tell that the current was towards us; for the stream, on reaching the hill upon which we were, turned sharply off, and swept round its base. The Indian camp was on the left bank--though upon its right when viewed up-stream, as we were regarding it. Any one proceeding up the left bank must therefore necessarily pass within the lines, and through among the horses that were staked nearest to the water.

It need not be supposed that under our keen scrutiny the stream had hitherto escaped observation; I myself had long ago thought of it--as a means of covering my approach--and time after time had my eyes dwelt upon it, but without result: in its channel I could perceive no shelter from observation. Its banks were low, and without either rush or bush upon them. The green turf of the prairie stretched up to the very brink, and scarcely twelve inches below its level was the surface of the current water. This was especially the case along the front of the encampment, and for some distance above and below.

Any one endeavouring to enter the camp by stealing up the channel, must have gone completely under the water, for a swimmer could have been observed upon its surface; even if a man could have approached in this way, there was no hope that a horse could be taken with him; and without the horse, what prospect of ultimate escape?

It had seemed to me impossible. More than once had I taken into consideration, and as often rejected, the idea.

Not so Rube. It was the very scheme he had conceived, and he now proceeded to point out his practicability.

"Now, theen--ees see a bank, do 'ee?"

"'Tain't much o' a bank," replied Garey, rather discouragingly.

"No: 'tain't as high as Massoora bluffs, nor the kenyons o' Snake River--thet nob'dy durnies; but ef 'tain't as high as it mout be, it ur ivery minnit a gettin' higherer, I reck'n."

"Getting higher, you think?"

"Ye-es; or whet ur putty consid'able the same thing the t'other ur a gettin' lower."

"The water, you mean?"

"The water ur a fallin'--gwine down by inches at a jump; an in an hour from this, thur'll be bluffs afront o' the camp helf a yurd high--thet's whet thur'll be."

"And you think I could get into the camp by creeping under them?"

"Sure o't. Whet's to hinner ye? it ur easy as fallin' off o' a log."

"But the horse--how could I bring him near?"

"Jest the same way as yurself. I tell yur the bed o' thet river ur deep enuf to hide the biggest hoss in creeashun. 'Tur now full, for the reezun thur's been a fresh in consykwince o' last night's rain: 'ee needn't mind thet--the hoss kin wade or swim eyther, an the bank 'll kiver 'im from the eyes of the Injuns. You kin leave 'im in the river."

"In the water?"

"In coorse--yur hoss'll stan thur; an ef he don't, you kin tie his nose to the bank. Don't be skeeart, but 'ee kin take 'im as near as 'ee please; but don't git too far to wind'ard, else them mustangs 'll smell 'im, and then it ur all up both wi' yurself an yur hoss. About two hundred yurds ull be yur likeliest distence. Ef ye git the gurl clur, ye kin easy run thet, I reck'n; put straight for the hoss; an whun yur mounted, gallip like hell! Put straight up higher for the timmer, whur we'll be cached; an then, durn 'em! ef the red-skins don't catch goss out o' our rifles. Wagh! thet's the way to do the thing--_it_ ur."

Certainly, this plan appeared practicable enough. The sinking of the water was a new element; it had escaped my observation, though Rube had noted it. It was this that had delayed him so long in giving his opinion; he had been watching it while leaning upon his rifle, though none of the rest of us had thought of such a thing. He remembered the heavy rain of the night before; he saw that it had caused a freshet in the little river; that its subsidence had begun; and, as in most prairie-streams, was progressing with rapidity. His keen eye had detected a fall of several inches during the half-hour we had been upon the ground. I could myself observe, now the thing was pointed out to me, that the banks were _higher_ than before.

Certainly, the idea of approaching by the stream had assumed a more feasible aspect. If the channel should prove deep enough, I might get the horse sufficiently near: the rest would have to be left to stratagem and chance.

"Yur ridin' in the Injun hoss," said Rube, "ud niver do: it mout, on the wust pinch: an ef ee don't git in the t'other way, ee kin still try it; but ye kud niver git acrosst through the cavayard 'ithout stampeedin' 'em: 'em mustangs ud be sure to make sich a snortin', and stompin', an whigherin', as 'ud bring the hul campmint about ye; an some o' the sharp-eyed niggurs 'ud be sartint to find out yur hide wur white. T'other way es I've desized ur fur the safest--_it_ ur."

