Part 19 (1/2)

The waters had closed over the fugitives, sending up to heaven a cloud of spray, but the horses soon reappeared swimming vigorously toward the other bank. The Indians had halted on the hill, insulting by their yells and threats the victims who escaped by such a prodigy of daring. One of them, urged by his fury, and unable to pull up his horse in time, plunged into the Gila; but, having taken his precautions badly, the fall was mortal to the horse.

The Indian slipped off, and began striking out for the bank. Instead of continuing his flight, as he should have done, Eagle-wing, impelled by that spirit of bravado natural to the redskins, re-entered the river without hesitation, and, at the moment when the Apache warrior reappeared on the surface, he bent over, seized him by his long hair, and buried his knife in his throat. Then, turning to his enemies, who watched with a shudder this terrible drama, he drew up the wretch to his saddle-bow, scalped him, and brandis.h.i.+ng this sanguinary trophy with an air of triumph, he uttered his war yell.

The Apaches poured a shower of bullets and arrows round the Coras Sachem, who, standing motionless in the middle of the river, still waved his horrible trophy. At length he turned his horse's head, and rejoined his companion, who was awaiting him timorously on the bank.

”Let us go,” he said, as he fastened the scalp to his waist belt. ”The Apaches are dogs, who can do nought but bark.”

”Let us go,” she replied, as she turned her head away in horror.

At the moment when they started again without troubling themselves about their enemies, who, scattered along the other bank, were eagerly seeking a ford, Eagle-wing perceived a cloud of dust, which, on dissipating, permitted him to see a party of hors.e.m.e.n galloping up at lightning speed.

”There is no hope left,” he muttered.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SUCCOUR.

We will leave Eagle-wing and Dona Clara for a moment, and return to Bloodson's Teocali.

A few minutes before sunrise, Valentine awoke. ”Up,” he said to his companions, ”it is the hour for starting.”

Don Pablo and Shaw opened their eyes and got ready; but Curumilla was not there.

”Oh, oh,” the hunter said; ”the chief is up already, I fancy. Let us go down to the plain. We shall probably soon come across him.”

The three men left the grotto, and began, by the uncertain rays of the moon, sliding down the abrupt sides of the Teocali, leaving their comrades asleep. A few minutes later, they reached the plain, where Curumilla was waiting for them, holding four horses by the bridle.

Valentine gave a start of surprise.

”We had agreed to go on foot, chief,” he said. ”Have you forgotten that?”

”No,” the other replied, laconically.

”Then, why the deuce did you saddle these horses, which are useless to us?”

The Indian shook his head.

”We shall be better on horseback,” he said.

”Still,” Don Pablo observed, ”I fancy that it's better to follow a trail on foot, as you said yourself yesterday, Don Valentine.”

The latter reflected for an instant; then, turning to the young man, he answered him with a significant toss of the head:

”Curumilla is a prudent man. We have lived together for nearly fifteen years, and I have always found it best to follow his advice. Only once I wanted to have my own way, and then I all but lost my scalp. We will mount, Don Pablo. The chief has his reasons for acting as he is now doing, as the result will in all probability prove.”

The hunters leaped into the saddle, and, after a farewell glance at the Teocali, where their friends were resting, they let their horses feel the spur.

”In what direction are we going?” Don Pablo asked.