The Pirates of the Prairies Part 56

"Look here," said Valentine, offering him a pistol. "Blow out your brains, it will be sooner over, and you will suffer less."

The bandit seized the weapon with a diabolical grin, and, with a movement swift as thought, fired at the hunter. But Curumilla was watching him, and cleft his skull with his tomahawk. The bullet whistled harmlessly past Valentine's ear.

"Thanks," said the bandit, as he rolled on the ground.

"What men!" Don Miguel exclaimed.

"_Canarios_, my friend," the general said, "you had a narrow escape."

The three men dug a hole into which they threw the bandit's body. The rest of the night pa.s.sed without incident, and at daybreak the hunt recommenced. About midday, the hunters found themselves again on the river bank, and saw two Indian canoes drifting down with the current.

"Back, back!" Valentine suddenly shouted.

All lay down on the gra.s.s, and at the same instant bullets ricochetted from the rocks, and arrows whizzed through the leaves, but no one was wounded. Valentine disdained to reply.

"They are Apaches," he said. "Let us not waste our powder; besides, they are out of range."

They set out again. Gradually, the forest grew clearer, the trees became rare, and they at length entered a vast prairie.

"Stop," said Valentine, "we must be approaching. I believe we shall do well, now that we have an expanse before us, to examine the horizon."

He stood upright in his saddle, and began looking carefully around.

Presently, he got down.

"Nothing," he said.

At this moment, he saw something glistening in the gra.s.s, on the river bank.

"What is that?" he asked himself, and bent down. But, instead of rising again, he bent lower still, and in a second turned to Curumilla.

"The moccasin," he said, sharply.

The Indian handed it to him.

"Look!" the hunter said.

At this spot the sand was damp, and, under a pile of leaves, there appeared clearly and distinctly the trace of a man's foot, with the toes in the water.

"They are only two hours ahead of us," said Valentine. "One of them lost a horse bell here."

"They have crossed the river," said Eagle-wing.

"That is easy to see," the general remarked.

Valentine smiled, and looked at Curumilla, who shook his head.

"No," the hunter said. "It is a trick, but they shall not catch me."

Making his comrades a signal not to stir, Valentine turned his back to the river, and walked rapidly toward a tree covered hill a short distance off.

"Come!" he shouted, so soon as he reached the top. Several dead trees lay scattered in an open s.p.a.ce. Aided by Curumilla, Valentine began removing them. The Mexicans, whose curiosity was aroused to an eminent degree, also lent a hand.

In a few minutes, several trees were rolled on one side. Valentine then removed the leaves, and discovered the remains of a fire, with the ashes still warm.

"Come, come," he said, "Red Cedar is not so clever as I thought."

Don Miguel, his son, and the general were astounded, but the hunter only smiled.

"It is nothing," he said. "But the shadow of the sun is already lengthening on the horizon, within three hours, it will be night; so remain here. When the gloom is thick, we will start again."

They bivouacked.

"Now, sleep," Valentine bade them. "I will awake you when necessary, for you will have smart work tonight."

And joining example to precept, Valentine lay down on the ground, closed his eyes, and slept. At about an hour after sunset, he woke again; he looked around, his comrades were still asleep, but one was absent--Curumilla.

"Good," Valentine thought; "the chief has seen something, and gone to reconnoitre."

He had scarce finished this aside, when he noticed two shadows standing out vaguely in the night; the hunter darted behind a tree, and c.o.c.ked his rifle. At the same instant, the cry of the swan was audible a short distance off.

"Halloh!" said Valentine, as he withdrew his rifle, "Can Curumilla have made another prisoner? Let me have a look."

A few minutes later, Curumilla arrived, closely followed by an Indian warrior, who was no other than Black Cat. On seeing him, Valentine repressed with difficulty a cry of surprise.

"My brother is welcome," he said.

"I was expecting my brother," the Apache chief said, simply.

"How so?"

"My brother is on the trail of Red Cedar?"

"Yes."

"Red Cedar is there," said Black Cat, pointing in the direction of the river.

"Far?"

"About half an hour."

"Good. How does my red brother know it?" the hunter asked, with ill-concealed suspicion.

"The great pale warrior is the brother of Black Cat; he saved his life.

The redskins have a long memory. Black Cat a.s.sembled his young men, and followed Red Cedar to deliver him to his brother Koutonepi."

Valentine did not for an instant doubt the good faith of the Apache Chief; he knew how religiously the Indians keep their oaths. Black Cat had formed an alliance with him, and he could place implicit confidence in his words.

"Good," he said, "I will wake the pale warriors; my brother will guide us."