"People attempted in vain to prevent the duel; but neither the stranger nor myself would listen to it. At length they consented to give us the weapons we asked for; and then, moreover, this strange combat in the flower-adorned room, on the table covered with gold, among lovely young women, whose freshness and beauty the lights heightened, had something fatal about it which inflamed the imagination. The two heroes of Arispe, the men who had for so long a time formed the sole topic of conversation, had at length decided to settle which should definitely hold the palm.

"I leaped on the table, and my opponent at once followed my example. I enjoyed the reputation of being a fine swordsman, and yet, at the second pa.s.s, I fell with my chest pierced through and through. For three months I hovered between life and death, and when my youth and powerful const.i.tution at length triumphed over my horrible wound, and I was approaching convalescence, I inquired about my adversary. On the day after our duel, this man had married Dona Isabel; a week later, both disappeared, and no one could tell me in what direction they had gone.

"I had only one object, one desire--to revenge myself on Don Pacheco.

So soon as I was sufficiently recovered to leave the house, I sold the little left me, and quitted Arispe in my turn, followed by my friends, who were as poor as myself, for the blow that had struck me had struck them too, and, like myself, they only desired revenge on Don Pacheco.

For a long time our researches were vain, and many years elapsed ere I grew weary of seeking their trail. There were only two of us now to do it, for the third had left us.

"What had become of him? I do not know, but one day, by chance, at an American frontier village where I had gone to sell my peltry, Satan brought me face to face with this friend, whom I never expected to meet again. He wore a monk's gown, and so soon as he perceived me, walked up to me. The first words he addressed to me after our lengthened separation were:

"'I have found them again.'

"I understood without it being necessary for him to make any further explanation, for my hatred had taken such deep root in my heart. What more shall I tell you, Nina?" he added, with an effort, while a fearful smile crisped his blue lips. "I took my revenge. Oh! This vengeance was long in coming, but it was terrible!... Our foe had become one of the richest hacenderos in Texas; he lived happily with his wife and children, respected and loved by all who surrounded him. I bought a farm near his, and then, on the watch, like a jaguar with its prey, I followed his every movement, and introduced myself into his house. So lengthened a period had elapsed since our last meeting, that he did not recognise me, although a foreboding seemed from the outset to warn him that I was his enemy.

"One night, at the head of a band of pirates and Apaches, my two friends and myself, after a.s.suring ourselves that all were quietly sleeping in Don Pacheco's hacienda, glided like serpents through the darkness; the walls were escaladed, and our vengeance began. The hacienda was given up to the flames; Don Pacheco and his wife, surprised in their sleep, were pitilessly ma.s.sacred, after undergoing atrocious tortures. I tore both yourself and your sister from the arms of your dying mother, who sobbed at our feet, imploring me to spare you in memory of my old love for her.

"I swore it, and kept my promise. I do not know what became of your sister; I did not even trouble myself about her. As for you, Nina, have you had ever any cause to reproach me?"

The girl had listened to this fearful revelation with frowning eyebrows and livid cheeks. When the bandit stopped, she said harshly:

"Then you are the murderer of my father and mother?"

"Yes," he replied, "but not alone; there were three of us, and we took our revenge."

"Wretch!" she burst forth; "Vile a.s.sa.s.sin!"

The girl uttered these words with such an implacable accent, that the bandit shuddered.

"Ah!" he said, "I recognise the lioness. You are truly my enemy's daughter. Courage, child, courage. a.s.sa.s.sinate me in your turn. What restrains you? Rob me of the short span of life still left me, but make haste, or Heaven will prevent your vengeance."

And he fixed on her his eye, which was still proud, but already clouded by the hand of death. The girl gave no answer.

"You prefer seeing me die; well, receive this last present," he said, plucking from his bosom a bag, suspended from a steel chain; "in it you will find two letters, one from your father, the other from your mother; you will learn who you are, and what name you should bear in the world, for the one I mentioned is false; I wished to deceive you to the end.

