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

midnight, and I do not feel the slightest inclination to sleep. Are you fatigued?"

      "I am never so," the Tigrero answered, with a smile.

      "All right: in that case you are like myself, a thorough wood ranger. What do you think of a ride in this magnificent moonlight?"

      "I think that after a good supper and an interesting conversation nothing so thoroughly restores the balance of a man's thoughts as a night ride in the company of a friend."

      "Bravo! that is what I call speaking. Now, as every ride to be reasonable should have an object, we will go, if you have no objection, as far as the Fort of the Chichimèques."

      "I was about to propose it; and, as we ride along, you will tell me in your turn what imperious motive compelled you to come to these unknown regions, and what the project is to which you alluded."

      "As for that," the hunter said, with a knowing smile, "I cannot satisfy you; at any rate not for the present, as I wish you to have the pleasure of a surprise. But be easy, I will not put your patience to too long a trial."

      "You will act as you think proper, for I trust entirely to you. I know not why, but I am persuaded, either through a sentiment or sympathy, that in doing your own business you will be doing mine at the same time."

      "You are nearer the truth at this moment than you perhaps imagine, so be of good cheer, brother."

      "The happy meeting has already made a different man of me," the Tigrero said, as he rose.

      The hunter laid his hand on his shoulder. "One moment," he said to him; "before leaving this bivouac, where we met so providentially, let us clearly agree as to our facts, so as to avoid any future misunderstanding."

      "Be it so," Don Martial answered. "Let us make a compact in the Indian fashion, and woe to the one who breaks it."

      "Well said, my friend," Valentine remarked, as he drew his knife from his belt. "Here is my navaja, brother; may it serve you as it has done me to avenge your wrongs and mine."

      "I receive it in the face of that Heaven which I call as witness of the purity of my intentions. Take mine in exchange, and one half my powder and bullets, brother."

      "I accept it as a thing belonging to me, and here is half my ammunition for you; henceforth we cannot fire at one another, all is in common between us. Your friends will be my friends, and you will point out your enemies to me, so that I may aid you in your vengeance. My horse is yours."

      "Mine belongs to you, and in a few moments I will place it at your service."

      Then the two men, leaning shoulder to shoulder, with clasped hands, eyes fixed on heaven, and outstretched arm, uttered together the following words:

      "I take God to witness that of my own free will, and without reservation, I take as my friend and brother the man whose hand is at this moment pressing mine. I will help him in everything he asks of me, without hope of reward, ready by day and night to answer his first signal, without hesitation, and without reproach, even if he asked me for my life. I take this oath in the presence of God, who sees and hears me and may He come to my help in all I undertake, and punish me if I ever break my oath."

      There was something grand and solemn in this simple act, performed by these two powerful men, beneath the pallid moonbeams, and in the heart of the desert, alone, far from all human society, face to face with God, confiding in each, and seeming thus to defy the whole world. After repeating the words of the oath, they kissed each other's lips in turn, then embraced, and finally shook hands again.

      "Now let us be off, brother," Valentine said; "I confide in you as in myself; we shall succeed in triumphing over our enemies, and repaying them all the misery they have caused us."

      "Wait for me ten minutes, brother; my horse is hidden close by."

      "Go; and during that time I will saddle mine, which is henceforth yours."

      Don Martial hurried away, leaving Valentine alone.

      "This time," he muttered, "I believe that I have at length met the man I have been looking for so long, and whom I despaired to find; with him, Curumilla, and Belhumeur, I can begin the struggle, for I am certain I shall not be abandoned or treacherously surrendered to the enemy I wish to combat."

      While indulging after his wont in this soliloquy, the hunter had lassoed his horse, and was busily engaged in saddling it. He had just put the bit in its mouth, when the Tigrero re-entered the clearing, mounted on a magnificent black steed.

      Don Martial dismounted.

      "This is your horse, my friend," he said.

      "And this is yours."

      The exchange thus effected, the two men mounted, and left the clearing in which they had met so strangely. The Tigrero had told no falsehood when he said that a metamorphosis had taken place in him, and that he felt a different man. His features had lost their marble-like rigidity; his eyes were animated, and no longer burned with a sombre and concentrated fire. Even though his glances were still somewhat haggard, their expression was more frank and, before all, kinder; he sat firm and upright in the saddle, and, in a word, seemed ten years younger.

      This unexpected change had not escaped the notice of the all-observing Frenchman, and he congratulated himself for having effected this moral cure, and saved a man of such promise from the despair which he had allowed to overpower him.

      We have already said that it was a magnificent night. For men like our characters, accustomed to cross the desert in all weathers, the ride in the darkness was a relaxation rather than a fatigue. They rode along side by side, talking on indifferent topics – hunting, trapping, expeditions against the Indians – subjects always pleasing to wood rangers, while rapidly advancing towards the spot they wished to reach.

      "By-the-bye," Valentine all at once said, "I must warn you, brother, that if you are not mistaken, and we are really following the road to the Fort of the Chichimèques, we shall probably meet several persons there; they are friends of mine, with whom I have an appointment, and I will introduce them to you; for reasons you will speedily learn, these friends followed a different road from mine, and must have been waiting for some time at the place of meeting."

      "I do not care who the persons are we meet, as they are friends of yours," the Tigrero answered; "the main point is that we make no mistake."

      "On my word, I confess my incompetence, so far as that is concerned; this is the first time I have ventured into the Rocky Mountains, where I hope never to come again, and so I deliver myself entirely into your hands."

      "I will do my best, although I do not promise positively to lead you to the place you want to reach."

      "Nonsense!" the hunter said with a smile; "two places like the one I have described to you can hardly be found in these parts, picturesque and diversified though they be, and it would be almost impossible to lose our way."

      "At any rate," the Tigrero answered, "we shall soon know what we have to depend on, for we shall be there within half an hour."

      The sky was beginning to grow paler; the horizon was belted by wide, pellucid bands, which assumed in turn every colour of the rainbow. In the flashing uncertain light of dawn, objects were invested with a more fugitive appearance, although, on the other hand, they became more distinct.

      The adventurers had passed the crossroads, and turned into a narrow track, whose capricious windings ran along rocks, which were almost suspended over frightful abysses. The riders had given up all attempts to guide their horses, and trusted to their instinct; they had laid their bridles on their necks, leaving them at liberty to go where they pleased – a prudent precaution, which cannot be sufficiently recommended to travellers under similar circumstances.

      All at once a streak of light illumined the landscape, and the sun rose radiant and splendid; behind them the travellers still had the shadows of night, while before them the snowy peaks of the mountains – were glistening in the sun.

      "Well," the hunter exclaimed, "we can now see clearly, and I hope that we shall soon perceive the Fort of the Chichimèques."

      "Look ahead of you over the jagged crest of that hill," the Tigrero answered, stretching