CHAPTER XII.

THE REDSKINS.

We must now return to the Far West.

On the banks of the Rio Grande del Norte, about ten leagues' distance from the _presidio_ of San Lucar stood the _atepelt_, or temporary village, of Des Venados.

The _atepelt_, a simple camp, like most of the Indian villages, consisted of about a hundred _callis_, or huts, irregularly grouped near each other.

Each _calli_ was built of about a dozen stakes driven into the ground, four or five feet high at the sides, and six or seven in the centre, with an aperture towards the east, for the master of the _calli_ to throw water in the direction of the rising sun--a ceremony by which the Indians conjure the Wacondah to befriend their families during the course of the day just breaking.

These _callis_ were covered with bison hides sewn together, with a hole in the centre to admit the exit of the smoke of the fires kindled in the interior,--fires which equal in number the wives of the owner, each wife having a right to a fire of her own.

The hides which formed the outer walls were carefully dressed, and painted of divers colours; the painting, by its extravagance, enlivening the aspect of the _atepelt._

The lances of the fighting men were planted upright in the ground in front of the entrance to the _calli._ These light lances, made of flexible reed, sixteen or eighteen feet long, and armed at one end with a long grooved iron, forged by the Indians themselves, are the most redoubtable weapons of the Apaches.

The liveliest joy seemed to animate the _atepelt._ In some _callis_ the women were spinning the wool of their flocks with their spindles; in others they wove those _zarapés_, so renowned for their fineness and the perfection of the work, at looms of primitive simplicity.

The young people of the tribe, assembled in the centre of the _atepelt_,--a large open space,--were playing at _milt_ (an Indian word signifying "arrow") a singular game, to which the Indians are greatly addicted.

The players trace a large circle on the ground, into which they step, arranging themselves in two opposite rows. The leader of one row, holding a ball filled with air in the right hand, the leader of the other in the left, they throw their balls backwards with a motion which brings them in front again. The left leg is then lifted, the ball caught and hurled at the opposite player, whose body it must touch, under penalty of losing a point. A thousand extravagant contortions ensue on the part of the latter, in order to avoid the ball: he stoops, he rises, bends himself backwards or forwards, jumps up where he stands, or bounds to one side. If the ball quits the ring, the first player loses two points and runs after it; if, on the contrary, the second is struck, he must seize the ball and throw it back at his opponent, whom it must hit, or he loses a point. The next in order, at the opposite side of the ring, begins the game again; and so on, till the close of the sport.

One can understand what shouts of laughter arise from the grotesque attitudes into which the players fall as the game goes on.

Other Indians of riper age, were gravely playing with curious packs of cards, made of squares of hide, coarsely painted with figures of different animals.

In a _calli_ larger and better painted than the other huts of the _atepelt_--the dwelling of the _sachem_, or principal chief, whose lances, ornamented at the foot with pieces of skin-dyed red, were the distinguishing badge of power--three men, crouched round the embers of a fire, were, talking, heedless of the uproar without. They were the Tigercat, the Zopilote, and the _amantzin_, or the sorcerer of the tribe.

The Zopilote was a half-breed, who had taken refuge with the Apaches long ago, and been adopted by them. This man, every way worthy of the name he bore, was a wretch whose cold and malignant cruelty revolted the very Indians, who are themselves not delicate in matters of this kind. The Tigercat had made this ferocious miscreant, who was devoted to him, prime-minister of his vengeance, and the docile instrument of his will. His latest wife, to whom he had been married a year, had given birth to a boy that morning--hence the rejoicings of the Indians; and he had come to take the orders of the Tigercat--the great chief of the tribe--with respect to the ceremonies usual on the like occasions.

The Zopilote left the _calli_, to which he speedily returned, followed by his wives and all his friends, one of whom held the infant in his arms. The Tigercat, placing himself between the Zopilote and the _amantzin_ at the head of the party, led them towards the Rio Grande del Norte.

The procession halted on the bank of the river; the _amantzin_ took a little water in the hollow of his hand, and threw it into the air, muttering a prayer to _the Master of the life of men._ He next proceeded to _the great medicine;_ that is, the newborn child, wrapped in his woollen swaddling bands, was five times plunged into the waters of the river, while the _amantzin_ repeated, in a loud voice:

"Master of life, look upon this young warrior with favourable eye; remove from him all evil influences; protect him, Wacondah!"

