Part 9 (1/2)
”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 Ac.u.mapicthzin 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 d.i.c.k 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 Dona 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,” Dona 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, Dona Clara fell on her knees, clasped her hands, and addressed a fervent prayer to G.o.d. 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.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FLIGHT.
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.