The Trapper's Daughter Part 40

"Try."

"It is useless; I feel that my heart fails me. Good-bye, my friend."

Valentine made no answer--he was thinking. After an instant he raised his head, and his face was radiant.

"By Jove!" he said, gaily, "I was certain I should discover a way before long. Leave me alone, I answer for everything. You shall cross as if in a carriage."

The general smiled.

"Brave heart!" he muttered.

"Wait for me," Valentine went on; "in a few minutes I will return, only grant me the time to prepare what I want."

The hunter seized the rope and pa.s.sed, but as soon as the general saw him on the other side, he unfastened the la.s.so and threw it across.

"What are you doing?--Stop!" the hunters shouted in stupor, mingled with horror.

The general bent over the barranca, holding on to a rock with his left hand.

"Red Cedar must not discover your trail," he said; "that is why I unfastened the la.s.so. Good-bye, brother, and may the Almighty aid you."

An explosion was heard, echoed in the distance by the mountains, and the general's corpse rolled into the abyss, bounding from rock to rock with a dull sound. General Ibanez had blown out his brains.[1]

At this unexpected denouement the hunters were petrified. They could not understand how, through the fear of killing himself in crossing the canon, the general had preferred blowing out his brains. Still, the action was logical in itself; it was not death, but only the mode of death that terrified him; and as he fancied it an impossibility to follow his comrades, he had preferred sudden death. Still, in dying, the brave general had rendered them a final and immense service. Thanks to him, their trail had so entirely disappeared, that it would be impossible for Red Cedar to find it again.

The hunters, although they had succeeded in escaping from the fatal circle in which the pirate had thrust them, owing to Valentine's daring resolve, still found themselves in a most critical situation: they must get down into the plain as speedily as possible, in order to find some road, and, as always, happens in the desert under such circ.u.mstances, every sympathy must promptly yield to the necessity that held them in its iron arms; the common danger suddenly aroused in them that feeling of self-preservation which never does more than sleep.

Valentine was the first to overcome his grief and regain his self-mastery. Since he had been crossing the desert, the hunter had witnessed so many strange scenes, had been an actor in so many mournful tragedies, that, his tender feelings were considerably blunted, and the most terrible events affected him but slightly.

Still, Valentine felt a deep friends.h.i.+p for the general; in many circ.u.mstances he had appreciated all that was really grand and n.o.ble in his character, hence the fearful catastrophe which had, without any preparation, broken the ties between them, produced a great impression on him.

"Come, come," he said, shaking his head as if to get rid of painful thoughts, "what can't be cured must be endured. Our friend has left us for a better world,--perhaps it is for the best so. G.o.d does everything well; our grief will not restore our dear friend's life, so let us think of ourselves, my friends, for we are not lying on roses, and if we do not make haste, we may run a risk of speedily joining him. Come, let us be men."

Don Miguel Zarate looked at him sadly.

"That is true," he said; "he is happy now; let us attend to ourselves.

Speak then, Valentine: what is to be done? We are ready."

"Good," said Valentine; "it is time for our courage to return, for the hardest part of our task is not yet done; it is nothing to have crossed that barranca if our trail can be found here, and that I wish to avoid."

"Hum!" Don Pablo remarked; "that is very difficult, not to say impossible."

"Nothing is impossible with strength, courage, and skill. Listen attentively to what I am about to say to you."

"We will."

"The barranca, on this side of the mountain, is not peaked as it is on the side we have just left."

"That is true," said Don Miguel.

"About twenty yards below us you perceive a platform, close to which begins an inextricable forest, descending to the end of the precipice."

"Yes."

"That is our road."

"What, our road, my friend!" Don Miguel objected; "but how shall we reach the platform to which you allude?"

"In the easiest way: I will let you down with my la.s.so."

"That is true; it is easy for us, but how will you join us?"

"That need not trouble you."

"Very good," Don Miguel remarked; "but now permit me to make a remark."

"Do so."

"Before us," the hacendero said, stretching out his hand, "is a readily traced road, most convenient to follow, I fancy."

"In truth," Valentine coldly answered, "what you say is most correct; but two reasons prohibit my taking that road, as you call it."

"And those two reasons are?"

"First, that ready traced road is so easy to follow that I am certain Red Cedar's suspicions will be directed to it at once, if the demon allows him to come here."

"And the second?" Don Miguel interrupted.

"Is this," Valentine went on: "in addition to the incontestable advantages the road I propose offers, I do not wish, and I feel sure you are of the same opinion, that the body of my poor comrade, who has rolled to the foot of the precipice, should remain unburied and become the prey of wild beasts. That is my second reason, Don Miguel; what do you think of it?"

The hacendero felt his heart dilate at these n.o.ble words; the tears sprung from his eyes and rolled silently down his cheeks. He seized the hunter's hand, and pressed it forcibly.

"Valentine," he said, in a broken, voice, "you are better, than all of us; your n.o.ble heart is filled with every great and generous feeling; thanks for your good idea, my friend."

"It is agreed, then," the hunter simply said in response; "we will go."

"Whenever you please."

"Good; but as the night is dark, and the road rather dangerous, Curumilla, who has long been used to the desert, will go first to show you the way. Come, chief, are you ready?"

The Ulmen nodded his a.s.sent. Valentine leant his whole weight against a rock, twisted the la.s.so twice round his body, and let the end fall into the chasm; then, he made the chief, a sign to go down. The latter did not let the invitation be repeated; he seized the rope in both hands; and placing his feet in crevices in the rocks, he gradually descended till he reached the platform.

The hacendero and his son attentively followed the Indian's movements.

When they saw him safe on the rock, they gave a sigh of relief, and prepared to follow him, which they did without accident.

Valentine remained alone; consequently, no one could hold the la.s.so and render him the service he had done his comrades; but he was not embarra.s.sed by so trivial a circ.u.mstance. He pa.s.sed the rope round a rock, so that both ends were even, then slowly descended in his turn, and safely rejoined his comrades, who were startled and frightened at such a daring descent. Then he let go the end of the la.s.so, drew it to him, rolled it up, and fastened it to his girdle.

"I believe," he said with a smile, "that if we go on thus, Red Cedar will have some difficulty in finding our trail, while we, on the contrary, may find his. Come let us now take a look at our domain, and see a little where we are."