Part 2

It was afterward found to be a flat ledge of rock, with deep water above and below, but it was none the less a bitter pill for the pride of the warriors.

To think of squaws and children presuming to find, right there under their noses, the very thing they were hunting for up and down so anxiously! That, too, when any man's eyes, or any woman's, could now perceive a slight ripple in the water on the shallow place, such as ought to have made them suspect it at once.

The discovery of the ford made the spot safe for the camp. Orders were given not to put up any lodges or unpack any baggage until morning, and the whole band prepared for a night in the open air.

Long after Ni-ha-be was sound asleep, her adopted sister was lying wide awake, and gazing at the stars overhead.

"I remember now," she said to herself. "It was my father told me about the stars. That's why I knew what the talking leaves meant. He was very good to me. I can see him plainer and plainer all the while."

Rita gazed and gazed, and thought and thought, until at last her eyelids closed heavily, and she too was asleep. Not so soundly as Ni-ha-be, for many strange dreams came to her, and all she could remember of them was the very last and latest of all.

It was just like the picture in the talking leaves which Many Bears had spoken about the day before, only that now the miners did not look like that, and Rita in her dream actually thought she saw Many Bears himself among the Indians who were attacking them.

"He said he was there. I see him. They are coming. The squaw I saw in the book. Mother!"

And suddenly Rita found herself wide awake, and all the rest of her dream was lost to her.

Ni-ha-be too was awake.

"What is the matter, Rita?"

"Oh, a dream!"

"Ugh! I never dream. That's the talking leaves. Dreams are big lies like them. What was it?"

"The fight in the picture."

"Miners? Pale-faces? Look, Rita, the braves are mounting. It is hardly sunrise, but they are going. Did your dream say there was any danger coming to us?"

"No, it did not say."

"I don't care. The Apaches are warriors, and Many Bears is a great chief. He will not let an enemy come near his camp."

"Besides, we can cross the river."

"Yes, by the ford."

The return of the warriors was eagerly watched for, but Many Bears did not seem disposed to hurry back to his camp after his meeting with Steve and Murray.

Perhaps he was the more willing to ride slowly because it gave him an opportunity to ask a great many questions, and to consider the answers given.

He did not seem very curious as to the past history of his new friends. Indian politeness compelled him to let them keep their own affairs to themselves. Besides, the account they gave sounded well.

"Send Warning and Knotted Cord find mine? Ugh! Good. Apache not want him. Friend keep him. Then other pale-faces come for mine? Ugh! Bad. Drive off friend. Too many rifle. Too many big strong. You not like it. Ugh! Apaches drive 'em all away. Take every scalp. You see."

"We're in no hurry about the mine," said Murray. "Go back for it some day. Too many Lipans now."

"They go away too. Go beyond mountains. Never come over here before. Apaches teach 'em a lesson."

The mind of Many Bears was very much troubled. He wanted to travel westward as fast as possible, and yet here was a band of his tribe's worst and most ancient enemies within easy striking distance. Not to speak of Captain Skinner and his men, and the "plunder" there might be in their "outfit."

"What you say? Send Warning tell friend what do."

"Let 'em all alone," said Murray, promptly. "Maybe Lipans fight pale-faces. Maybe not. Both get scared and go away. No good to lose warrior for nothing."

"Get scalp. Get big name. Tribe say great chief."

That was the difficulty. His pride was in the way of his good sense.

Murray did his best in the remainder of that ride, and his peaceful advice might perhaps have been taken if it had not been for the hot temper of the younger braves and the "war spirit" they found at the camp on their arrival.

"They're a venomous lot," said Murray to Steve, as he looked around him, while they were riding in. All the mixed "reserve" who could get ponies had mounted them and ridden out to meet their chief and his warriors. More than one squaw was among them, ready to ply bow and arrows, or even a lance, if need should be.

Rita, who was on the look-out, saw the party as it approached, and called out to Ni-ha-be:

"Where are your eyes? Don't you see who is coming?"