I was not long in making up my mind. Rube's counsel decided me, and I resolved to act accordingly.

CHAPTER NINETY.

TAKING TO THE WATER.

I spent but little time in preparations; these had been made already. It remained only to tighten my saddle-girths, look to the caps of my revolvers, and place both pistols and knife in the belt behind my back-- where the weapons would be concealed by the pendent robe of jaguar-skins. In a few minutes I was ready.

I still loitered a while, to wait for the falling of the water; not long--my anxiety did not permit me to tarry long. The hour of the council might be nigh--I might be too late for the crisis. Not long did I loiter.

It was not necessary. Even by the moonlight, we could distinguish the dark line of the bank separating the grassy turf from the surface of the water. The rippling current was shining like silver-lace, and, by contrast, the brown earthy strip that rose vertically above it, could be observed more distinctly. It was sensibly broader.

I could wait no longer. I leaped into the saddle. My comrades crowded around me to say a parting word: and with a wish or a prayer upon their lips, one after another pressed my hand. Some doubted of their ever seeing me again--I could tell this from the tone of their leave-taking-- others were more confident. All vowed to revenge me if I fell.

Rube and Garey went with me down the hill.

At the point where the stream impinged upon the hill? there were bushes; these continued up the declivity, and joined the timber upon the summit. Under their cover we descended, reaching the bank just at the salient angle of the bend. A thin skirting of similar bushes ran around the base of the hill, and we now perceived that by following the path on which we had come, the ambuscade might have been brought a little nearer to the camp. But the cover was not so good as the grove upon the summit, and in case of a retreat, it would be necessary to gallop up the naked face of the slope, and thus expose our numbers. It was decided, therefore, after a short consultation, to leave the men where they were.

From the bend, where we stood, to the Indian camp? the river trended almost in a straight line, and its long reach lay before our eyes like a band of shining metal. Along its banks, the bush extended no farther. A single step towards the camp would have exposed us to the view of its occupants.

At this point, therefore, it was necessary for me to take to the water; and dismounting, I made ready for the immersion.

The trappers had spoken their last words of instruction and counsel; they had both grasped my hand, giving it a significant squeeze that promised more than words; but to these, too, had they given utterance.

"Don't be afeerd, capt'n!" said the younger. "Rube and I won't be far off. If we hear your pistols, we'll make a rush to'rst you, and meet you half-way anyhow; and if onything should happen amiss,"--here Garey spoke with emphasis--"you may depend on't we'll take a bloody revenge."

"Yees!" echoed Rube, "we'll do jest thet. Thur'll be many a nick in Targuts afore next Krissmuss ef _you_ ur rubbed out, young fellur; thet I swar to ye. But don't be skeeart! Keep yur eye sharp-skinned, an yur claws steady, an thur's no fear but yu'll git clur. Oncest yur clur o' the camp, 'ee may reck'n on us. Put straight for the timmer, an gallip as ef Ole Scratch wur a-gruppin' at the tail o' yur critter."

I waited to hear no more, but leading Moro down the bank, at a place where it sloped, I stepped gently into the current. My well-trained steed followed without hesitation, and in another instant we were both breast-deep in the flood.

The water was just the depth I desired. There was a half-yard of bank that rose vertically above the surface; and this was sufficient to shelter either my own head, as I stood erect, or the frontlet of my horse. Should the channel continue of uniform depth as far as the camp, the approach would be easy indeed: and, for certain hydrographic reasons, I was under the belief it would.

The plumes of the Indian bonnet rose above the level of the meadow-turf; and as the feathers--dyed of gay colours--would have formed a conspicuous object, I took off the gaudy head-dress, and carried it in my hand.

I also raised the robe of jaguar-skin over my shoulders, in order to keep it dry; and for the same reason, temporarily carried my pistols above the water-line.

The making of these slight alterations occupied only a minute or so; and, as soon as they were completed, I moved forward through the water.

The very depth of the stream proved a circumstance in my favour. In wading, both horse and man make less noise in deep than in shallow water; and this was an important consideration. The night was still-- too still for my wishes--and the plunging sound would have been heard afar off; but fortunately there were rapids below--just where the stream forced its way through the spur of the hill--and the hissing sough of these, louder in the still night, was borne upon the air to the distance of many miles. Their noise, to my own ears, almost drowned the plashing made by Moro and myself. I had noted this _point d'avantage_ before embarking upon the enterprise.

