The waters had closed over the fugitives, sending up to heaven a cloud of spray, but the horses soon reappeared swimming vigorously toward the other bank. The Indians had halted on the hill, insulting by their yells and threats the victims who escaped by such a prodigy of daring. One of them, urged by his fury, and unable to pull up his horse in time, plunged into the Gila; but, having taken his precautions badly, the fall was mortal to the horse.

The Indian slipped off, and began striking out for the bank. Instead of continuing his flight, as he should have done, Eagle-wing, impelled by that spirit of bravado natural to the redskins, re-entered the river without hesitation, and, at the moment when the Apache warrior reappeared on the surface, he bent over, seized him by his long hair, and buried his knife in his throat. Then, turning to his enemies, who watched with a shudder this terrible drama, he drew up the wretch to his saddle-bow, scalped him, and brandishing this sanguinary trophy with an air of triumph, he uttered his war yell.

The Apaches poured a shower of bullets and arrows round the Coras Sachem, who, standing motionless in the middle of the river, still waved his horrible trophy. At length he turned his horse's head, and rejoined his companion, who was awaiting him timorously on the bank.

"Let us go," he said, as he fastened the scalp to his waist belt. "The Apaches are dogs, who can do nought but bark."

"Let us go," she replied, as she turned her head away in horror.

At the moment when they started again without troubling themselves about their enemies, who, scattered along the other bank, were eagerly seeking a ford, Eagle-wing perceived a cloud of dust, which, on dissipating, permitted him to see a party of hors.e.m.e.n galloping up at lightning speed.

"There is no hope left," he muttered.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SUCCOUR.

We will leave Eagle-wing and Dona Clara for a moment, and return to Bloodson's Teocali.

A few minutes before sunrise, Valentine awoke. "Up," he said to his companions, "it is the hour for starting."

Don Pablo and Shaw opened their eyes and got ready; but Curumilla was not there.

"Oh, oh," the hunter said; "the chief is up already, I fancy. Let us go down to the plain. We shall probably soon come across him."

The three men left the grotto, and began, by the uncertain rays of the moon, sliding down the abrupt sides of the Teocali, leaving their comrades asleep. A few minutes later, they reached the plain, where Curumilla was waiting for them, holding four horses by the bridle.

Valentine gave a start of surprise.

"We had agreed to go on foot, chief," he said. "Have you forgotten that?"

"No," the other replied, laconically.

"Then, why the deuce did you saddle these horses, which are useless to us?"

The Indian shook his head.

"We shall be better on horseback," he said.

"Still," Don Pablo observed, "I fancy that it's better to follow a trail on foot, as you said yourself yesterday, Don Valentine."

The latter reflected for an instant; then, turning to the young man, he answered him with a significant toss of the head:

"Curumilla is a prudent man. We have lived together for nearly fifteen years, and I have always found it best to follow his advice. Only once I wanted to have my own way, and then I all but lost my scalp. We will mount, Don Pablo. The chief has his reasons for acting as he is now doing, as the result will in all probability prove."

The hunters leaped into the saddle, and, after a farewell glance at the Teocali, where their friends were resting, they let their horses feel the spur.

"In what direction are we going?" Don Pablo asked.

"Let us first gain the riverbank," Valentine answered. "So soon as we have got there, we shall see what we have to do. But, mind we do not separate; for in the darkness it will be almost impossible to find each other."

On the prairies, the only roads that exist, and can be followed, are paths traced for ages by buffaloes, elks, and wild beasts. These paths form labyrinths; of which the Indians alone hold the thread; hunters, however well acquainted they may be with the prairies, only enter them with the utmost precautions. When they fancy they recognise a path, they will not leave it under any pretext, certain that if they Were so imprudent as to turn to the right or left, they would not fail to lose themselves, and have infinite difficulty in finding their road again.

Valentine was, perhaps, the only white hunter on the prairies who, owing to the profound knowledge he possessed of the desert, could enter this maze with impunity. However, as all the paths inevitably lead to the banks of rivers, and this direction was the one the little party was to follow, Valentine's remark was only intended to moderate Don Pablo's ardour, and compel him to march at his side.

After a hurried ride of two hours, the hunters at length found themselves on the banks of the Gila, which rolled its yellow and turbid waters along beneath them. At the moment when they reached the river, the sun rose majestically on the horizon in a mist of purpled clouds.

"Let us stop here a moment," Valentine said, "in order to form our plan of action."

"We do not need a long discussion for that." Don Pablo replied.

"You think so?"

"Hang it all, the only thing to be done, I fancy, is to follow Red Cedar's trail."

"True: but to follow it we must first find it."

"Granted: so let us look for it."

"That is what we are about to do."

At this moment furious yells were heard not far from them. The hunters, surprised, looked about them anxiously, and soon saw a band of Indians running in every direction along the river bank. These were not more than half a league distant.

"Oh, oh," Valentine said, "what's the meaning of this?"

"They are Apaches," Shaw remarked.

"I can see that," the Frenchman said. "But what the deuce is the matter with those devils? On my honour, they seem mad."

"Wah!" Curumilla suddenly exclaimed, who was also looking, though not speaking, as was his wont.

"What's, the matter now?" Valentine asked, as he turned to the chief.

"Look," the latter replied, as he stretched out his arm, "Dona Clara!"

"What, Dona Clara!" the hunter exclaimed, with a start of surprise.

"Yes," Curumilla observed, "my brother must look."

"It is, in truth, Dona Clara," Valentine said after a minute; "what on earth can she be doing here?"

And without caring for the Indians, who, on seeing him, would not fail to start in pursuit, he hurried at full gallop in the direction of the maiden. His comrades followed him; not caring for the width of the stream at this spot, they plunged in, resolved to reach the other bank, and fly to the help of the maiden, under a shower of arrows which the Indians fired at them, while uttering yells of rage at these new enemies, who rose as if by enchantment before them.

Eagle-wing and Dona Clara were still flying, unheeding the shouts of the hunters; the hors.e.m.e.n the Coras had perceived were Apache warriors returning to their village from a buffalo hunt. Although they were ignorant of what had happened, the sight of their friends galloping along the river bank, and the two riders escaping at full speed, revealed the truth to them, that is to say, that prisoners had escaped, and warriors of their tribe were in pursuit of them.

The river was soon crowded with Apache warriors, who crossed it to catch up with the fugitives. The pursuit was beginning to rea.s.sume alarming proportions for Eagle-wing and Dona Clara, in spite of the considerable advance they still had on their enemies.