"Father? All the braves? Oh, Rita, there are Knotted Cord and Send Warning!"

They did not so much as guess how eagerly their faces were all the while sought for by the eyes of the two pale-faces.

"Do you see them, Murray?" had been the first thing Steve had said as they were riding in.

"Not yet. Be careful, Steve. If you see them, you must not speak to them. Contrary to rule."

"Not speak to them!"

"Not till the chief himself introduces you. Even after that you must not say too much."

Steve was well pleased, as he looked around him, to see how very strong was that band of Apaches. It seemed as if he had just so much more reason to feel safe about again falling into the hands of the Lipans.

True, he was among the wildest kind of Indians, but he was not a prisoner, and the Apaches had no claim on him.

"They will not care whether I go or stay," he said to himself.

He had not gotten away from them yet, however, and among the first to welcome him was Red Wolf.

Steve was glad to meet the young brave again, and showed it, and so did Murray.

The latter, indeed, won the heart of Many Bears by saying of his son, in the presence of the warriors standing by,

"Brave young man. Stand right up and fight. Make a great war chief some day. I like him."

"Young men go," said Many Bears. "Send Warning stay with gray-heads."

Steve walked away at his new friend's side, both of them a little puzzled what to do or say, until Steve asked a question in Mexican Spanish.

The ice was broken. Red Wolf understood that tongue as well as Steve did.

"You are my brother. You are not a pale-face."

Steve was not altogether ignorant of Indian manners and of their bitter prejudices, and he replied:

"Brother. Yes. All right. I am an Apache now. Fight for tribe. Fight for brother."

That was precisely what he had already done, so that it was more than a mere profession, but the reply of Red Wolf had a great deal of frankness in it:

"Red Wolf is an Apache. He hates pale-faces. Glad his brother has come to be an Apache. Eat with him now. Show him foolish young squaw that ran away and got caught. Squaw know very little."

They had walked along for some distance when Red Wolf said that he was very near his own camp fire. He had not intended this remark for any ears but those of Steve Harrison, and his pride forbade his noticing the ripple of laughter which immediately followed it.

"Did you hear him, Rita?" said Ni-ha-be. "He was one of the braves who went to find the ford. They forgot to ask the squaws where to look for it."

Steve heard the rippling laugh, but he did not understand the words. Could they be making fun of him?

His cheeks burned red hot at the thought of it, for he turned his head just long enough to see that those two pairs of bright and searching eyes were looking straight at him. They dropped instantly, but not before they had seen the quick flush rise to his face.

"Ni-ha-be," said Rita, "he will think we are rude."

"Ni-ha-be, Rita," said Red Wolf at that moment, "tell Dolores she must cook for Knotted Cord. The chief says so. Bring blanket. Bring water. Be quick."

"Rita," said Ni-ha-be, while they were dipping their water gourds in the river, "he is as handsome as an Apache."

The two girls were certainly beginning to take a very great interest in their white friends and visitors, but they both stood gravely and silently enough before Red Wolf and Knotted Cord when they brought them the water.

"Young squaws thank you for help," said Red Wolf. "Both very glad. Very young. Very foolish. Daughters of great chief himself."

Steve almost forgot Murray's caution, for he frankly held out his hand, saying,

"I'm glad Murray and I were on hand to help. They're too nice to be killed. Glad to see them both well."

Mother Dolores was looking on, and was deeply scandalized by the terrible boldness of Ni-ha-be, for that young lady actually took the hand Steve held out, and shook it, for all the world as if she had been a brave.

Such a thing was unheard of, and what made it worse was the fact that Rita instantly followed her example.

Red Wolf hardly knew what to say, but he was pretty well used to seeing Ni-ha-be have her own way. He was pleased that they had stopped short of so grave an offense as speaking.

"Rita will go. She will bring the talking leaves by-and-by. Red Wolf has a question to ask of his brother. Ni-ha-be go too."

