The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico. Gustave Aimard

Mexican was a man endowed with an energetic organization, brave to rashness, whom no peril, however great it might be, had ever yet had the power to make him blench; in a few seconds he calculated all the favourable chances left him, and his determination was formed. The road he was following at this moment was assuredly the one frequented by the caravans proceeding from the United States to California or Mexico; and there was no other road but this in the mountains. Hence the Mexican resolved to form an entrenched camp, at the spot that might appear to him most favourable, fortify himself there as well as he could, and await the passing of the first caravan, which he would join.

      This plan was exceedingly simple, and in addition very easy to execute. As the travellers possessed an ample stock of provisions and ammunition, they had no reason to fear scarcity, while, on the other hand, seven or eight days in all probability would not elapse without the appearance of a fresh caravan; and the Mexican believed himself capable of resisting, behind good entrenchments, with his fifteen peons, any white or red plunderers who dared to attack him.

      So soon as this resolution was formed, the Mexican at once prepared to carry it out. After having briefly and in a few words explained to his disheartened peons what his intentions were, and recommending them to redouble their prudence, he left them, and pushed on in order to reconnoitre the ground and select the most suitable spot for the establishment of the camp.

      He started his horse at a gallop and soon disappeared in the windings of the road, but, through fear of a sudden attack, he held his gun in his hand, and his glances were constantly directed around him, examining with the utmost care the thick chaparral which bordered the road on the side of the mountain.

      The Mexican went on thus for about two hours, noticing that the further he proceeded the narrower and more abrupt the track became. Suddenly it widened out in front of him, and he arrived at an esplanade, across which the road ran, and which was no other than the Fort of the Chichimèques, previously described by us.

      The Mexican's practised eye at once seized the advantages of such a position, and, without loss of time in examining it in detail, he turned back to rejoin the caravan. The travellers, though marching much more slowly than their chief, had, however, pushed on, so that he rejoined them about three-quarters of an hour after the discovery of the terrace.

      The flight of the guide had nearly demoralized the Mexicans, more accustomed to the ease of tropical regions, and whose courage the snows of the Rocky Mountains had already weakened, if not destroyed. Fortunately for the chief's plans he had over his servants that influence which clever minds know how to impose on ordinary natures, and the peons, on seeing their master gay and careless about the future, began to hope that they would escape better than they had supposed from the unlucky position in which they found themselves so suddenly placed. The march was continued tranquilly; no suspicious sign was discovered, and the Mexicans were justified in believing that, with the exception of the time they would be compelled to lose in awaiting a new guide, the flight of the Indian would entail no disagreeable consequences on them.

      Singularly enough, Carnero the capataz seemed rather pleased than annoyed at the sudden disappearance of the guide. Far from complaining or deploring the delay in the continuance of the journey he laughed at what had happened, and made an infinitude of more or less witty jests about it, which in the end considerably annoyed his master, whose joy was merely on the surface, and who, in his heart, cursed the mishap which kept them in the mountains, and exposed him to the insults of the plunderers.

      "Pray, what do you find so agreeable in what has happened that you are or affect to be so merry, Ño Carnero?" he at length asked with considerable ill temper.

      "Forgive me, mi amo," the capataz answered humbly; "but you know the proverb, 'What can't be cured must be endured,' and consequently I forgot."

      "Hum!" said the master, without any other reply.

      "And besides," the capataz added, as he stooped down to the chief, and almost whispering, "however bad our position may be, is it not better to pretend to consider it good?"

      His master gave him a piercing look, but the other continued imperturbably with an obsequious smile —

      "The duty of a devoted servant, mi amo, is to be always of his master's opinion, whatever may happen. The peons were murmuring this morning after your departure, and you know what the character of these brutes is; if they feel alarmed we shall be lost, for it will be impossible for us to get out of our position; hence I thought that I was carrying out your views by attempting to cheer them up, and I feign a gaiety which, be assured, I do not feel, under the supposition that it would be agreeable to you."

      The Mexican shook his head dubiously, but the observations of the capataz were so just, the reasons he offered appeared so plausible, that he was constrained to yield and thank him, as he did not care to alienate at this moment a man who by a word could change the temper of his peons, and urge them to revolt instead of adhering to their duty.

      "I thank you, Ño Carnero," he said, with a conciliatory air. "You perfectly understood my intentions. I am pleased with your devotion to my person, and the moment will soon arrive, I hope, when it will be in my power to prove to you the value I attach to you."

      "The certainty of having done my duty, now as ever, is the sole reward I desire, mi amo," the capataz answered, with a respectful bow.

      The Mexican gave him a side glance, but he restrained himself, and it was with a smile that he thanked the capataz for the second time. The latter thought it prudent to break off the interview here, and, stopping his horse, he allowed his master to pass him. The chief of the caravan was one of those unhappily constituted men who after having passed their life in deceiving or trying to deceive those with whom the accidents of an adventurous existence have brought them into contact, had reached that point when he had no confidence in anyone, and sought, behind the most frivolous words, to discover an interested motive, which most frequently did not exist. Although his capataz Carnero had been for a long time in his service, and he granted him a certain amount of familiarity – although he appeared to place great confidence in him, and count on his devotion, still, in his heart, he not only suspected him, but felt almost confident, without any positive proof, it is true, that he was playing a double game with him, and was a secret agent of his deceivers.

      What truth there might be in this supposition, which held a firm hold of the Mexican's mind, we are unable to say at present; but the slightest actions of his capataz were watched by him, and he felt certain that he should, sooner or later, attain a confirmation of his doubts; hence, while feigning the greatest satisfaction with him, he constantly kept on his guard, ready to deal a blow, which would be the sharper because it had been so long prepared.

      A little before eleven A.M. the caravan reached the terrace, and it was with a feeling of joy, which they did not attempt to conceal, that the peons recognized the strength of the position selected by their master for the encampment.

      "We shall stop here for the present," the Mexican said. "Unload the mules, and light the fires. Immediately after breakfast we will begin entrenching ourselves in such a way as to foil all the assaults of marauders."

      The peons obeyed with the speed of men who have made a long journey and are beginning to feel hungry; the fires were lighted in an instant, and a few moments later the peons vigorously attacked their maize tortillas, their tocino, and their cecina – those indispensable elements of every Mexican meal. When the hunger of his men was appeased, and they had smoked their cigarettes, the chief rose.

      "Now," he said, "to work."

      CHAPTER VI.

      THE SURPRISE

      The position which the leader of the caravan fancied he had been the first to discover, and where he had made up his mind to halt, was admirably selected to establish an intrenched camp – strong enough to resist for months the attacks of the Indians and the pirates of the prairies. The immense voladero hovering at a prodigious height above the precipices, and guarded on the right and left by enormous masses of rock, offered such conditions of security that the peons regained all their merry carelessness, and only regarded the mysterious flight of the guide as an accident of no real importance, and which would have no other consequences for them but to make their journey somewhat