At the distance of two hundred yards from the bushes, I paused to look back. My purpose was to fix in my memory the direction of the hill, and more especially the point where my comrades had been left in ambush: in the event of a close pursuit, it would not do to mistake their exact situation.

I easily made out the place, and observed that, for several reasons, a better could not have been chosen. The trees that timbered the crest of the hill were of a peculiar kind--none more so upon the earth. They were a species of arborescent yucca, then unknown to botanists. Many of them were forty feet in height; and their thick angular branches, and terminal fascicles of rigid leaves, outlined against the sky, formed a singular, almost an unearthly spectacle. It was unlike any other vegetation upon earth, more resembling a grove of cast-iron than a wood of exogenous trees.

Why I regarded the spot as favourable for an ambush, was chiefly this: a party approaching it from the plain, and climbing the hill, might fancy a host of enemies in their front; for the trees themselves, with their heads of radiating blades, bore a striking resemblance to an array of plumed gigantic warriors. Many of the yuccas were only six feet in height, with tufted heads, and branchless trunks as gross as the body of a man, and they might readily have been mistaken for human beings.

I perceived at a glance the advantage of the position. Should the Indians pursue me, and I could succeed in reaching the timber before them, a volley from my comrades would check the pursuers, however numerous. The nine rifles would be enough, with a few shots from the revolvers. The savages would fancy nine hundred under the mystifying shadows of that spectral-like grove.

With confidence, strengthened by these considerations, I once more turned my face up-stream; and breasting the current, waded on.

CHAPTER NINETY ONE.

UP-STREAM.

My progress was far from being rapid. The water was occasionally deeper or shallower, but generally rising above my hips--deep enough to render my advance a task of time and difficulty. The current was of course against me; and though not very swift, seriously impeded me. I could have advanced more rapidly, but for the necessity of keeping my head and that of my horse below the escarpment of the bank. At times it was a close fit, with scarcely an inch to spare; and in several places I was compelled to move with my neck bent, and my horse's nose held close down to the surface of the water.

At intervals, I paused to rest myself--for the exertion of wading against the current wearied me, and took away my breath. This was particularly the case when I required to go in a crouching attitude; but I chose my resting-places where the channel was deepest, and where I could stand erect.

I was all the while anxious to look up and take a survey of the camp: I wished to ascertain its distance and position; but I dared not raise my head above the level of the bank: the sward that crowned it was smooth as a mown meadow, and the edge-line of the turf even and unbroken. Had I shown but my hand above it, it might have been seen in that clear white light. I dared not show either hand or head.

I had advanced I knew not how far, but I fancied I must be near the lines. All the way, I had kept close under the left bank--which, as Rube had predicted, now rose a full half-yard above the water-line. This was a favourable circumstance; and another equally so was the fact that the moon on that--the eastern side--was yet low in the sky, and consequently the bank flung a broad black shadow that extended nearly half-way across the stream. In this shadow I walked, and its friendly darkness sheltered both myself and my horse.

I fancied I must be near the lines, and longed to reconnoitre them, but, for the reasons already given, dared not.

I was equally afraid to make any farther advance--for that might be still more perilous. I had already noted the direction of the wind: it blew _from_ the river, and _towards_ the camp; and should I bring my horse opposite the line of the mustangs, I would then be directly to windward of them, and in danger from their keen nostrils. They would be almost certain to take up the scent of my steed, and utter their warning snorts. The breeze was light, but so much the worse. There was sufficient to carry the smell, and not enough to drown the plunging noise necessarily made by my horse moving through the water, with the occasional hollow pounding of his hoofs upon the rocks at the bottom.

If I raised my head over the bank, there was the danger of being seen; if I advanced, the prospect was one of equal peril of being scented.

For some moments I stood hesitating--uncertain as to whether I should leave my horse, or lead him a little farther. I heard noises from the camp, but they were not distinct enough to guide me.

I looked back down the river, in the hope of being able to calculate the distance I had come, and by that means decide where I was; but my observation furnished no data by which I could determine my position. With my eyes almost on a level with the surface of the water, I could not judge satisfactorily of distance.

