Part 43 (2/2)
The Indians came crowding around the corpse--both warriors and women.
Their exclamations betokened no sympathy. Even the squaws looked on with unpitying aspect--though the victim was of their own race and s.e.x.
They knew she had been allied with their enemies; and had been witnesses of her savage a.s.sault upon _Maranee_, though ignorant of its motive.
Some of them who had lost kindred in the strife, already stirred by grief and fury, were proceeding to insult the lifeless and mutilated remains--to mutilate them still more! I turned away from the loathsome scene. Neither the dead nor the living, that composed this ghastly tableau, had further interest for me.
My glance, wandering in search of other forms, first fell upon that of Wingrove. He was standing near, in an att.i.tude that betokened extreme prostration of spirit. His head hung forward over his breast; but his eyes were not directed to the ground: they were turned upward, gazing after a form that was pa.s.sing away. It was that of the huntress. The girl had regained her horse; and was riding off, followed by the dog.
She went slowly--as if irresolute both as to the act and the direction.
In both, the horse appeared to have his will: the reins rested loosely upon his withers; while his rider seemed wrapped in a silent abstraction. I was hastening towards my Arab, with the design of joining her, when I saw that I was antic.i.p.ated. Another had conceived a similar intention. It was Wa-ka-ra.
The young chief, still on horseback, was seen spurring out from the midst of his men, and guiding his war-steed in the direction taken by the huntress. Before I could lay hands upon my bridle, he had galloped up to Marian, and falling into a gentler pace, rode on by her side. I did not attempt to follow them. Somewhat chagrined at having my designs interrupted, I gave up the intention of mounting my horse, and turned back towards Wingrove. As soon as I was near enough to read the expression upon his features, I saw that my chagrin was more than shared by him. An emotion of most rancorous bitterness was burning in the breast of the young backwoodsman. His glance was fixed upon the two forms--slowly receding across the plain. He was regarding every movement of both with that keen concentrated gaze, which jealousy alone can give.
”Nonsense, Wingrove!” said I, reading the thoughts of his heart. ”Don't let that trouble you: there's nothing between them, I can a.s.sure you.”
Certainly the spectacle was enough to excite the suspicions of a less jealous lover--if not to justify them. Both the equestrians had halted at a distant part of the plain. They were not so distant, but that their att.i.tudes could be observed. They still remained on horseback; but the horses were side by side, and so near each other, that the bodies of their riders appeared almost touching. The head of the chief was bent forward and downward; while his hand appeared extended outward, as if holding that of the huntress! It was a fearful tableau for a lover to contemplate--even at a distance; and the white lips, clenched teeth, and quick irregular beating of Wingrove's heart--perfectly audible to me as I stood beside him--told with what terrible emotions the sight was inspiring him. I was myself puzzled at the att.i.tude of the Utah chief--as well as the silent complaisance with which his attentions appeared to be received. It certainly had the seeming of gallantry--though I was loth to believe in its reality. In truth I could not give credence to such a thought. It was not human nature--not even woman's--to play false in such _sans facon_. The appearance must certainly be a deception?
I was endeavouring to conjecture an explanation, when a moving object attracted my attention. It was a horseman who appeared upon the plain, beyond where the huntress and the chief had halted. To our eyes, he was nearly in a line with them--approaching down the valley from the upper canon--out of which he had evidently issued. He was still at a considerable distance from the other two; but it could be seen that he was coming on at full gallop and straight towards them. In a few moments, he would be up to where they stood. I watched this horseman with interest. I was in hopes he would keep on his course, and interrupt the scene that was annoying myself, and torturing my companion. I was not disappointed in the hope. The hurrying horseman rode straight on; and, having arrived within a few paces of the ground occupied by the others, drew his horse to a halt. At the same instant, the Utah chief was seen to separate from his companion; and riding up to the stranger, appeared to enter into conversation with him.
After some minutes had elapsed, the chief faced round to the huntress; and, apparently giving utterance to some parting speech, headed his horse toward the b.u.t.te, and along with the stranger, came galloping downward. The huntress kept her place; but I saw her dismount, and stoop down towards the dog, as if caressing him. I resolved to seize the opportunity of speaking with her alone; and, bidding Wingrove wait for my return, I once more hastened to lay hold of my horse. Perhaps I should encounter the chief on the way? Perhaps he might not exactly like the proceeding? But Marian must be communicated with upon something besides matters of love; and my honest intention rendered me less timid about any idle construction the savage might please to put upon my conduct. Thus fortified, I leaped to the back of my steed, and hurried off upon my errand.
CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT.
A FRESH ECLAIRCISs.e.m.e.nT.
As we rode in counter-directions, I met the chief almost on the instant.
I was slightly surprised that he pa.s.sed, without taking notice of me!
He could not fail to guess whither I was going: as I was heading straight for the huntress; and here was no other object to have drawn me in that direction. He did not even appear to see me! As he pa.s.sed at a rapid pace, his eyes were bent forward upon the b.u.t.te, or occasionally turned towards the horseman who galloped by his side. The strange horseman was an Indian. From the absence of the war-costume, I could tell he had not been engaged in the late conflict, but had just arrived from some distant journey--no doubt, a messenger who brought news. His jaded horse and dusky garb justified this conjecture. Equally desirous of shunning an encounter, I pa.s.sed the two riders in silence, and kept on my course. As I drew near to the huntress-maiden, I was speculating on the reception I might expect, and the explanation I ought to give.
How would she receive me? Not with much grace, I feared; at all events, not till she should hear what I had to say. The ambiguous and ill-timed appearance of the Chicasaw, combined with the sinister and dramatic incident which followed, must have produced on her mind eccentric and erroneous impressions. The effect would naturally be to falsify, not only the protestations of her lover, but my own testimony borne in his behalf, and indeed all else she had been told. It was not difficult to predict an ungracious reception. As I approached, she gave over caressing the dog; and once more leaped to the back of her horse. I was in fear that she would ride off, and shun me. I knew I could easily overtake her; but a chase of this nature would scarcely have been to my liking.
”Marian Holt!” I said, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, ”your suspicions are unjust; I have come to offer you an explanation--”
”I need none,” interrupted she in a quiet voice, but without raising her eyes. A gentle wave of her hand accompanied the words. I fancied both the tone and the gesture were repellant; but soon perceived that I was mistaken. ”I need none,” she repeated, ”all has been explained.”
”Explained! How?” I inquired, taken by surprise at the unexpected declaration. ”Wa-ka-ra has told me all.”
”What!--of Su-wa-nee?” A gesture of a.s.sent was the answer. ”I am glad of this. But Wa-ka-ra! how knew he the circ.u.mstance?”
”Partly from the Mexican to whom your people have communicated them-- partly from the captive Arapahoes. Enough--I am satisfied.”
”And you forgive Wingrove?”
”Forgiveness now lies upon his side. I have not only wronged him by my suspicions, but I have reviled him. I deserve his contempt, _I_ can scarcely hope to be forgiven.”
Light had broken upon me--bright light it was for Wingrove! The suspicious _duetto_ with the Utah chief was explained. Its innocence was made further manifest, by what came under my eyes at the moment. On the arm that was raised in gesture, I observed a strip of cotton wound round it above the wrist. A spot of blood appeared through the rag!
”Ha! you are wounded?” said I, noticing the bandage. ”It is nothing-- merely a scratch made by the point of the knife. Wa-ka-ra has bound it up. It still bleeds a little, but it is nothing.” It was the _role_ of the surgeon, then, the chief had been playing when seen in that ambiguous att.i.tude! More light for Wingrove!
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