The Trapper's Daughter: A Story of the Rocky Mountains. Gustave Aimard

family, as well as the servants, had been murdered."

      Bloodson stopped.

      "Terminate this sad story, uncle," the girl said, hastily, "I must know all, in order to take my share of the vengeance."

      "That is true," Don Stefano replied; "but I have little more to say, and will be brief; during a whole night I traversed these smoky ruins, seeking the corpses of those I loved; and when, after infinite difficulty, I succeeded in finding them, I interred them piously, and took an oath to avenge them over their tomb. This oath I have religiously kept during fifteen years; unhappily, though I have punished many culprits, up to the present the leaders have escaped me by some extraordinary fatality. Your father, whom I found dying, expired in my arms ere he was able to tell me his assassins; and though I have strong grounds for accusing Wilkes and his companions, no proof has yet corroborated my suspicions, and the names of the villains are unknown to me. It was only the day before yesterday, when the scoundrel Sandoval fell, that I fancied I had discovered one of them at last."

      "You were not mistaken, uncle; that man was really one of our ravishers," Mercedés replied, in a firm voice.

      "And the others?" Don Stefano quickly asked.

      "I know them, uncle."

      At this revelation, Don Stefano uttered a cry that resembled the howl of a wild beast.

      "At last!" he exclaimed, with such an outburst of fury, that the girl was almost terrified.

      "And now, dear uncle," she went on, "permit me to ask you one question, after which I will answer yours, if you have any to ask."

      "Speak, child."

      "Why did you seize me and bring me here?"

      "Because I fancied you the daughter of that Sandoval, and wished to immolate you on the tomb of his victims," Bloodson answered, in a trembling voice.

      "Did you not hear, then, what the man said to me?"

      "No; seeing you bent over him, I thought you were watching him die. Your fainting fit, which I attributed to sorrow, only augmented my certainty; that is why I rushed on you so soon as I saw you fall."

      "But the letter you took from me would have revealed all to you."

      "Do you think, then, child, I took the trouble to read it? No, I only recognised you by the scapulary hung round your neck."

      "The finger of God is in all this," the girl said, with an accent of conviction; "it was really He who directed it all."

      "Now it is your turn, Mercedés tell me who the assassins are."

      "Give me the letter first, uncle."

      "Here it is," he said, handing it to her.

      The girl snatched it and tore it into the minutest fragments. Bloodson saw her do it without understanding her motive; when the last piece of paper was borne away by the breeze, the girl turned to her uncle.

      "You wish to know the names of the assassins of my father, you say, uncle?"

      "Yes."

      "You are determined that the vengeance you have been pursuing so long shall not escape you, now that you are on the point of obtaining it, and you wish to carry out your oath to the end?"

      "Yes; but why all these questions?" he asked, impatiently.

      "I will tell you, uncle," she replied, as she drew herself up with strange resolution; "I, too, have also taken an oath, and do not wish to break it."

      "What is its nature?"

      "To avenge my father and mother, but to accomplish it I must be free to act as I think proper, and hence I will not reveal those means to you till the time arrives; today I cannot do it."

      Such resolution flashed in the girl's jet-black eye, that Bloodson did not attempt to induce her to do what he desired; he understood that any pressing on his part would be useless.

      "Very good," he answered, "be it so; but you swore to me – "

      "That you shall know all when the moment arrives," she said, as she stretched out her right hand to the cross.

      "Your word is enough; but may I at least know what you intend doing?"

      "Up to a certain point you may."

      "Go on."

      "You have a horse?"

      "At the foot of the hill."

      "Bring it to me, uncle, and let me start; before all, let no one know the ties that unite us."

      "I will be dumb."

      "If ever you see or hear anything connected with me, believe nothing, feel surprised at nothing; say to yourself that I am acting on behalf of our common vengeance, for that alone will be true."

      Don Stefano shook his head, and said:

      "You are very young, child, for so rude a task."

      "Heaven will help me, uncle," she replied, with a flashing glance; "the task is just and holy, for I desire to punish my father's assassins."

      "Well," he continued, "your will be done: as you have said, it is a holy task, and I have no right to prevent you accomplishing it."

      "Thanks, uncle," the girl said, feelingly; "and now, while I pray at my father's tomb, do you fetch me your horse, that I may set out without delay."

      Bloodson retired without answering, and the girl fell on her knees at the foot of the cross. Half an hour later, after tenderly embracing Don Stefano, she mounted the horse, and started at a gallop in the direction of the Far West. Bloodson followed her as long as it was possible for him to see her in the darkness, and, when she had disappeared, he fell on the tomb on his knees, muttering in a hollow voice:

      "Will she succeed? Who knows?" he added with an accent impossible to describe.

      He prayed till day, but with the first beams of the sun he joined his comrades, and returned with them to the Far West.

      CHAPTER VI

      THE APACHES

      At the shot fired by Pedro Sandoval, after the fashion, of a peroration to his too lengthened story, as we have seen, the Apaches, who had hitherto kept out of earshot, ran up at full speed. Red Cedar hurried in pursuit of Bloodson, but uselessly; he could not catch up to him, and was compelled to rejoin his comrades. The latter were already making preparations to bury the old pirate, whose body they could not leave to be devoured by the wild beasts and birds of prey. Sandoval was a great favourite of the Apaches, with whom he had lived a long time, and they had on many occasions, been able to appreciate his courage and marauding talents.

      Stanapat had assembled his band, and was at the head of a certain number of resolute warriors, whom he divided into two parties, and then approached Red Cedar.

      "Will my brother listen to the words of a friend?" he said.

      "My father can speak; although my heart is very sad, my ears are open," the squatter answered.

      "Good," the chief continued; "my brother will take a party of my young men, and put himself on the trail of the palefaces, while I pay the white warrior the duties proper for him."

      "Can I thus leave a friend, before his body is placed in the ground?"

      "My brother knows what he ought to do, but the palefaces are rapidly retiring."

      "You are right, chief; I go, but I leave you my warriors – my comrades will be sufficient for me. Where shall I find you again?"

      "At Bloodson's teocali."

      "Good; will my brother soon be there?"

      "In two days."

      "The second sun will find me with all my warriors by the side of the sachem."

      Stanapat bowed in reply: Red Cedar approached the corpse of Sandoval, bent down, and seized his frigid hand.

      "Farewell, brother," he said, "pardon me for not being present at your funeral, but an important duty claims me; I am going to avenge you. Farewell, my old comrade, rest in peace, your enemies will not live many days