That name is my last vengeance.... Nina, you will remember me."

The girl bounded on to the bag and seized it.

"Now, good-bye," the Pirate said; "my work is accomplished on this earth."

And seizing the pistol Red Cedar had left him, he blew out his brains, fixing on the girl a glance of strange meaning. But she did not seem to notice this tragical end, for she was tearing the bag with her teeth.

When she succeeded in opening it, she unfolded the papers it contained, and hurriedly perused them. Suddenly she uttered a shriek of despair, and fell back, clutching the letters in her hand.

The Indians and pirates ran up to help her, but, quicker than lightning, a horseman darted from the chaparral, reaching the girl without checking the speed of his horse; he bent down, raised her up in his powerful arms, threw her across his saddle-bow, and pa.s.sed like a tornado through the astounded spectators.

"We shall meet again soon, Red Cedar," he said in a loud voice, as he pa.s.sed the squatter.

Before the latter and his comrades could recover from their surprise, the horseman had disappeared in the distance in a cloud of dust.

The horseman was Bloodson!

Red Cedar shook his head sadly.

"Can what the priests say be true?" he muttered; "Is there really a Providence?"

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

THE RIVALS.

After the tragic execution of the Pirate, the hunters slowly continued their journey. The scenes we have described in previous chapters had spread over them a gloom which nothing could dissipate. Since his daughter's disappearance, Don Miguel Zarate, who had been suddenly hurled from the height of his hopes, maintained a gloomy and stern silence. This man, so strong and energetic, at length conquered by misfortune, marched silently by the side of his comrades, who respected his grief, and offered him those little attentions to which suffering minds are so sensitive.

Valentine and General Ibanez were holding an animated conversation, the two Indians, Curumilla and Moukapec, going in front and serving as guides. Don Pablo and Ellen rode side by side; they alone of the small party seemed happy, and a smile now and then played over their faces.

Alone of the little band the two young people had the faculty of forgetting past sufferings through the present joy.

During Sandoval's execution Ellen had been kept aloof, hence she was ignorant of what had occurred; and nothing happened to dull the pleasure she experienced at seeing herself reunited to the man to whom she had mentally given her heart.

One of the privileges of love is forgetting; the two young people, absorbed in their pa.s.sion, remembered nothing, but the happiness of meeting again. The word "love" had not been uttered; still, it was so fully reflected in their glances and smiles, that they understood each other perfectly.

Ellen was describing to Don Pablo how Dona Clara and herself escaped from Red Cedar's camp, protected by the two Canadian hunters.

"Ah!" Don Pablo said, "talking of those hunters, what has become of them?"

"Alas!" Ellen replied, "One of them was killed by the Apaches, and the other--"

"Well and the other?"

"There he is," she said; "oh, he is devoted to me body and soul."

Don Pablo turned round with an angry movement, and a dull jealousy was inflamed in him. He looked at the hunter who rode a few paces in the rear, but at the sight of this open, honest face, over which a tinge of melancholy was spread, the young man seriously upbraided himself for his apprehensions. He quickly went up to the hunter, while Ellen regarded them with a smile; when he was at the Canadian's side, he offered him his hand.

"Thanks," he said to him simply, "for what you did for her."

Harry pressed the hand, and answered sadly but n.o.bly: "I did my duty; I swore to defend her and die for her: when the hour arrives, I will keep my oath."

Don Pablo smiled gracefully,

"Why do you not ride by our side?"

"No," Harry answered with a sigh, as he shook his head; "I ought not, and do not wish to be the third in your conversation. You love each other, and be happy. It is my duty to watch over your happiness; leave me in my place and remain in yours."

Don Pablo thought for a moment over these words, then pressed the hunter's hand a second time.

"You have a n.o.ble heart," he said to him; "I understand you;" and he rejoined his companion. A smile played round the hunter's pallid lips.

"Yes," he muttered so soon as he was alone; "yes, I love her. Poor Ellen! She will be happy, and if so, what matter what becomes of me?"