I turned my face up-stream again, and scrutinised the parapet line of the bank.

Just then I saw an object over its edge that answered well to guide me: it was the croup and hip-bones of a horse--one of the mustangs staked near the bank. I saw neither the head nor shoulders of the animal; its hind-quarters were towards the stream; its head was to the grass--it was browsing.

The sight gratified me. The mustang was full two hundred yards above the point I had reached. I knew that its position marked the outer line of the encampment. I was in the very place where I wanted to be--about two hundred yards from the lines. Just at that distance I desired to leave my horse.

I had taken the precaution to bring with me my picket-pin--one of the essentials of the prairie traveller. It was the work of a moment to delve it into the bank. I needed not to drive it with violence: my well-trained steed never broke fastening, however slight. With him the stake was only required as a sign that he was not free to wander.

In a moment, then, he was staked; and with a "whisper" I parted from him, and kept on up-stream.

I had not waded a dozen yards farther, when I perceived a break in the line of the bank. It was a little _gully_ that led slantingly from the level of the prairie down to the bed of the stream. Its counterpart I perceived on the opposite side. The two indicated a ford or crossing used by buffaloes, wild-horses, and other denizens of the prairie.

At first, I viewed it with apprehension; I feared it might uncover my body to the eyes of the enemy; but on coming opposite, my fears were allayed: the slope was abrupt, and the high ground screened me as before. There would be no danger in passing the place.

As I was about moving on, an idea arrested me; and I paused to regard the gully with a look of greater interest. I perceived an advantage in it.

I had been troubled about the position in which I had left my horse. Should I succeed in getting back, of course it would be under the pressure of a hot pursuit, and my steed was not conveniently placed; his back was below the level of the bank. He might easily be mounted, but how should I get him out of the channel of the stream? Only by a desperate leap might he reach the plain above: but he might fail in the effort--time might be lost, when time and speed would be most wanted.

I had been troubled with this thought; it need trouble me no longer. The "crossing" afforded easy access either to or from the bed of the river--the very thing I wanted.

I was not slow to profit by the discovery. I turned back, and having released the rein, led my horse gently up to the break.

Choosing a spot under the highest part of the bank, I fastened him as before, and again left him.

I now moved with more ease and confidence, but with increased caution. I was getting too near to risk making the slightest noise in the water; a single plash might betray me.

It was my intention to keep within the channel, until I had passed the point where the horses were staked; by so doing, I should avoid crossing the line of the horse-guards, and, what was quite as important, that of the horses themselves--for I was equally apprehensive of being discovered by the latter. Once inside their circle, they would take no notice of me--for doubtless there would be other Indians within sight; and I trusted to my well-counterfeited semblance of savagery to deceive the eyes of these equine sentinels.

I did not wish to go far beyond their line; that would bring me in front of the camp itself--too near its fires and its idle groups.

I had noticed before starting that there was a broad belt between the place occupied by the men, and that where their horses were staked. This "neutral" ground was little used by the camp loungers, and somewhere on the edge of it I was desirous of making my _entree_.

I succeeded to my utmost wishes. Closely hugging the bank, I passed the browsing mustangs--under their very noses I glided past, for I could hear them munching the herbage right over me--but so silently did I steal along, that neither snort nor hoof-stroke heralded my advance.

In a few minutes, I was sufficiently beyond them for my purpose.

I raised my head; slowly and gently I raised it, till my eyes were above the level of the prairie slope.

No one was near. I could see the swarth savages grouped around their fires; but they were a hundred yards off, or more. They were capering, and talking, and laughing; but no ear was bent, and no eye seemed turned towards me. No one was near.

I grasped the bank with my hands, and drew myself up. Slowly and silently I ascended, like some demon from the dark trap-door of a stage.

On my knees, I reached the level of the turf; and, then gently rising to my feet, I stood erect within the limits of the Indian camp--to all appearance as complete a savage as any upon the ground!

CHAPTER NINETY TWO.

COUP-D'OEIL OF THE CAMP.

For some minutes I stood motionless as a statue; I stirred neither hand nor foot, lest the movement should catch the eye either of the horse-guards or those moving around the fires.

