Wood Rangers Part 17

"Come along, partner; or people will say you are ashamed to show yourself. Prove to these gentlemen that you know how to enjoy life like other folk."

"O certainly--I am coming--all right, comrade."

And the next moment the younger trapper made his appearance within the circle of light.

An odd-looking object he appeared, with his huge fur cap upon his head, drawn down in front, so as to cover his eyes, and an old striped cotton handkerchief fastened over his face and throat, in such a manner as to conceal the scar made by the claws of the tiger. With the cap and kerchief, the greater portion of his countenance was masked, leaving visible only his mouth, with a double row of grand teeth, that promised to perform their part upon the roast mutton.

Having reached the fire, he sat down with his back to it--so that his half-masked face was still further concealed in shadow--and being supplied, as well as his comrade, with a large cut from the joint, he at once set about satisfying the appet.i.te of hunger.

"Are there many men of your size and strength where you come from?"

inquired the Senator, addressing himself to the largest of the two hunters.

"In Canada," answered the latter, "I should not be remarked among others; ask my comrade there!"

"He speaks true," grumbled the other.

"But you are not both from the same country?" said Tragaduros.

"No--my comrade is a native of--"

"Of New York State," hastily interposed the younger of the two trappers--a reply which astonished the Canadian, but which he refrained from contradicting.

"And what is your calling?" continued the Senator, interrogatively.

"_Coureurs des bois_, wood-rangers," answered the Canadian. "That is to say, we pa.s.s our time in ranging the woods, with no other object than to avoid being shut up in towns. Alas! it is a profession likely soon to come to an end; and when we two are gone, the race of wood-rangers will run out in America, since neither of us has any sons to carry on the business of their father."

There was a tone of melancholy in the last words of the trapper's speech that contrasted strangely with his rude manner: something that seemed to evince a certain degree of regret. Don Estevan, noticing this, now entered into the conversation.

"I fear it is a poor business you follow, my brave fellows! But if you feel inclined to leave it off for a while, and take a part in an expedition that we are about to set on foot, I can promise to fill your caps with gold dust. What say you?"

"No!" brusquely responded the younger of the trappers.

"Each to his own business," added the Canadian. "We are not gold-seekers. We love to range freely where we please, without leader, and without being controlled by any one--in a word, free as the sun or the prairie breeze."

These answers were given in a tone so firm and peremptory that the Spaniard saw it would be of no use combating a resolution which was evidently not to be shaken, and therefore he declined to make any further offers.

Supper was soon over, and each of the travellers set about making himself as comfortable as possible for the remainder of the night.

In a short time all, with the exception of Tiburcio, were asleep. But Tiburcio was yet a mere youth, an orphan, who had lately lost a mother for whom he had a profound affection; and above all, Tiburcio was in love--three reasons why he could not sleep. A deep sadness had possession of his spirits. He felt himself in an exceptional situation--his past was equally mysterious with his future.

"Oh, my mother! my mother!" murmured he, despairingly, to himself, "why did you not tell me who I am!"

And as he said this he appeared to listen--as if the breeze, sighing through the leaves, would give a response to his interrogation. Little thought he at the moment that one of those men, lying near him under the light of the moon, could have given the desired answer--could have told him the name which he ought to hear.

Nevertheless, on her death-bed, the widow of Marcos Arellanos had revealed to him a secret--perhaps almost as interesting as that of his birth and parentage.

The secret of the Golden Valley, which had been made known to Tiburcio, had opened his eyes to a world of pleasant dreams. A prospect which hitherto had appeared to him only as a chimerical vision was now viewed by him in the light of a reality. A gulf that before seemed impa.s.sable was now bridged over as if by the hand of some powerful fairy.

Gold can work such miracles. Had he not in prospect the possession of a rich placer? Would not that enable him to overcome all obstacles both of the past and the future? Might he not, by the puissance of gold, discover who were his real parents? and by the same means, might he not realise that sweeter dream that had now for two years held possession of his heart?

As he lay upon the ground, kept awake by these hopeful reflections, a vision was pa.s.sing before his mind's eye. It was a scene in which were many figures. A gentleman of rich apparel--a young girl his daughter--a train of servants all affrighted and in confusion. They have lost their way in the middle of the forest, and are unable to extricate themselves from the labyrinth of llianas and thickets that surround them. A guide appears in the presence of a young hunter, who engages to conduct them to the place whither they wish to go. That guide is Tiburcio himself, who in his reverie--as in the real scene that occurred just two years before--scarce observes either the gentleman in rich apparel nor the attendants that surround him, but only remembers the beautiful dark eyes and raven hair of the young girl. Tiburcio rea.s.sures them of safety, guides them, during a journey of two days--two days that appeared to him to pa.s.s only too rapidly.