At the termination of this part of the ceremony, the procession returned to the _atepelt_, and arranged itself in a circle in front of the Zopilote's _calli_, at the entrance of which lay a young mare on her back, with her four feet tied together. A new _zarapé_ was stretched under the belly of the animal, on which relations and friends deposited, one after the other, the gifts intended for the child--spurs, arms, and clothing. The Tigercat, out of friendship for the Zopilote, had consented to act as godfather to the infant. He placed it in the midst of the various gifts which filled the _zarapé_.

Then the Zopilote seized his scalping knife, opened at one slash the flanks of the mare, tore out the heart, and gave it, bleeding as it was, to the Tigercat, who made a cross with it on the forehead of the child, addressing him thus:

"Young warrior of the tribe of Apache-Bisons, be brave and cunning. I name thee _Mixcoatzin_--Cloud-Serpent."

The father took the child, and the chief, raising the bleeding heart above his head, shouted thrice:

"Long live the Cloud-Serpent!"

The cry was enthusiastically repeated by the bystanders. The _amantzin_ then commended the child to the Spirit of Evil, praying him to make the young warrior brave, eloquent, and cunning; terminating his prayer in these words, which found an ardent response in the hearts of all those fierce beings:

"Above all, may he never be a slave!"

Thus terminated the ceremony: every religious rite had been performed. The poor mare, the victim of this stupid superstition, was cut into pieces; a great fire was kindled; friends and relations took their seats at a feast, which was intended to last until nothing was left of the mare.

The Zopilote was about to seat himself, and feast with the others; but, at a sign from the Tigercat, he followed the great chief to his _calli_, where they once more took their seats by the fire. The _amantzin_ was also with them.

The Tigercat waved his band to his wives, who left the _calli_, and after a short meditation, spoke as follows:

"I trust my brothers, and my heart opens before them like a _chirimoya_" (a kind of American pear), "to show them my secret thoughts: I have sorrowed for many days."

"My father sorrows for his son Stoneheart," said the _amantzin._

"No; I care not where he is now; I can find him again when I want him. But I have a secret mission to confide to a safe man. Till this morning, I hesitated to open my heart to you."

"Let my father speak; his sons listen."

"To hesitate longer would be to compromise things sacred. You will to horse, Zopilote; I have no words for you: you know where I send you. Induce these men to aid our enterprise; it will be a notable service."

"I will do it. Do I go at once?"

"Without delay."

"In ten minutes I shall be far hence;" and, saluting the chiefs, he went out.

A few minutes later, the sound of a horse's hoofs fading away in the distance announced his departure.

Tigercat gave a sigh of satisfaction.

"Let my brother, the _amantzin_ open his ears," said he. "I am about to leave the _atepelt_, I hope to be back tonight; but my absence may be for two or three days. I leave my brother in my stead and place; he will command the warriors, and will forbid them to go far from the village, or approach the frontiers of the palefaces. It is important that the Gachupinos (Mexicans) should not learn that we are so near them; to do so would mar our plan. Does my brother understand?"

"The Tigercat has no forked tongue; the words breathed from his mouth are clear. His son understands."

"Good. I can go in peace: my brother will watch over the tribe."

"I will obey the orders of my father. If he is absent many suns, he will not have to reproach his son."

"Ugh! My son's words lift the skin that covered my heart and filled it with sorrow. The Master of Life watch over him! I go."

"Ugh! My brother is a sage warrior. The Wacondah will protect him on his road; he will succeed."

The two men gravely saluted each other. The _amantzin_ remained by the fire; the chief departed.

It is probable that, if the old _sachem_ had remarked the expression of knavish hate on the face of the sorcerer at the moment they parted, he would not have quitted the village.

As the Tigercat threw himself into the saddle with a lightness hardly to be expected at his years, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and night enveloped the prairie.

The old man, without seeming to care for the darkness, pressed his horse with his knees, gave him his head, and galloped off.

The sorcerer, with bent person and head stretched forward, listened anxiously to the lessening sound of the chief's rapid course. When all was still again, he raised himself erect, a smile of triumph played across his thin and livid lips, and he uttered triumphantly the words, "At last!"--a summary of the thoughts secreted in his heart.

Then he arose, left the _calli_, seated himself a few paces from it, crossed his arms over his chest, and chanted, in a deep bass and a mournful and monotonous rhythm, the Apache lament, beginning with the following verse, which we reproduce as a specimen of the language of this barbarous people:

"El mebin ni tlacaelantey Tuz apan Pilco payentzin Ancu maguida coaltzin Ay guinchey ni polio menchey."