I had already donned my plumed head-dress, before climbing out of the channel: and after getting on the bank, my first thought was to replace my pistols in the belt behind my back.

The movement was stealthily made; and with like stealthy action, I suffered the mantle of jaguar-skins to drop from my shoulders, and hang to its full length. I had saved the robe from getting wet; and its ample skirt now served me in concealing my soaked breech-cloth as well as the upper half of my leggings. These and the moccasins were, of course, saturated with water, but I had not much uneasiness about that. In a prairie camp, and upon the banks of a deep stream, an Indian with wet leggings could not be a spectacle to excite suspicion; there would be many reasons why my counterpart might choose to immerse his copper-coloured extremities in the river. Moreover, the buckskin-- dressed Indian-fashion--was speedily casting the water; it would soon drip dry; or even if wet, would scarcely be observed under such a light.

The spot where I had "landed" chanced to be one of the least conspicuous in the whole area of the camp. I was just between two lights--the red glare of the campfires, and the mellower beams of the moon; and the atmospheric confusion occasioned by the meeting of the distinct kinds of light favoured me, by producing a species of optical delusion. It was but slight, and I could easily be seen from the centre of the camp--but not with sufficient distinctness for my disguise to be penetrated by any one; therefore, it was hardly probable that any of the savages would approach or trouble their heads about me. I might pass for one of themselves indulging in a solitary saunter, yielding himself to a moment of abstraction or melancholy. I was well enough acquainted with Indian life to know that there was nothing _outre_ or unlikely in this behaviour; such conduct was perfectly _en regle_.

I did not remain long on that spot--only long enough to catch the salient features of the scene.

I saw there were many fires, and around each was grouped number of human forms--some squatted, some standing. The night was cold enough to make them draw near to the burning logs; and for this reason, but few were wandering about--a fortunate circumstance for me.

There was one fire larger than the rest; from its dimensions, it might be termed a "bonfire," such as is made by the flattering and flunkeyish peasantry of old-world lands, when they welcome home the squire and the count. It was placed directly in front of the solitary tent, and not a dozen paces from its entrance. Its blazing pile gave forth a flood of red light that reached even to the spot where I stood, and flickered in my face. I even fancied I could feel its glow upon my cheeks.

Around this fire were many forms of men--all of them standing up. I could see the faces of those who were upon its farther side, but only the figures of these on the nearer.

The former I could see with almost as much distinctness as if I had been close beside them; I could trace the lineaments of their features--the painted devices on their breasts and faces--the style of their habiliments.

The sight of these last somewhat astonished me. I had expected to see red-skinned warriors in leggings, moccasins, and breech-cloth, with heads naked or plumed, and shoulders draped under brown robes of buffalo-skin. Some such there were, but not all of them were so costumed; on the contrary, I beheld savages shrouded in serapes and cloaks of broadcloth, with calzoneros on their legs, and upon their heads huge hats of black glaze--regular Mexican sombreros! In short, I beheld numbers of them in full Mexican costume!

Others, again, were dressed somewhat in a military fashion, with helmets or stiff shakos, ill-fitting uniform coats of red or blue cloth, oddly contrasting with the brown buckskin that covered their legs and feet.

With some astonishment, I observed these "fancy dresses;" but my surprise passed away, when I reflected upon who were the men before me, and whence they had lately come, where they had been, and on what errand. It was no travesty, but a scene of actual life. The savages, were clad in the spoils they had captured from civilisation.

I need not have been at such pains with my toilet; under any guise, I could scarcely have looked odd in the midst of such a motley crew: even my own uniform might have passed muster--all except the colour of my skin.

Fortunately, a few of the band still preserved their native costume--a few appeared in full paint and plumes--else I should have been _too Indian_ for such a company.

It cost not a minute to note these peculiarities, nor did I stay to observe them minutely; my eyes were in search of Isolina.

I cast inquiring glances on all sides; I scrutinised the groups around the different fires; I saw others--women--whom I knew to be captives, but I saw not her.

I scanned their forms and the faces of those who were turned towards me. A glance would have been enough; I could easily have recognised her face under the firelight--under any light. It was not before me.

"In the tent--in the tent: she must be there?"

I determined to move away from the spot where I had hitherto been standing. My eye, quickened by the necessity of action, had fallen upon the copse that stretched along the entire background of the camp. At a glance I detected the advantage offered by its shadowy cover.

