The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West. Gustave Aimard

happened."

      "I am listening to you," Don Miguel replied, making an effort to calm himself.

      "Two days after your departure, father," Don Pablo continued, "I was superintending, as you wished me to do, the cutting of the cane crop, when a hunter whom you will probably remember having seen prowling about the estate, a man of the name of Andrés Garote, accosted me at the moment I was about to return home after giving my orders to the majordomo. After saluting me obsequiously as his wont, the scamp smiled cunningly, and lowering his voice so as not to be overheard by those around us, said, 'Don Pablo, I fancy you would give half an ounce to the man who brought you important news?' 'That depends,' I answered; for, having known the man a long time, I was aware much confidence could not be placed in him. 'Bah! Your grace is so rich,' he continued insidiously, 'that a miserable sum like that is less than nothing in his pocket, while in mine it would do me a deal of good.'

      "Apart from his defects, this scamp had at times done us a few small services; and then, as he said, a half-ounce is but a trifle, so I gave it to him. He stowed it away in his pockets, and then bent down to my ear. 'Thanks, Don Pablo,' he said to me. 'I shall not cheat you of your money. Your horse is rested, and can stand a long journey. Proceed to Buffalo Valley, and there you will learn something to interest you.' It was in vain that I urged him to explain himself more clearly; I could draw no more from him. He merely added before parting from me, 'Don Pablo, you have good weapons; so take them with you, for no man knoweth what may happen.' Somehow the scamp's veiled confidence aroused my curiosity: hence I resolved to go to Buffalo Valley, and gain the clue of this riddle."

      "Andrés Garote is a villain, who laid a snare for you, into which you fell," Don Miguel interrupted.

      "No, father, you are mistaken. Andrés was honest towards me, and I have only thanks to give him. Still he should have explained himself, perhaps, more distinctly."

      The hacendero shook his head with a doubting air.

      "Go on," he said.

      "I entered my house, procured the weapons, and then, mounted on Negro, my black charger, I proceeded toward Buffalo Valley. As you are aware, father, the place we call so, and which belongs to us, is an immense forest of cedars and maples, nearly forty miles in circumference, and traversed almost through its entire length by a wide confluent of the Rio San Pedro."

      "Of course I know it, and I intend next year to fell some of the wood there."

      "You need not take the trouble," the young man said with a smile, "for someone has done it for you."

      "What do you mean?" the hacendero asked wrathfully. "Who dared?"

      "Oh! One of those wretched heretic squatters, as they call themselves. The villain found the spot to suit him, and has quietly settled there with his three whelps – three big fellows with hang-dog faces, who laughed at me when I told them the forest was mine, and answered, while aiming at me, that they were North Americans, who cared as little for me as they did for a coyote; that the ground belonged to the first comer; and that I shall afford them lively pleasure by being off at full speed. What more shall I tell you, father? I take after you. I have hot blood, and I cordially hate that race of Yankee pirates, who, for some years back, have settled on our lovely country like a swarm of mosquitoes. I saw our forest plundered, our finest trees cut down. I could not remain unmoved in the presence of these scoundrels' insolence, and the quarrel became so sharp that they fired at me."

      "Virgen Santísima!" Don Miguel exclaimed in fury, "They shall pay dearly for the affront they have offered you I swear it! I will take exemplary vengeance."

      "Why be so angry, father?" the young man replied, visibly annoyed at the effect his story had produced. "The harm these people do us is really very trifling. I was in the wrong to let my passion carry me away."

      "On the contrary, you were right. I will not have these Northern thieves come and commit their plunder here. I will put a stop to it."

      "I assure you that, if you will leave me to act, I feel certain of arranging this affair to your entire satisfaction."

      "I forbid you taking the slightest steps, for this matter concerns me now. Whatever may occur, I do not wish you to interfere. Will you promise me this?"

      "As you insist, I do so, father."

      "Very good. Get cured as speedily as possible, and keep your mind at rest. The Yankees shall pay me dearly for the blood they have shed."

      With these words Don Miguel retired, and his son fell back on his bed stifling a sigh, and uttering a hoarse exclamation of passion.

      CHAPTER VI

      THE SQUATTER'S SHANTY

      Don Pablo had not told his father the facts in all their truth or detail. He had fallen into a perfect ambuscade. He was suddenly attacked by the three brothers, who would have mercilessly killed him, resolved to lay the blame of his death on the wild beasts, had not, at the moment when one of them lifted his knife on the young man, who was thrown down and rendered motionless by the others, a providential succour reached him in the person of a charming maid scarce sixteen years of age.

      The courageous girl rushed from a copse with the rapidity of a fawn, and threw herself resolutely into the midst of the assassins.

      "What are you about, brother?" she exclaimed in a melodious voice, whose harmonious notes echoed amorously in Don Pablo's ears. "Why do you wish to kill this stranger?"

      The three squatters, surprised by this apparition, which they were far from expecting, fell back a few paces. Don Pablo profited by this truce to jump up and regain possession of his arms, which had fallen by his side.

      "Was it not enough," the girl continued, "to rob this man, that you must now try to take his life? Fie, brothers! Do you not know that blood leaves on the hands of him who spills it stains which nothing can efface? Let this man retire in peace."

      The young men hesitated. Although unconsciously yielding to their sister's influence, they were ashamed of thus executing her wishes. Still they did not dare express their thoughts, and merely bent on their enemy, who awaited them with a firm foot and pistols in hand, glances laden with hatred and anger.

      "Ellen is right," the youngest of her brothers suddenly said. "No, I will not allow any harm to be done the stranger."

      The others looked at him savagely.

      "You would defend him, if necessary, I suppose, Shaw?" Nathan said to him ironically.

      "Why should I not, were it required?" the young man said boldly.

      "Eh!" Sutter remarked with a grin, "He is thinking of the Wood Eglantine."

      This word had been scarce uttered ere Shaw, with purpled face, contracted features, and eyes injected with blood, rushed with uplifted knife on his brother, who awaited him firmly. The girl dashed between them.

      "Peace, peace!" she shrieked in a piercing voice, "Do brothers dare threaten one another?"

      The two young fellows remained motionless, but watching and ready to strike in a moment. Don Pablo fixed an ardent glance on the girl, who was really admirable at this moment. With her features animated by anger, her head erect, and her arms stretched out between the two men, she bore a startling likeness to those Druidesses who in olden times summoned the warriors to combat beneath the forests of Germany.

      In her whole person she offered the complete type of the gentle Northern woman. Her hair light and golden like ripe corn; her eyes of extreme purity, which reflected the azure of the sky; her earnest mouth, with rosy lips and pearly teeth; her flexible and small waist; the whiteness of her complexion, whose delicate and transparent skin still bore the flush of adolescence – all was combined in this charming maiden to render her the most seductive creature imaginable.

      Don Pablo, a stranger to this kind of beauty, felt himself involuntarily attracted toward the girl, and entirely subjugated by her. Forgetting the reason that had brought him to this spot, the danger he had incurred, and that which still menaced him, he was fascinated and trembling before this delicious apparition, fearing at each instant to see it vanish like a vision, and not daring to turn his glance from her while he felt he had no strength left