Steve would have been glad to make a longer "call" upon the daughters of the great chief, but they quietly walked away, as became them, not even laughing until they were at some distance.

Then it was Ni-ha-be who laughed, for Rita was thinking about the talking leaves, and wishing with all her heart that she could manage to ask some questions of her own concerning them.

"If he could not answer me, I am sure Send Warning could. He is old and he is wise, and I know he is good."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE BOY COMMANDER OF THE CAMISARDS.

BY GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON.

When Louis XIV. was King of France, that country was Catholic, as it is still, but in the mountainous region called the Cevennes more than half the people were Protestants. At first the King consented that these Protestant people should live in quiet, and worship as they pleased; but in those days men were not tolerant in matters of religion, as they are now, and so after a while King Louis made up his mind that he would compel all his people to believe alike. The Protestants of the Cevennes were required to become Catholics. When they refused, soldiers were sent to compel them, and great cruelties were practiced.

When this persecution had lasted for nearly thirty years, a body of young men who were gathered together in the High Cevennes resolved to defend themselves by force.

Among these young men was one, a mere boy, named Jean Cavalier. This boy, without knowing it, had military genius of a very high order, and when it became evident that he and his comrades could not long hold out against the large bodies of regular troops sent against them, he suggested a plan which in the end proved to be so good that for years the poor peasants were able to maintain war against all the armies that King Louis could send.

Cavalier's plan was to make uprisings in several places at once, so that the King's officers could not tell in which way to turn. As he and his comrades knew the country well, and had friends to tell them of the enemy's movements, they could nearly always know when it was safe to attack, and when they must hide in the woods.

One Sunday, Cavalier, who was a preacher as well as a soldier, held services in his camp in the woods, and all the Protestant peasants in the neighborhood attended. The Governor of Alais, whose name was De la Hay, thought this a good opportunity not only to defeat Cavalier's small force, but also to catch the Protestant women and children in the act of attending a Protestant service, the punishment for which was death. He collected a force of about six hundred men and marched toward the wood, where he knew he should outnumber the peasants three or four to one. He had a mule loaded with ropes, declaring that he was going to hang all of the rebels at once.

When news of their coming was brought to the peasants, they sent away all the women and children, and began to discuss the situation. They had no commander, for although Cavalier had led them generally, he had no authority to do so. On this occasion many thought it best to retreat at once, as there were less than two hundred of them; but Cavalier declared that if they would follow him, he would lead them to a place where victory might be won. They consented, and he advanced to a point on the road where he could shelter his men. Quickly disposing them in line of battle behind some defenses, he awaited the coming of the enemy.

De la Hay, being overconfident because of his superior numbers, blundered at the outset. Instead of attacking first with his infantry, he placed his horsemen in front, and ordered an assault. Cavalier was quick to take advantage of this blunder. He ordered only a few of his men to fire, and this drew a volley from the advancing horsemen, which did little damage to the sheltered troops, but emptied the horsemen's weapons. Instantly Cavalier ordered a charge and a volley, and the horsemen, with empty pistols, gave way. Cavalier pursued hotly, giving the enemy no time to rally. A re-enforcement coming up, tried to check Cavalier's charge, but so violent was the onset that these fresh troops gave way in their turn, and the chase ended only when the King's men had shut themselves up in the fortified towns.

When the battle was over it was decided unanimously to make Cavalier the commander. He refused, however, unless they would also give him power to enforce obedience, and his troops at once voted to make his authority absolute, even in questions of life and death. According to the best authorities, Cavalier was only seventeen years old when this absolute command was conferred upon him.

On one occasion Cavalier attacked a party of forty men who were marching through the country to re-enforce a distant post, and killed most of them. While searching the dead bodies, he found in the pocket of the commanding officer an order signed by Count Broglio, the King's Lieutenant, directing all military officers and town authorities to lodge and feed the party on their march. No sooner had the boy soldier read this paper than he resolved to turn it to his own advantage.