The tent, as already stated, was placed close to the edge of the timber; and in front of the tent was the great fire. Plainly, this was the gravitating point--the centre of motive and motion. If aught of interest was to be enacted, there would lie the scene. In the lodge or near it would she be found--certainly she would be there; and there I resolved to seek her.

CHAPTER NINETY THREE.

A FRIENDLY ENCOUNTER.

Just then the shrill voice of a crier pealed through the camp, and I observed a general movement. I could not make out what the man said, but the peculiar intonation told that he was uttering some signal or summons. Something of importance was about to transpire.

The Indians now commenced circling around the blazing pile, meeting and passing each other, as if threading the mazes of some silent and solemn dance. Others were seen hastening up from distant parts of the camp--as if to observe the actions of those around the fire, or join with them in the movement.

I did not wait to watch them; their attention thus occupied, gave me an opportunity of reaching the copse unobserved; and, without further ado, I started towards it.

I walked slowly, and with an assumed air of careless indifference. I counterfeited the Comanche walk--not that bold free port--the magnificent and inimitable stride, so characteristic of Chippewa and Shawano, of Huron and Iroquois--but the shuffling gingery step of an English jockey; for such in reality is the gait of the Comanche Indian when afoot.

I must have played my part well. A savage, crossing from the horse-guards towards the great fire, passed near me, and hailed me by name.

"_Wakono_!" cried he.

"_Que cosa_?" (Well--what matter?) I replied in Spanish, imitating as well as I could the Indian voice and accent. It was a venture, but I was taken at a strait, and could not well remain silent.

The man appeared some little surprised at being addressed in the language of Mexico; nevertheless, he understood it, and made rejoinder.

"You hear the summons, Wakono? Why do you not come forward? The council meets; Hissoo-royo is already there."

I understood what was said--more from the Indian's gestures than his speech--though the words "summons", "council," and the name "Hissoo-royo," helped me to comprehend his meaning. I chanced to know the Comanche epithets for the two first, and also that Hissoo-royo (the Spanish wolf) was the Indian appellation of the Mexican renegade.

Though I understood what was said, I was not prepared with a reply. I dared not risk the answer in Spanish; for I knew not the extent of Wakono's proficiency in the Andalusian tongue.

I felt myself in a dilemma; and the importunate savage--no doubt some friend of Wakono himself--appeared determined to stick to me. How was I to get rid of him?

A happy idea came to my relief. Assuming an air of extreme dignity, and as though I did not wish to be disturbed in my meditations, I raised my hand and waved the man a parting salute: at the same time turning my head, I walked slowly away.

The Indian accepted the _conge_, and moved off, but evidently with an air of reluctance. As I glanced back over my shoulder, I could see him parting from the spot, with a hesitating step; no doubt somewhat astonished at the strange behaviour of his friend Wakono.

I did not look back again until I had placed myself under the shadow of the timber. Then I turned to reconnoitre; my friend had continued on: I saw him just entering among the crowd that circled around the great fire.

Screened from observation by the shadow, I could now pause and reflect. The trifling incident that had caused me some apprehension, had also helped me to some useful knowledge: First, I had learned my own name; second, that a council was about to take place; and thirdly, that the renegade, Hissoo-royo, had something to do with the council.

This was knowledge of importance; combined with my previous information, everything was now made clear. This council could be no other than the jury-trial between the renegade and the yet nameless chief; the same that was to decide to which belonged the right of property in my betrothed. It was about to meet; it had not assembled as yet. Then had I arrived in time. Neither white savage nor red savage had yet come into possession; neither had dared to lay hand on the coveted and priceless gem.

Isolina was still safe--thus singularly preserved from brutal contact. These dogs in the manger--their mutual jealousy had proved her protection!

I was consoled by the thought--strange source of consolation!

I was in time, but where was she? From my new position I had a still better view of the camp, its fires, and its denizens. She was nowhere to be seen!

"In the lodge, then--she must certainly be there--or--"

A new suspicion occurred to me: "She may be kept apart from the other captives?--in the copse--she may be concealed in the copse until the sentence be pronounced?"

