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

glances of the Indians, whose expression, although respectful, must necessarily be disagreeable to them.

      The new comers, at a signal from their conductors, ranged themselves with the other prisoners; they were powerful men with marked features, whom the Indians had probably not given a chance to fight, otherwise they looked as if they would sooner be killed than yield.

      They displayed neither fear nor depression, but their flashing looks and frowning brows showed that though they silently submitted to their fate, they were far from being resigned, and would eagerly seize the first opportunity to regain the liberty of which they had been so treacherously deprived.

      Still, in spite of the determination they had doubtless formed to remain indifferent as to what took place around them, they soon felt themselves interested more than they liked in the strange drama which they involuntarily witnessed, and whose gloomy preparations were of a nature to arouse their curiosity to an eminent degree.

      At the base of the rocks several blocks of granite had been arranged in a semicircle, thus forming a resemblance to that terrible Vehmic tribunal, which in olden times held its formidable assize on the banks of the Rhine, before which kings and even emperors were at times summoned to appear, and the resemblance was rendered more striking by the care the assailants took in hiding their features.

      Two masked men took their seats on the granite blocks, and the Indians who carried the general laid him on the ground in front of this species of tribunal. The person who seemed to be the president of this sinister assembly gave a sign, the prisoner's bonds at once fell off, and he found himself once more able to move his limbs.

      The general drew himself up, crossed his hands on his chest, threw his body back haughtily, raised his head and looked at the men who had apparently constituted themselves his judges with a glance of withering contempt.

      "What do you want with me, bandits?" he said; "enough of this; these insolent manoeuvres will not alarm me."

      "Silence!" the president said coldly, "it is not your place to speak thus."

      Then he remarked to the Jester, who was standing a few paces from him —

      "Bring up the other prisoners, old and new; everybody must hear what is going to be said to this man."

      The Jester gave a signal to the warriors; some of them dismounted, approached the prisoners, and, after loosening the cord that bound the capataz, they led him, as well as the peons and the prisoners of the second caravan, in front of the tribunal, where they ranged themselves in line. Then, at a signal from the Jester, the horsemen closed up round the white men, who were thus hemmed in by Comanche warriors.

      The spectacle offered by this assemblage of men, with their marked features and quaint garb, grouped without any apparent regularity on this voladero, which was suspended as if artificially over a terrible gulf, and leant against lofty mountains, with their abrupt flanks and snowy crest, was not without a certain grandeur.

      A deadly silence brooded at this moment over the esplanade; all chests were heaving, every heart was oppressed. Redskins, hunters, and Mexicans all understood instinctively that a grand drama was about to be performed; invisible streams could be heard hoarsely murmuring in the cavern, and at times a gust of wind whistled over the heads of the horsemen.

      The prisoners, affected by a vague and undefined terror, waited with secret anxiety, not knowing what fate these ferocious victors reserved for them, but certain that, whatever the decision formed about them might be, prayers would be impotent to move them, and that they would have to endure the atrocious torture to which they would doubtless be condemned.

      The president looked round the assembly, rose in the midst of a profound silence, stretched out his arm towards the general, who stood cold and passionless before him, and, after darting at him a withering glance through the holes made in the crape that concealed his face, he said in a grave, stern, and impressive voice —

      "Caballeros, remember the words you are about to hear, listen to them attentively, so as to understand them, and not to be in error as to our intentions. In the first place, in order to reassure you and restore your entire freedom of mind, learn that you have not fallen into the hands of Indians thirsting for your blood, or of pirates who intend to plunder you first and assassinate you afterwards. No, you need not feel the slightest alarm. When you have acted as impartial witnesses, and are able to render testimony of what you have seen, should it be required, you will be at liberty to continue your journey, without the forfeiture of a single article. The men seated on my right and left, although masked, are brave and honest hunters. The day may perhaps arrive when you will know them; but reasons, whose importance you will speedily recognize, compel them to remain unknown for the present. I was bound to say this, señores, to you, against whom we bear no animosity, before coming to a final settlement with this man."

      One of the travellers belonging to the second caravan stepped forward; he was a young man, with elegant and noble features, tall and well built.

      "Caballero," he answered, in a distinct and sympathizing voice, "I thank you, in the name of my companions and myself, for the reassuring words you have spoken. I know how implacable the laws of the desert are, and have ever submitted to them without a murmur; but permit me to ask you one question."

      "Speak, caballero."

      "Is it an act of vengeance or justice you are about to carry out?"

      "Neither, señor. It would be an act of folly or weakness if the inspirations of the heart could be blamed or doubted by honourable and loyal men."

      "Enough of this, señor," the general said, haughtily; "and if you are, as you assert, an honourable man, show me your face, in order that I may know with whom I have to deal."

      The president shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

      "No, Don Sebastian," he said, "for in that case the game would not be even between us. But be patient, caballero, and soon you will learn, if not who I am, at any rate the motives which have made me your implacable foe."

      The general attempted to smile, but in spite of himself the smile died away on his lips, and though his haughty bearing seemed to defy his unknown enemies, a secret apprehension contracted his heart.

      There was a silence for some moments, during which no other sound was audible save that of the breeze whistling through the denuded branches and the distant murmur Of the invisible torrents in the quebradas.

      The president looked round with flashing eyes, and folding his arms on his chest at the same time, as he raised his head, he began speaking again in a sharp, cutting voice, whose accents caused his hearers to tremble involuntarily. And yet they were brave men, accustomed to the terrible incidents of a desert life, and whom the most serious dangers could not have affected.

      "Now listen, señores," he said, "and judge this man impartially; but do not judge him according to prairie law, but in your hearts. General Don Sebastian Guerrero, who is standing so bold and upright before you at this moment, is one of the greatest noblemen of Mexico, a Cristiano viejo of the purest blood, descended in a direct line from the Spanish Conquistadors. His fortune is immense, incalculable, and he himself could not determine its amount. This man, by the mere strength of his will, and the implacable egotism that forms the basis of his character, has always succeeded in everything he has undertaken. Coldly and resolutely ambitious, he has covered with corpses the bloody road he was compelled to follow in order to attain his proposed object, and he has done so without hesitation or remorse; he has looked on with a smiling face, when his dearest friends and his nearest relations fell by his side; for him nothing which men respect exists – faith and honour are with him but empty sounds. He had a daughter, who was the perfection of women, and he coldly lacerated that daughter's heart; he fatally drove her to suicide, and the blood of the poor girl spirted on his forehead, while he was triumphantly witnessing the legal murder of the man she loved, and whose death he resolved on, because he refused to palter with his honour, and aid this man in the infamous treachery he was meditating. This human-faced tiger, this monster with the mocking, sceptical face, you see, señores, has only one thought, one object, one desire – it is, to attain the highest rank, even if, to effect it, he were compelled to clamber over the panting corpses of his relations and friends sacrificed to his ambition; and if he cannot