The castle of Servas, near Alais, had long been a source of trouble to Cavalier. It was a strong place, built upon a steep hill, and was so difficult of approach that it would have been madness to try to take it by force.

When he found the order referred to, he resolved to pretend that he was the commander of the detachment which he had just destroyed. Dressing himself in the dead officer's clothes, he ordered his men to put on the clothing of the other dead royalists. Then he took six of his best men, with their own Camisard uniforms on, and bound them with ropes, to represent prisoners. One of them had been wounded in the arm, and his bloody sleeve helped the stratagem. Putting these six men at the head of his troop, with a guard of their disguised comrades over them, he marched toward the castle. There he declared himself to be Count Broglio's lieutenant, and said that he had met a company of the Barbets, or Camisards, and had defeated them, taking six prisoners; that he was afraid to keep these prisoners in the village overnight lest their friends should rescue them; and that he wished to lodge them in the castle for safety. When the Governor of the castle heard this story, and saw the order of Count Broglio, he was completely imposed upon. He ordered the prisoners to be brought into the castle, and invited Cavalier to be his guest there for the night. Taking two of his officers with him, Cavalier went into the castle to sup with the Governor. During supper several of his soldiers, who were encamped just outside, went into the castle upon pretense of getting wine or bread, and at a signal from Cavalier they overpowered the sentinels, and threw the gates open. The rest of the troop rushed in at once, and before the garrison could seize their arms, the boy commander was master of the fortress.

Failing to overcome him by force or strategy, Cavalier's foes fell back upon the hope of starving him during the winter. But in indulging this hope they forgot that the crown and glory of his work in the field had been his wonderful fertility of resource. He knew quite as well as they did that he must live all winter in the woods, so he gave his whole mind to the question of how to do it.

He began during the harvest to make his preparations. He explored all the caves in the mountains, and selected the best ones for use as store-houses, taking care to have them in all parts of the mountains, so that if cut off from one he could draw upon another. In these caves he stored quantities of grain and other provisions, and whenever he needed meal, some of his men, who were millers, would carry grain to some lonely country mill and grind it.

To prevent this, the King's officers ordered that all the country mills should be rendered unfit for use, but before this could be done, Cavalier directed some of his men, who were skilled machinists, to disable two or three of the mills by carrying away the important parts of their machinery and storing them in his caves. Then, when he wanted meal, his machinists had only to replace the machinery in some disabled mill, and remove it again after his millers had done the necessary grinding. His bakers made use of farmers' ovens to bake bread in, and when the King's soldiers, hearing of this, destroyed the ovens, Cavalier sent his masons--for he had all sorts of craftsmen in his ranks--to rebuild them.

Having two powder-makers with him, he collected salt-petre, burned willow twigs for charcoal, and made all the powder he needed, in his caves. For bullets he melted down the leaden weights of windows, and when this source of supply failed, he melted down pewter vessels and used pewter bullets--a fact which gave rise to the belief that he used poisoned balls. Finally, in a dyer's establishment, he had the good luck to find two great leaden kettles, weighing more than seven hundred quintals, which, he says, "I caused immediately to be carried into the magazines with as much diligence and care as if they had been silver."

Chiefly by Cavalier's energy and military skill, the war was kept up against fearful odds for years, and finally the young soldier succeeded in making a treaty of peace in which perfect liberty of conscience and worship--which was all they had been fighting for--was guaranteed to the Protestants of the Cevennes. His friends rejected this treaty, however, and Cavalier soon afterward went to Holland, where he was given command of a regiment in the English service. His career in arms was a brilliant one--so brilliant that the British made him a General, and Governor of the island of Jersey; but he nowhere showed greater genius or manifested higher soldierly qualities than during the time when he was the Boy Commander of the Camisards.

BIRDS' NESTS FOR SOUP.

BY RALPH WATSON.