This last conjecture brought along with it hopes and resolves. I determined to search the copse. If I should find her there, my emprise would be easy indeed; at all events, easier than I had anticipated. Though guarded by the savages, I should rescue her from their grasp. The lives of six men--perhaps twice that number--were under my belt. The odds of unarmed numbers would be nothing against the deadly bullets from my revolvers, and I perceived too that most of the savages had laid aside their weapons, confident in the security of their camp.

But I might find her alone, or perhaps with but a single jailer. The meeting of the council favoured the supposition. The men would all be there--some to take part--others interested in the result, or merely from curiosity to watch the proceedings. Yes, _all_ of them would have an interest in the issue--too surely all. The barbarous customs of these savage brutes at that moment came to my remembrance!

I stayed no longer to reflect; but gliding into the grove, commenced my search for the captive.

The ground was favourable to my progress: there was not much underwood, and the trees grew thinly; I could easily pass amongst them without the necessity of crouching, and without making noise. The silent tread of the moccasin was in my favour, as also the dark shadowy foliage that stretched overhead, hiding the sky from my view.

The chief timber of the copse was the pecan hickory--almost an evergreen--and the trees were still in full leaf; only here and there, where the trunks stood far apart, did the moonbeams strike through the thick frondage. The surface of the ground was shrouded from her light; and the narrow aisles through which I passed were as dark as if no moon had been shining.

There was still light enough to reveal some horrid scenes. O Heaven! my heart bleeds at the remembrance.

I was wrong in my conjectures. The men had not _all_ gone to the council; the captive women were not _all_ by the camp-fires. I beheld ruffian men beside their helpless victims--women--fair white women--with drooping heads and listless air--dishevelled weeping! O Heaven! my heart bleeds at the remembrance!

It recoiled at the sight--it burned with indignation. At every turn did it prompt me to draw knife or pistol; at every step my fingers itched to immolate a hideous paint-besmeared brute--to slay a "noble" savage.

I was restrained only by my own desperate situation--by my apprehensions for the safety of Isolina, now more acute than ever. What horrid imaginings crowded into my brain, begot by the barbarous scenes that were being enacted around me!

The monsters, too earnestly occupied with their captives, took no heed of me; and I passed on without interruption.

I threaded the pathways of the grove one after another, gliding through as rapidly as the path would permit; I entered every aisle and glade; I sought everywhere, even to the farthest limits of the wood. I saw more men--more weeping women--more red ruffianism; I saw nought of her for whom I searched.

"In the tent then--_she must be there_."

I turned my face towards the lodge; and, moving with stealthy step, soon arrived among the trees that stood in the rear.

I halted near the edge; and, separating the leaves with my hands, peered cautiously through. I had no need to search further--Isolina was before my eyes.

CHAPTER NINETY FOUR.

THE COUNCIL.

Yes, there was my betrothed--within sight, within hearing, almost within reach of my hands; and I dared not touch, I dared not speak, I scarcely dared look upon her!

My fingers trembled among the leaves--my heart rose and fell--I could feel within my breast its strokes, rapid and irregular--I could hear its sonorous vibration.

It was not at the first glance that I saw Isolina. On looking through the leaves, the _coup d'oeil_ was a scene that quite astonished me, and for a while occupied my attention. Since I had last gazed upon the great fire, the grouping around it had undergone an entire change; a new tableau was presented, that for the moment held me under a spell of surprise.

The fire no longer blazed, or only slightly, and when stirred; the logs had burned into coals, and now yielded a fainter light, but one more red and garish. It was steady, nevertheless, and the vastness of the pile rendered it strong enough to illumine the camp-ground to its utmost limits.

The fire was still encircled by savages, but no longer standing, nor grouped irregularly, as I had before observed them; on the contrary, they were seated, or rather squatted at equal distances from each other, and forming a ring that girdled the huge mound of embers.

There were about twenty of these men--I did not count them--but I observed that all were in their native costume--leggings, and breech-cloth to the waist--nothing above, save the armlets and shell-ornaments of nose, ears, and neck. All were profusely painted with chalk, ochre, and vermilion. Beyond doubt, I was looking upon the "council."

The other Indians--they in "fancy dresses"--were still upon the ground; but they were standing behind, retired a pace or two from the circle, and in groups of two, three, or four, talking in low mutterings. Others were moving about at a still greater distance from the fire.

