The Trapper's Daughter Part 66

"There are blocks of stone here which time has detached from the roof; before we go to sleep, I propose that we roll three or four of the largest into the hole by which we entered."

"Why so?" the squatter asked abruptly.

"In our present position two precautions are better than one; the Indians are such cunning demons, that they are capable of coming down the tree."

"The padre is right, old one," Sutter, who was half asleep, said; "it is no great task to roll the stones; but in that way we shall be easy in our minds."

"Do what you like," the squatter answered, still continuing to gaze on his daughter.

The two men, with their chief's approval, rose to carry out their plan, and half an hour later the hole was so artistically closed up, that no one would have suspected it had he not known it before.

"Now we can sleep, at any rate," said Fray Ambrosio.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

THE CASKET.

In spite of the start White Gazelle had, Don Pablo caught up to her before she had gone two leagues from camp. On hearing a horse galloping behind her, the girl turned, and one glance was sufficient for her to recognise the Mexican. At the sight of him a feverish flush suffused her face, a convulsive tremor fell upon her, and, in short, the emotion she felt was so powerful, that she was compelled to stop. Still, ashamed of letting the man she hopelessly loved see the impression the sight of him produced on her, she made a supreme effort, and managed to a.s.sume a look of indifference, while thoughts crowded her brain.

"What is he going to do here? Where is he going? We shall see," she added to herself.

She waited, and Don Pablo soon found her. The young man, suffering from extreme nervous excitement, was in the worst possible mood to act diplomatically. On reaching the White Gazelle he bowed, and continued his journey without speaking to her. White Gazelle shook her head.

"I know how to make him speak," she said.

Hitting her horse sharply with her _chicote_, she started at a gallop, and kept by Don Pablo's side. The two riders went on thus for some time without exchanging a syllable. Each of them seemed afraid of opening the conversation, feeling in what direction it must turn. Still galloping side by side, they at length reached a spot where two paths forked.

White Gazelle checked her horse, and stretched out her arm in a northerly direction. "I am going there," she said.

"So am I," Don Pablo remarked, without hesitation.

The young woman looked at him with a surprise too natural not to be feigned.

"Where are you going, then?" she went on.

"Where you are," he said again.

"But I am going to Bloodson's camp."

"Well, so am I; what is there so amazing in that?"

"Nothing; how does it concern me?" she said with a significant pout.

"You will, therefore, permit me, Nina, to accompany you to your destination."

"I cannot and will not prevent you from following me; the road is free, caballero," she drily replied.

They were silent as if by common agreement, and were absorbed in thought. White Gazelle gave her companion one of those bright womanly glances that read to the bottom of the heart; a smile played round her cherry lips, and she shook her head maliciously. Singular thoughts doubtless fermented in her head.

At about two of the _tarde_, as they say in Spanish countries, they reached a ford on a small river, on the other side of which the huts of Bloodson's camp could be seen at a distance of about two leagues. White Gazelle halted, and at the moment her companion was about to take to the water, she laid her little hand on his bridle, and checked him, saying, in a soft but firm voice: "Before we go further, a word if you please, caballero."

Don Pablo looked at her in surprise, but made no attempt to remove the obstacle.

"I am listening to you, senorita," he said, with a bow.

"I know why you are going to Bloodson's camp," she continued.

"I doubt it," he said, with a shake of the head.

"Boy! This morning, when I was talking with Don Valentine, you were lying at our feet."

"I was."

"If your eyes were shut, your ears were open."

"What do you mean?"

"That you heard our conversation."

"Suppose I did, what do you conclude from that?"

"You are going to the camp to counteract my plans, and make them fail, if possible."

The young man started and looked disappointed at being so truly judged.

"Senorita," he said, with embarra.s.sment.

"Do not deny it," she said kindly; "it would be useless, for I know all."

"All!"

"Yes, and a great deal more than you know yourself."

The Mexican was amazed.

"Let us play fairly," she continued.

"I ask nothing better," he replied, not knowing what he said.

"You love the squatter's daughter?" she said distinctly.

"Yes."

"You wish to save her?"

"Yes."