[I have lost my _tlacaelantey_ in the country of Pilco. Oh, murderous knives, which have changed him into shades and flies!]

As the sorcerer went on with his song, his voice became by degrees louder and more confident. In a short time, warriors, wrapped in their bison robes, issued from several of the huts, and, with furtive steps, approached the sorcerer, and entered the _calli._ At the close of the lament, the sorcerer rose, ascertained that no other person was coming towards him, that no laggard was loitering at his call, and in his turn entered the _calli_, to join those whom he had convoked thus singularly.

There were twenty men in all; they stood silent and motionless, like bronze statues, round the fire, whose flames, revived by the draught caused by their entrance, threw sinister shadows over their stern and determined features. The _amantzin_ placed himself in the midst, and said:

"Let my brothers sit at the council fire."

The warriors squatted down in a circle.

The sorcerer then took from the hands of the _hachesto_, or public crier, the great calumet, the bowl of which was of red clay, and the tube six feet long, of aloes wood, garnished with feathers and hawks' bells. He filled it with a washed tobacco, called _morriche_, which is never used except upon great occasions, lighted it with a medicine stick, and having drawn a long breath of more than a minute, and discharged the smoke through mouth and nose, presented the calumet to the warrior on his right. The latter followed his example; and the calumet passed thus from hand to hand, till it returned to the _amantzin._

The latter shook the ashes into the fire, muttering, in a low voice, a few unintelligible words; after which, be restored the calumet to the _hachesto_, who went out to watch, in order to ensure secrecy to the deliberations of the council.

There was a long silence; the profoundest calm brooded over the village; no sound disturbed the tranquillity of the _atepelt;_ and one might have thought oneself a hundred leagues from a human dwelling.

At length the _amantzin_ rose, cast a searching look over the assembly, and spoke.

"Let my brothers open their ears," he said in measured tones. "The spirit of the Master of Life has entered into my body; it is he who dictates the words which spring from my lips. Chiefs of the Bison-Apaches! The spirit of your ancestors has ceased to animate your souls. You are no longer the terrible warriors, who declared war, without truce or mercy, against the palefaces--those cowards, and hateful despoilers of your hunting grounds; you are only antelopes, who fly with faltering feet from the distant sound of an _erupha_ (gun) of the palefaces; you are old women, to whom the _Yorris_ (Spanish) give their petticoats; your blood no longer runs bright in your veins, and a skin stretches over your heart and covers it completely. You, formerly so brave and terrible, have made yourselves the coward slaves of a dog of a paleface, who chases you like frightened rabbits, and holds you trembling under his eye. Thus speaks the Master of Life. What do you answer, warriors of the Apaches?"

He ceased, and waited for one of the chiefs to take up the word. During this insulting speech, a tremor of indignation agitated the Indians; it was only by great efforts they obtained the mastery over their passion. But when the _amantzin_ ceased, a chief rose.

"Is the sorcerer of the Apaches-Bisons mad," said he in a voice of thunder, "that he should speak thus to the chiefs of his nation? He who counts the foxes' tails attached to our heels will see if we are women, and if the courage of our ancestors is dead in our hearts. What if the Tigercat is a paleface?--His heart is Apache. The Tigercat is wise; he has seen many things; the counsels he gives are good."

The _amantzin_ smiled with disdain.

"My brother the White-Eagle speaks well; it is not for me to answer him."

He struck his hands thrice. A warrior appeared.

"Let my brother," said the _amantzin_ to him, "tell the council the mission with which he was charged by the Tigercat."

The redskin advanced to the circle, and bowed low before the chiefs, who were all gazing at him.

"The Tigercat," spoke a deep and mournful voice, "had ordered the Black-Falcon to form an ambush with twenty warriors on the path of the palefaces, whom Stoneheart pretended to guide to their big stone huts. The Black-Falcon followed the palefaces a long time in the prairie. Their trail was clear; they had no arms; nothing seemed more easy than to seize them. An hour before the time fixed for the attack, Stoneheart appeared alone in the camp of the warriors. The Black-Falcon received him with the signs of friendship and praise, because he had abandoned the _Yorris._ But Stoneheart replied, that Tigercat forbade the attack on the palefaces, and, throwing himself on the Black-Falcon, thrust the knife into his heart; while the _Yorris_, who had stolen upon the camp, surprised the warriors, and massacred them with _eruphas_ given by Tigercat himself. This treachery was done to put Black-Falcon out of his path, whose fame he envied. Twenty warriors followed the war path; six returned with me to the _atepelt:_ the others have been slain by the Tigercat. I have said."