In his waking dream one scene is forcibly recalled. He remembers a night halt in the woods. All were asleep around him--the attendants upon the gra.s.s--the rich gentleman upon his cloak, and the young girl upon the skin of a jaguar which the guide himself had supplied. He alone remained awake. The moon was s.h.i.+ning upon all; and a delicious perfume from the blossoms of the sweet sa.s.safras trees that grew near was wafted toward them upon the gentle breeze. The blue heaven above appeared in perfect harmony with the tranquil scene below. The guide, with admiring eyes, looked upon that lovely virgin form and listened to the soft breathing of that innocent bosom. To him it was a moment of delicious anguish...

Then the vision changed--the young girl at length reached her home, and entered the grand dwelling of her father. There the guide remained a whole week a welcome guest--drunk with love yet not daring to raise his eyes to the object of his pa.s.sion.

Afterwards, too, at the festivals of the neighbouring villages, a hundred times had he gazed upon her; but what of that? he was only a poor _gambusino_, and she the daughter of the richest proprietor in the province!

But now--with the secret of the Golden Valley--Tiburcio suddenly saw himself powerful and rich; hope had sprung up within his bosom; and amidst the reverie occasioned by these delightful thoughts, he at last fell asleep.

It is scarce necessary to add that the young girl who recalled these sweet souvenirs, and who was now mingling in his dreams, was the daughter of Don Augustin Pena, the proprietor of the Hacienda del Venado.

At daybreak the sleepers were awakened by the ringing of a bell and the clatter of hoofs. It was the _cavallada_ returning to camp, under the charge of Benito, who had thus kept his promise. The travellers were soon upon their feet, but it was soon perceived that the two trappers were not amongst them. These had gone away without any one having observed their departure!

The horses being saddled and bridled and the mules packed, the cavalcade continued its journey towards the hacienda--Don Estevan and the Senator, as before, riding in front.

It was after sunset before the walls of the hacienda were descried in the distance, already a.s.suming a sombre hue under the fast increasing obscurity of the twilight. But through the wide forest tract which surrounded the hacienda a well-defined road led in the direction of the dwelling, which the travellers could follow even in the darkest night, and upon this road the cavalcade was now seen to enter.

A few minutes before they had pa.s.sed into the forest from the open plain two men were seen standing near the edge of a thicket, by which they were hidden from the view of the travellers. These men might have been easily recognised by their long rifles as strangers to that part of the country; they were, in fact, the two trappers, the Canadian and his comrade, who had that morning so abruptly taken leave of the camp.

"You must have been deceived by some accidental resemblance," said the Canadian to his companion.

"No," replied the latter; "I am sure it is he. Twenty years have not made much change either in his face or figure. His voice is just the same as it was when I was the coast-guard, Pepe the Sleeper. My eyes and ears are as good as they were then, and I a.s.sure you, Bois-Rose, that he's the very man."

"Strange enough," answered Bois-Rose (for the great Canadian trapper was no other than Bois-Rose himself). "After all, one is more likely to meet an enemy he is in search of than a friend. It may be the same."

As he finished this speech, the Canadian, leaning upon his long rifle, stood looking after the cavalcade, which was just disappearing into the forest road that led to the hacienda.

After remaining a few minutes in this position, the two trappers turned back again into the forest, and soon disappeared under the shadows of the trees.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE HACIENDA DEL VENADO.

The Hacienda del Venado--like all buildings of this kind situated upon the Indian frontier, and of course exposed to the attacks of the savages--was a species of citadel, as well as a country dwelling-house.

Built with sun-dried bricks and hewn stone, crowned by a crenelled parapet, and defended by huge, ma.s.sive doors, it could have sustained a siege from an enemy more expert in strategy than the tribe of Apaches who were its neighbours.

At one corner stood a tower of moderate height, which crowned the chapel belonging to the hacienda, serving for the great clock as well as for a belfry. In case the princ.i.p.al part of the building should be forced, this tower would answer for an asylum almost impregnable.

Finally, a strong stockade composed of trunks of the _palmetto_, completely encircled the building; within which enclosure were the quarters destined for the domestics of the hacienda--as also for the herdsmen, and such ordinary guests as from time to time came to seek a pa.s.sing hospitality. Outside this privileged enclosure was a group of from twenty to thirty huts, composing a species of little village.

These were inhabited by the day-labourers (peons) and their families attached to the hacienda--who, in case of danger, would escape within the enclosure for safety and protection.

Such was the Hacienda del Venado. The proprietor, Don Augustin Pena, was a man of great opulence. In addition to a rich gold mine which he worked, at no great distance off, he was the owner of countless herds of horses, mules, and cattle, that in a half-wild state roamed over the vast savannahs and forests that const.i.tuted the twenty leagues of land belonging to the hacienda. Such a vast tract of territory belonging to one man is by no means a rare thing in northern Mexico.

At this time Don Augustin was a widower, and his family consisted of only one daughter--the young girl already introduced to the reader.

Considering the immense heritage that the Dona Rosario--or, as she was more gracefully called, Rosarita--was likely to bring to whoever should become her husband, it was natural that an alliance with Don Augustin should be the object of many an ambition; in fact her beauty without the grand fortune--which, at her father's death, she was to become mistress of--would of itself have been enough to have challenged a crowd of pretenders to her hand.