is, therefore, my duty," Valentine went on, "to warn you: do not be afraid to withdraw; but be frank with me as I am with you: Curumilla and myself will suffice to carry out the task we have undertaken. The Mexican frontier stretches out about ten miles behind you; return to it, and leave to us the care of restoring your child to you, if you do not feel capable of braving, without giving way, the innumerable dangers that menace us. A sick man, by delaying our pursuit, would not only render it impossible for us to succeed, but might expose us all to the risk of being killed and scalped. Hence, reflect seriously, my friend, and putting away any question of self-esteem, give me an answer that allows me full liberty of action."
During this species of sermon, whose justice he recognised in his heart, Don Miguel had remained with his head bowed on his chest, and with frowning eyebrows. When Valentine ceased, the hacendero drew himself up and took the hunter's hand, which he pressed warmly, as he said —
"My friend, what you have said to me it was your duty to say: your remarks do not at all offend me, because they were dictated by the friendship you bear me. The observations you have made to me, I had already made to myself; but, whatever may happen, my resolution is immovable. I shall not turn back till I have found my daughter again."
"I knew that such would be your reply, Don Miguel," the hunter said. "A father cannot consent to abandon his daughter in the hands of bandits, without attempting all means to deliver her; still, it was my duty to make the remark I did. Hence we will not speak about it again, but prepare on the spot to draw up our plans of action."
"Oh, oh," the general said, with a laugh, "I am anxious to hear that."
"You will excuse me, general," Valentine answered; "but the war we carry on is completely different from that of civilised people; in the desert craft alone can triumph."
"Well, let us be crafty: I ask nothing better, especially as, with the slight forces we have at our disposal, I do not see how we could act otherwise."
"That is true," the hunter continued, "There are only five of us; but, believe me, five determined men are more dangerous than might be supposed, and I soon hope to prove it to our enemies."
"Well spoken, friend," Don Miguel said, gladly. "Cuerpo de Dios, those accursed Gringos shall soon realise that fact."
"We have," Valentine continued, "allies who will second us valiantly when the moment arrives: the Comanche nation proudly calls itself the 'Queen of the Prairies,' and its warriors are terrible enemies. Unicorn will not fail us, with his tribe; and we have also a friend in the enemy's camp in the Chief of the Coras."
"What are you saying?" the General gaily remarked. "Why, our success is insured."
Valentine shook his head.
"No," he said; "Red Cedar has allies too: the Pirates of the Prairies and the Apaches will join him, I feel convinced."
"Perhaps so," Don Miguel observed.
"Doubt is not admissible under the circumstances; the scalp hunter is too well used to a desert life not to try and get all the chances of success on his side."
"But, if that happen, it will be a general war," the hacendero said.
"Doubtless," Valentine continued; "that is what I wish to arrive at. Two days' march from where we now are there is a Navajo village; I have done some slight services to Yellow Wolf, the principal chief; we must proceed to him before Red Cedar attempts to see him, and insure his alliance at all risks. The Navajos are prudent and courageous warriors."
"Do you not fear the consequences of this delay?"
"Once for all, caballeros," Valentine answered, "remember that in the country where we now are the straight line is ever the longest."
The three men bowed resignedly.
"Yellow Wolf's alliance is indispensable to us: with his support it will be easy for us to – "
The sudden appearance of Curumilla interrupted the hunter. "What is the matter now?" he asked him.
"Listen!" the chief answered laconically.
The four men anxiously stopped talking.
"By Heavens!" Valentine said, as he hurriedly arose, "What is the matter here?"
And, followed by his comrades, he stepped into the thicket. The Mexicans, whose senses were dulled, had heard nothing at the first moment; but the noise which had struck the hunter's practised ear now reached them. It was the furious galloping of several horses, whose hoofs re-echoed on the ground with a noise resembling that of thunder. Suddenly, ferocious yells were heard, mingled with shots.
The five travellers, hidden behind trees, peered out, and soon noticed a man mounted on a horse lathered with foam, who was pursued by some thirty mounted Indians.
"To horse!" Valentine commanded in a low voice. "We cannot let this man be assassinated."
"Hem!" the general muttered, "We are playing a dangerous game, for they are numerous."
"Do you not see that the man is of our own colour?" Valentine went on.
"That is true," said Don Miguel. "Whatever happens, we must not allow him to be massacred in cold blood by those ferocious Indians."
In the meanwhile, the pursuers and pursued had come nearer the spot where the hunters were ambushed behind the trees. The man the Indians were so obstinately following drew himself up haughtily in his saddle, and, while galloping at full speed, turned from time to time to fire his rifle into the thick of his enemies. At each discharge a warrior fell; his comrades then uttered fearful yells, and answered by a shower of arrows and bullets. But the stranger shook his head disdainfully, and continued his career.
"Caspita!" the general said with admiration; "That is a brave fellow."
"On my soul," Don Pablo exclaimed, "it would be a pity to see him killed."
"We must save him," Don Miguel could not refrain from saying.
Valentine smiled gently.
"I will try it," he said. "To horse!"
Each leaped into the saddle.
"Now," Valentine continued, "remain invisible behind the shrubs. These Indians are Apaches; when they come within range, you will all fire without showing yourselves."
Each set his rifle, and held in readiness. There was a moment of supreme expectation, and the hunters' hearts beat violently.
The Indians still approached, bowed over the necks of their panting steeds, brandishing their weapons furiously, and uttering at intervals their formidable war cry. They came up at headlong speed, preceded about one hundred yards by the man they were pursuing, whom they must soon catch up, for his wearied horse stumbled continually, and was sensibly diminishing its speed.
At length the stranger passed with lightning speed the thicket which concealed those who were about to try a diversion in his favour, that might ruin them.
"Attention," Valentine commanded in a low voice. The rifles were lowered on the Apaches.
"Aim carefully," the Trail-hunter added. "Every bullet must, kill its man."
A minute elapsed – a minute an age in length.
"Fire!" the hunter suddenly shouted;