This astonishing revelation created a stern silence of amazement and rage. It was the calm that harbours the tempest. The chiefs looked from one to the other with eyes of wrath.

Of all races, the redskins are the most remarkable for the rapidity with which their moods change, and are most easily led away by feelings of rage. The _amantzin_ was aware of this; therefore he was sure of his triumph, after the terrible impression made by the recital of the warrior.

"Ugh!" said he, "What do my brothers think now of the counsels of the Tigercat? Does the White-Eagle still think he has the heart of an Apache? Who will avenge the death of the Black-Falcon?"

Most of the chiefs rose at once, brandishing their scalping knives.

"The Tigercat is a thieving dog, and a coward!" they shouted. "The Apache warriors will tie his scalp to their girdles."

Only two or three of the _sachems_ attempted to protest; they knew the _amantzin's_ inveterate and long-standing hatred of Tigercat; they knew the knavish character of the sorcerer; and suspected that, in this affair, the truth had been disguised and garbled in order to serve the vengeance of the man who had vowed the death of a foe whom he would never dare to face openly.

But the voices of these chiefs were soon stifled by the clamorous ire of the other Indians. Renouncing, for the present, a useless discussion, they withdrew from the circle, and grouped themselves in a corner of the _calli_, resolved to remain the impassive, if not indifferent, witnesses of the resolutions to be taken by the council.

The Indians are grown-up children, who lash themselves into fury with the sound of their own words and, when excited by their passions, forget all prudence and moderation.

However, in the present case, although they felt the fiercest desire to avenge themselves on the Tigercat,--whom at this moment they hated so much the more because they had loved and respected him so highly,--although the most violent measures were proposed against him, still it was not without some degree of hesitation that they proceeded to act against their aged chief. The reason was simple enough: these primitive beings recognised only one kind of superiority,--that of brute strength; and the Tigercat, in spite of his great age, enjoyed among them a reputation for strength and courage, too well established for them not to look forward with a certain degree of fear to the consequences of the action they meditated.

The _amantzin_ tried in vain, by all the means in his power, to convince them how easy it would be to seize Tigercat on his return to the village. The sorcerer's project was excellent; if the chiefs chose to avail themselves of it, it would be impossible to fail. The plan was this: the Apaches were to feign ignorance of the death of the Black-Falcon; they were to receive him on his return with the greatest protestations of joy, in order to lull the suspicions he might entertain, and seize him while he slept; they were to bind him securely, and tie him to the torture stake. One sees that the plan was extremely simple; but the Apaches would not listen to it, so great was the dread they felt for their foe.

Finally, after a discussion which lasted the greater part of the night, it was definitely settled that the tribe should strike their camp, and bury themselves in the desert, without troubling themselves with any further thought of their old leader.

But just at that moment the dissentient chiefs who, up to that time, had taken no part in what was going on, left the corner of the _calli_ to which they had retired, and one of them, called Fire-Eye, taking up the word in the name of his companions, observed that those of the _sachems_ who wished to depart might do so, but could not impose their will on others; that the tribe had no great chief legally chosen; that each was at liberty to act as he pleased; and that, as for themselves, they were resolved not to repay with black ingratitude the eminent services the Tigercat had rendered the tribe for many years past; and they would not quit the village before his return.

This determination gave great anxiety to the _amantzin_, who vainly sought to overcome it: the chiefs would listen to nothing, and adhered firmly to their determination.

At sunrise, by order of the sorcerer, who already acted from that time forward as if he was the recognised grand chief of the tribe, the _hachesto_ summoned the warriors to the open space of the village, by the ark of the first man, and orders were given to the women to pull down the _callis_, and harness and load the dogs, that they might depart as soon as possible. The order was promptly executed; the pickets were drawn, the bison hides folded, household utensils carefully packed, and placed on sledges, to be drawn by the dogs.

But the dissentient chiefs had not been idle on their side: they had managed to win over to their opinion several renowned warriors of the people, so that only about three-quarters of the tribe prepared to emigrate, while the other quarter remained stoical spectators of the arrangements for travel which were going on before them.

At last the _hachesto_, at the order of the _amantzin_, gave the signal to march.

Then a long line of sledges drawn by dogs, and of women laden with children, quitted the village, escorted by a numerous band of warriors, and was soon winding its way, like a great serpent, through the prairie.

When their brothers had disappeared in the depths of the wilderness, the warriors who had remained faithful to the Tigercat assembled to deliberate on the measures to be taken until his return.