The Freebooters. Gustave Aimard

      "He is dead," the Captain interrupted him, "I killed him."

      "Good. But there is something about the affair I cannot understand."

      "General," the young man exclaimed, with some animation, "though the conducta is lost, the fight was glorious for the Mexican name. Our honour has not suffered; we were crushed by numbers."

      "Come, Captain, you are one of those men above suspicion, whom not the slightest stain can affect. If necessary, I would give bail for your loyalty and bravery before the world. Report to me frankly, and without any beating round the bush, all that has happened, and I will believe you; give me the fullest details about this action, in order that I may know whether I have to pity or punish you."

      "Listen, then, General. But I swear to you that if after my report the slightest doubt remains in your heart as to my honour and the devotion of my soldiers, I will blow out my brains in your presence."

      "Speak first, Caballero, we will see afterwards what your best course should be."

      The Captain bowed, and began an exact report of what had taken place.

CHAPTER VI.

       Table of Contents

THE HUNTER'S COUNCIL.

       Table of Contents

      We will now return to Tranquil, whom we have too long neglected. The Canadian had left his friends two musket shots from the Texan encampment, intending, were it required, to call in Carmela: but that was not necessary; the young man, though unwillingly, had consented to all the Canadian asked of him, with which the latter was delighted, for without knowing exactly why, he would have been sorry to facilitate an interview between the young people.

      Immediately after his conversation with the leader of the Freebooters, the hunter rose, and, in spite of the Jaguar's efforts to retain him, left the camp. He then remounted his horse, and, only half satisfied by his conversation with the Jaguar, returned thoughtfully to the spot where his friends were camping. The latter were awaiting him anxiously, and Carmela especially was suffering from a terrible uneasiness.

      It was a strange fact, which women alone can explain, that the maiden, perhaps unconsciously, entertained toward the Jaguar and Captain Melendez feelings which she was afraid to analyze, but which led her to take an equal interest in the fate of those two men, and fear a collision between them, whatever the result might have proved. But for all that, it is certain that if she had been obliged to explain the reason which impelled her to act thus, she would have been unable to answer; and had anybody told her that she loved one or the other, she would have energetically protested; under the honest conviction that she spoke the truth.

      Still, she felt herself, perhaps from different motives, irresistibly attracted toward them. She started at their approach; the sound of their voices caused her an internal thrill of happiness; if she remained long without news of them, she grew sad, pensive, and anxious; their presence restored her all her gaiety and birdlike freedom.

      Was it friendship, or was it love? Who can answer?

      Tranquil found his friends comfortably located in a narrow clearing, near a fire, over which their next meal was cooking. Carmela, a little apart, questioned with an impatient glance the path by which she knew the hunter must arrive. So soon as she perceived him, she uttered a suppressed cry of delight, and made a movement to run and meet him; but she checked herself with a flush, let her head droop, and concealed herself timidly behind a clump of floripondios.

      Tranquil peacefully dismounted, took the bridle off his horse, which he sent with a friendly slap on the croup to join its comrades, and then sat down by the side of Loyal Heart.

      "Ouf!" he said, "Here I am, back again, and not without difficulty."

      "Did you run any dangers?" Loyal Heart asked, eagerly.

      "Not at all; on the contrary, the Jaguar received me, as he was bound to do, that is, as a friend; and I have only to complain of his courtesy; besides, we have known each other too long for it to be otherwise."

      Carmela had softly come up to the hunter; she suddenly bent her graceful head down to him, and offered him her forehead to kiss.

      "Good day, father," she said, demurely, "you have already returned?"

      "Already!" Tranquil answered, as he kissed her and laughed, "Hang it, girl, it seems as if my absence did not appear to you long."

      "Pardon me, father, I did not mean that," she said, in great confusion.

      "What did you mean, then, my child?"

      "Oh, nothing."

      "Yes you did, you little rogue! But you cannot deceive me, with all your tricks; I am too old a fox to be taken in by a girl."

      "You are unkind, father," she answered, with a pout, "you always give a false meaning to what I say."

      "Only think of that, señorita! Well, do not be in a passion, I have brought you good news."

      "Do you mean it?" she said, clasping her hands joyfully.

      "Would you doubt my word?"

      "Oh, no, father."

      "Very good, so now sit down by my side and listen."

      "Speak, speak, father," she exclaimed eagerly, as she took the seat allotted her.

      "You seem to take great interest in Captain Melendez, my child?"

      "I, father!" she exclaimed with a start of surprise.

      "Hang it! I fancy a young lady must feel a lively interest in a person, to take such a step for his sake as you have done."

      The maiden became serious.

      "Father," she said a moment later with that little, resolute tone spoilt children know so well how to assume; "I could not tell you why I acted as I did; I swear that it was against my will, I was mad; the thought that the Captain and the Jaguar were about to engage in a mortal combat, made me chill at heart; and yet I assure you, now that I am cool, I question myself in vain to discover the reason which urged me to intercede with you to prevent that combat."

      The hunter shook his head.

      "All that is not clear, Niña," he replied; "I do not at all understand your arguments. Hang it! I am only a poor woodranger, possessing no more learning than I have drawn from the great scenes of nature I constantly have before my eyes, and a woman's heart is to me a closed book, in which I could not decipher a line. Still, girl, believe me, take care, and do not play imprudently with weapons whose strength and mechanism you are ignorant of; though the antelope be so light and active when it is leaping from rock to rock on the verge of precipices, the moment arrives when it grows giddy, its head turns, and it rolls into the abyss—I have often seen similar catastrophes in the forests. Take care, my girl, take care, and believe in the old hunter's experience."

      Carmela pensively leant her blushing brow on the Canadian's shoulder, and lifted to him her large blue eyes full of tears.

      "I am suffering, father," she murmured sadly.

      "Good Heavens! My child, you are suffering, and did not tell me—are you ill?" he exclaimed anxiously; "How imprudent it was of you to be out in the desert by night."

      "You are mistaken, father," she replied with a faint smile; "I am not ill, it is not that."

      "What is it then?"

      "I do not know, but my heart is contracted, my bosom is oppressed. Oh, I am very unhappy!"

      And hiding her head in her hands, she burst into tears. Tranquil looked at her for a moment with an astonishment mingled