Gustave Aimard - The Pirates of the Prairies - Adventures in the American Desert

"Can it be possible?"

"Yes," she said, in a melancholy voice; "I cannot remain here longer."

On hearing these words, the Coras Chief quivered with joy; a sinister ray flashed from his dark eyes; but he immediately resumed his stoical appearance, and the maidens did not notice his emotion.

"But what shall we do to procure means of flight?"

"That is my affair, so do not trouble yourself about it. This very night, I repeat, we shall start."

"May Heaven grant it!" Doña Clara sighed.

Ellen turned to the chief and said:

"Does my brother know, at a short distance from the spot where we now are, any Indian pueblo where we can seek shelter?"

"Two suns from here, in a northwestern direction, there is a pueblo, inhabited by a tribe of my nation. It was thither I intended to lead my white father's daughter after her escape."

"And we shall be in safety with that tribe?"

"The daughter of Acumapicthzin will be as safe as in her father's hacienda," the Indian answered, evasively.

"Good! Can my father leave the camp?"

"Who is strong enough to arrest the flight of the condor? Moukapec is a warrior, nothing stops him."

"My brother will set out."

"Good!"

"He will proceed by the shortest road to the pueblo of his nation, then he will return to meet us with the warriors he has collected, in order that we may defend ourselves, in the event of being followed by the Gambusinos."

"Very good," the Indian answered joyfully. "My sister is young, but wisdom dwells in her heart; I will do what she desires – when may I start?"

"At once."

"I go. What hour will my sister quit the camp?"

"At the hour when the owl sings its first hymn to the rising sun."

"My sister will meet me at the most four hours after her departure. She must remember in her flight always to go in a northwestern direction."

"I will do so."

Eagle-wing bowed to the maidens and left the cabin.

The gambusinos were in a deep sleep round the fire; only Dick and Harry were awake. The Coras glided like a phantom through the trees, and reached the edge of the water unnoticed, which was the more easy to effect, because the Canadians were not watching the island, from which they had no danger to apprehend, but had their eyes fixed on the prairie. The chief took off his clothes and made them into a parcel, which he fastened on his breast; he slipped into the water, and swam silently in the direction of the mainland.

So soon as the Indian left the cabin Ellen bent over Doña Clara, gave her a loving kiss on the forehead, and said softly – "Try to sleep for a few hours, while I prepare everything for our flight."

"Sleep!" the Mexican answered, "How can I with the restlessness that devours me."

"You must!" Ellen insisted, "For we shall have great fatigue to endure tomorrow."

"Well," Doña Clara said, softly, "I will try, as you wish it."

The maidens exchanged a kiss and a shake of the hand, and Ellen left the hut in her turn, smiling to her friend, who followed her with an anxious glance. When left alone, Doña Clara fell on her knees, clasped her hands, and addressed a fervent prayer to God. Then, slightly tranquilised by her appeal to Him, who is omnipotent, she fell back on the pile of dry leaves that served as her bed, and, as she had promised Ellen, attempted to sleep.

The night covered the tranquil desert with its dark blue sky, studded with dazzling stars. A majestic silence brooded over the prairie; all were asleep in the island save the two Canadian sentries, who, leaning on their rifles, followed with absent eye the tall shadows of the wild beasts that slowly came down to drink in the river.

At times a mysterious quiver ran over the trees, and shook their tufted crests, whose leaves rustled with a strange sound.

Dick and Harry, the two worthy hunters, interchanged a few words in a low voice to while away the tedium of their long sentry go, to which they were condemned, when suddenly a white shadow glided through the trees, and Ellen stood by their side.

The young men started on seeing her; but the maiden greeted them with a smile, sat down on the grass, and with a graceful gesture made them a sign to seat themselves by her side. They hastened to obey her.

The hunters looked at the maiden, who smiled on them with that infantile grace which no expression can render.

"You were talking when I came up."

"Yes," Harry answered, "we were talking of you."

"Of me?" she said.

"Was it not for your sake alone that we joined this troop of bandits?" Dick said, in an ill-humoured tone.

"Do you regret being here?" she asked, with a soft smile.

"I did not say that," the young man continued; "but we are not in our place among these villains. We are free and loyal hunters, honourable wood rangers; the life we lead oppresses us."

"Were you not talking of that when my presence interrupted you?"

They remained silent.

"Answer boldly!" she went on.

"Good heavens! You know that such a life is as oppressive to me as it is to you."

"What do I know?" Harry said. "Many times I have proposed to you to fly, and leave these men whose hands are constantly polluted with blood, but you have ever refused."

"That is true," she said sadly; "alas! Although these men are criminal, one of them is my father."

"For two years that we have been following you everywhere, you have given us the same answer."

"It was because I hoped that my father and brother would abandon this career of crime."

"And now?"

"I have no hope left."

"In that case?" Harry exclaimed sharply.

"I am ready to follow you," she answered, sharply.

"Is that the truth? Is it your heart that is speaking, Ellen? Do you really consent to abandon your family and trust to our honour?"

"Listen," she answered, sorrowfully; "for two years I have thought deeply, and the more I reflect the more does it appear to me that Red Cedar is not my father."

"Can it be possible?" the hunter exclaimed, in amazement.

"I can say nothing certain; but when I go back I fancy (though this is vague and surrounded by shadows in my mind) I can remember another existence, very different from the one I am leading at present."

"You can remember nothing positive?"

"Nothing: I see pass, as in a vision, a lovely pale lady, a man with a proud glance, and of tall stature, who takes me in his arms, and covers me with kisses, and then – "

"Well, and then?" the hunters exclaimed, in a panting voice.

"And then I see flames, blood, and nothing more, but a man carrying me off through the night on an impetuous steed."

The maiden, after uttering these words in a broken voice, hid her head in her hands. There was a lengthened silence, during which the Canadians attentively observed her: at length they drew themselves up, and Harry laid his hand on her shoulder: she raised her head.

"What would you of me?" she said.

"Ask you a question."

"Speak!"

"Since you have grown up have you never tried to clear up your doubts by questioning Red Cedar?"

"Yes," she answered, "once."

"Well?"

"He listened to me attentively, let me say all I had to say, and then gave me a glance of undefinable meaning, shrugged his shoulders, and answered, 'You are silly, Ellen; you must have had a bad dream. That story is absurd.' Then he added, in an ironical voice, 'I feel sorry for you, poor creature, but you are really my daughter.'"

"Well," Dick said, in a tone of conviction, as he struck the butt of his rifle fiercely on the ground, "I tell you that he lied, and that man is not your father."

"Doves do not lay their eggs in the nests of vultures," Harry added. "No, Ellen, no, you are not that man's daughter."