One pleasant morning in the early part of last April I had just landed in Macao. Having no idea that I was acquainted with any person in Asia, you can imagine that I was not a little surprised to hear an exultant shout burst forth behind me, and the familiar old college cry. "Rah! rah! rah! Y--a--l--e! 26 South College, or there is no faith in the blue! Well, Well, if this isn't glorious!"

With the first sound a hand came down vigorously on my shoulder, swinging me around in a way that reminded me of past experiences, and lo! Jack Merriman had hold of me in earnest.

"What a splendid fellow you have grown to be, Tom!--six feet, if you are an inch. Look at me--five feet six; never could amount to anything, you know."

"But how come you here, Jack? What are you doing?"

"In tea, my boy, in tea. And not a bad thing, now, tea is, when you take it in the right way. But for yourself--whence and whither bound?"

"From London last, by Suez, Bombay, and Calcutta; to Canton to-morrow, and then up the coast."

"Very good; then we will make the most of our time to-day. Here we are at my office, and this is, of course, your head-quarters. Three o'clock now. I'll just send around and tell old Man Lok to be ready for us, for I am going to give you something you never had--a regular Chinese dinner. The old fellow has some of the best nests I have seen in months, and you shall have trial of the same. Would you like a few fins too, or perhaps a pacu-qui? But I forget; you are not yet up in our style of rations. Never mind; I will show you what we can do."

The rest of the afternoon Jack and I talked about old times. Then we repaired to the restaurant, which he told me was noted for the excellence of Chinese dishes served up in their own peculiar style.

"Up to the chopsticks, Tom? I suppose not, and we must make allowance for you. Man Lok has doubtless provided, for I told him you were a poor Mellican man who did not know much yet. He will have a knife and fork for you."

On the table at my place were a knife and fork, as Jack had promised; at his were the chopsticks, the use of which was a mystery to me then, though subsequently I became expert in managing them. The dinner was a most elaborate one, course succeeding course in great number and variety, all very elegantly served. Many of them were such articles of food as I had never seen, and as to the nature of some I could not even hazard a guess. But I will not describe them at present, excepting a single one.

This was a soup, which made its appearance at, I think, the fifth course. It was rather thick, and having a decidedly gelatinous look and feeling, it might almost have been called a diluted jelly rather than a soup. It was served very hot, and the flavor was excellent. With it were brought small dishes of very peculiar preserves, which I thought the most delicious things in their way that I had ever tasted. Jack said nothing until some little progress had been made with the soup.

"How do you like it, my boy? A twang of Asia clear through, is not there? Recalls all your memories of Lalla Rookh and Sindbad the Sailor, and those other worthies of ancient history, eh?"

"It is certainly delightful," said I; "unlike anything I ever tasted."

"I should think it might be. Precious little of it you ever see outside the Flowery Land. And what is more, there is not, as I believe, another man even in all China who can match old Man Lok in serving it. This is the famous bird's-nest soup, about as much a peculiarity and a glory of China as the Great Wall, and I was determined that you should make your acquaintance with it under the auspices of Man Lok, the great high-priest, the Soyer, of bird's nest."

"But what is it, Jack? What are you talking about? How can you eat grass, and sticks, and feathers, and leaves, to say nothing of mud? for those make up birds' nests in general. I must say I never heard of their being used for food."

"Well done, old fellow! Hurrah for Yale! Here is education for you!--a graduate of high standing who never even heard of bird's-nest soup. Why, Tom, you are all adrift, man. I learned more than that in the course of my college life, though I did graduate in the second term of Sophomore year. But I see how it was; classics, mathematics, and boating were all you studied, instead of taking to something useful."

"All right, Jack, I acknowledge your wisdom; only I wish it would enlighten my ignorance."

"So I will, Tom--so I will; but we will wait till evening, and do it at my lodgings, for I have some of the nests there, as well as the birds which build them, and you shall see for yourself. For the present we will do honor to Man Lok." Full honor was done to Man Lok, and evening found me in Jack's rooms.