My observation of all these features of the scene did not occupy ten seconds of time--just so long as my eyes were getting accustomed to the light.

At the end of that interval, my glance rested upon Isolina, and there became fixed.

My fingers trembled among the leaves; my heart rose and fell; I could feel within my breast its strokes, rapid and irregular; I could hear its sonorous vibration.

In the chain of Indians that encircled the fire, there was a break--an interval of ten or a dozen feet. It was directly in front of the lodge, and _above_ the fire; for the ground gently sloped from the tent towards the stream.

In this spot the captive was seated. Her situation was exactly between the lodge and the fire, and a little retired behind the circle of the council. The tent intervening between her and my position, had prevented me from seeing her at first.

She was half-seated, half-reclining upon a robe of wolfskins. I saw that her arms were free; I saw that her limbs were bound. Her back was to the tent, her face turned towards the council. I could not see it.

To recognise my betrothed, I did not need to look upon her face; her matchless form, outlined against the red embers, was easily identified. The full round curve of the neck--the oval lines of the head--the majestic sweep of the shoulders--the arms smooth and symmetrical--all these were familiar to my eyes, for oft had they dwelt on them in admiration. I could not be mistaken; the form before me was that graven upon my heart--it was Isolina's.

There was another salient point in this singular tableau, that could not escape observation. Beyond the fire, and directly opposite to where Isolina was placed, I saw another well-known object--the white steed!

He was not staked there, but haltered and held in hand by one of the Indians. He must have been lately brought upon the ground, for from neither of my former points of observation had I noticed him. He, like his mistress, was "on trial"--his ownership was also matter of dispute.

There was in sight one more object that interested me--not with friendly interest did I regard it--but with disgust and indignation.

Not seated in the council ring, nor standing among the idle groups, but apart from all, I beheld Hissoo-royo the renegade. Savage as were the red warriors, fiend-like as they appeared with their paint-smeared visages, not one looked so savage or fiend-like as he.

The features of this man were naturally bad: but the paint--for he had adopted this with every other vile custom of barbarian life--rendered their expression positively ferocious. The device upon his forehead was a death's-head and cross-bones--done in white chalk--and upon his breast appeared the well-imitated semblance of a bleeding scalp--the appropriate symbols of a cruel disposition.

There was something unnatural in a white skin thus disfigured, for the native complexion was not hidden: here and there it could be perceived forming the ground of the motley elaboration--its pallid hue in strange contrast with the deeper colours that daubed it! It was not the canvas for such a picture.

Yet there the picture was--in red and yellow, black, white, and blue; there stood the deep-dyed villain.

I saw not his rival; I looked for him, but saw him not. Perhaps he was one of those who stood around?--perhaps he had not yet come up? He was the son of the head-chief--perhaps he was inside the lodge? The last was the most probable conjecture.

The great calumet was brought forward and lit by the fire; it was passed around the circle, from mouth to mouth--each savage satisfying himself with a single draw from its tube.

I knew that this was the inauguration of the council. The trial was about to proceed.

CHAPTER NINETY FIVE.

MEASURING THE CHANCES.

The situation in which I was placed by chance, could not have been better had I deliberately chosen it. I had under my eyes the council fire and council, the groups around--in short, the whole area of the camp.

What was of most importance, I could see without being seen. Along the edge of the copse there extended a narrow belt of shadow, similar to that which had favoured me while in the channel, and produced by a like cause--for the stream and the selvage of the grove were parallel to each other. The moonbeams fell obliquely upon the grove; and, under the thick foliage of the pecans, I was well screened from her light behind-- while the lodge covered me from the glare of the fire in front.

I could not have been better placed for my purpose. I saw the advantage of the position, and resolved therefore to abide in it.

The observations and reflections thus given in detail occupied me but a few minutes of time. Thought is quick, and at that crisis mine was more than usually on the alert. Almost instantaneously did I perceive the points that most interested me, or had reference to my plans; almost instantaneously I had mastered the situation, and I next bent my mind upon the way to take advantage of it.

I saw there was but one way to proceed: my original scheme must be carried cut. Under so many eyes, there was not the slightest chance that the captive could be _stolen_ away; she must be taken openly, and by a bold stroke. Of this was I convinced.

The question arose, when should I make the attempt? At that moment?