owe him anything," he said, with a melancholy shake of the head.
"What do you mean?" the Tigrero exclaimed, eagerly; "surely the count cannot be dead!"
"He is dead, caballero. He was assassinated on the shores of Guaymas. His murderers laid him in his tomb, and his blood, so treacherously shed, cries to Heaven for vengeance: but patience, Heaven will not permit this horrible crime to remain unpunished."
The hunter hurriedly wiped away the tears he had been unable to repress while speaking of the count, and went on, in a voice choked by the internal emotion which he strove in vain to conquer: —
"But let us, for the present, leave this sad reminiscence to slumber in our hearts. The count was my friend, my dearest friend, more than a brother to me: he often spoke about you to me, and several times told me your gloomy history, which terminated in a frightful catastrophe."
"Yes, yes," the Tigrero muttered; "it was, indeed, a frightful catastrophe. I would gladly have found death at the bottom of the abyss into which I rolled during my struggle with Black Bear, could I have saved her I loved; but God decreed it otherwise, and may his holy name be blessed and praised."
"Amen!" the hunter said, sadly turning his head away.
"Oh!" Don Martial continued a moment later, "I feel my recollections crowding upon me at this moment. I feel as if the veil that covers my memory is torn asunder, in order to recall events, already so distant, but which have left so deep an impression on my mind. I, too, recognize you now; you are the famous hunter whom the count was trying to find in the desert; but he did not call you by any of the names you have mentioned."
"I dare say," Valentine answered, "that he alluded to me as the 'Trail Hunter,' the name by which the white hunters and the Indians of the Far West are accustomed to call me."
"Yes; oh, now I remember perfectly, that was indeed the name he gave you. You were right in saying that we had been long acquainted, though we had never met."
"And now that we meet in this desert," the hunter said, offering his hand, "connected as we are by the memory of our deceased friend, shall we be friends?"
"No, not friends," the Tigrero exclaimed, as he heartily pressed the hunter's honest hand; "not friends, but brothers."
"Well, then, brothers, and each for the other against all comers," the hunter answered. "And now that you are convinced that curiosity plays no part in my eager desire to know what has befallen you since the moment when you so hurriedly left your friends, speak, Don Martial, and then I will tell you, in my turn, what are the motives that directed my steps to these desolate regions."
The Tigrero, in a few moments, began his narrative as follows: —
"My friends must have fancied me dead, hence I cannot blame them for having abandoned me, although they were, perhaps, too quick in doing so without an attempt either to recover my corpse, or assure themselves at least that I was really dead, and that assistance would be thrown away; but though I am ignorant of what happened in the cavern after my fall, the bodies left on the battlefield proved to me afterwards that they had a tough fight, and were compelled to fly before the Indians; hence, I say again that I do not blame them. You are aware that I was attacked by Black Bear at the moment when I believed that I had succeeded in saving those whom I had sworn to protect. It was on the very verge of the pit that Black Bear and myself, enwreathed like two serpents, began a final and decisive struggle: at the moment when I had all but succeeded in foiling my enemy's desperate efforts, and was raising my arm to cut his throat, the war yell of the Comanches suddenly burst forth at the entrance of the cavern. By a supreme effort the Apache chief succeeded in escaping from my clutch, bounded on his feet, and rushed towards Doña Anita, doubtless with the intention of carrying her off, as the unforeseen assistance arriving for us would prevent the accomplishment of his vengeance. But the maiden repulsed him with that strength which despair engenders, and sought refuge behind her father. Already severely wounded by two shots, the chief tottered back to the edge of the pit, where he lost his balance. Feeling that he was falling, by an instinctive gesture, or, perhaps, through a last sentiment of fury, he stretched out his arms as if to save himself, caught hold of me as I rose, half-stunned by my recent contest, and we both rolled down the pit, he with a triumphant laugh, and I with a shriek of despair. Forgive me for having described thus minutely the last incidents of this fight, but I was obliged to enter into these details to make you thoroughly understand by what providential chance I was saved, when I fancied myself hopelessly lost."
"Go on, go on;" the hunter said, "I am listening to you with the greatest attention."
Don Martial continued: —
"The Indian was desperately wounded, and his last effort, in which he had placed all his remaining strength, cost him his life: it was a corpse that dragged me down, for during the few seconds our fall lasted he did not make a movement. The pit was not so deep as I fancied, not more than twenty or five-and-twenty feet, and the sides were covered with plants and grass, which, although they bent beneath our weight, prevented us from falling perpendicularly. The chief was the first to reach the bottom of the abyss, and I fell upon his body, which deadened my fall, though it was serious enough entirely to deprive me of consciousness. I cannot say how long I remained in this state, but, from a calculation I made afterwards, my faint must have lasted two hours. I was aroused by a cold sensation which suddenly affected me. I opened my eyes again, and found myself in utter darkness. At the first moment it was impossible for me to account for the situation in which I found myself, or what events had placed me in it; but my memory gradually returned, my thoughts became more lucid, and I only desired to emerge as speedily as possible from the pit into which I had fallen. I was suffering fearfully, although I was not actually wounded. I had received numerous contusions in my fall, and the slightest movement caused me an atrocious pain, for I was so bruised and shaken. In my present state I must endure the evil patiently: attempting to scale the sides of the pit when my strength was completely exhausted would have been madness, and I therefore resigned myself to waiting. I was in complete darkness, but that did not trouble me greatly, as I had about me everything necessary to light a fire. Within a few moments I had a light, and was enabled to look about me. I was lying at the bottom of a species of funnel, for the pit grew narrower in its descent, which had greatly helped to deaden my fall; my feet and legs almost to the knee were bathed in a subterranean stream, while the upper part of my body leant against the corpse of the Indian chief. The spot where I found myself was thirty feet in circumference at the most, and I assured myself by the help of my light that the sides of the pit, entirely covered with creepers, and even sturdy shrubs, rose in a gentle slope, and would not be difficult to escalade when my strength had sufficiently returned. At this moment I could not dream of attempting the ascent, so I bravely made up my mind, and although my anxiety was great about the friends I had left in, the cavern, I resolved to wait a few hours before proceeding to save myself. I remained thus for twenty hours at the bottom of the pit, tête-à-tête with my enemy's corpse. Many times during my excursions in the desert I had found myself in almost desperate situations, but never, I call heaven to witness, had I felt so completely abandoned and left in the hands of Providence. Still, however deplorable my position might be, I did not despair; in spite of the frightful pain I suffered, I had convinced myself that my limbs were in a satisfactory state, and that all I needed was patience. When I fancied my strength sufficiently restored, I lighted two torches, which I fixed in the ground, in order to see more clearly. I threw my rifle on my back, placed my navaja between my teeth, and clinging to the shrubs, by a desperate effort I began my ascent. I will not tell you of the difficulty I had in conquering the terrible shocks I was obliged to give my aching bones in surmounting almost unsurpassable obstacles; sufficient for you to know that I reached the mouth of the pit after an hour and a half's struggle, in which I expended all the energy a man possesses who hopes to save himself. When I reached the floor of the cavern, I lay for more than half an hour on the sand, exhausted, panting, unable to make the slightest movement, scarce breathing, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, not even
