Youth is naturally confiding; when a great grief oppresses it, the need of entrusting that grief to a person who seems to sympathise with it, renders it expansive. Alone among the bandits, to whom chance had handed her over, Dona Clara must inevitably--so soon as the first paroxysm of suffering had pa.s.sed--seek for someone to console her, and help her in enduring the immense misfortune that crushed her.

And this had occurred much more rapidly than under ordinary circ.u.mstances, thanks to the sympathising kindness of the young American, who had in a few hours found the way to her heart.

Red Cedar, whom nothing escaped, smiled cunningly at the friendship of the two maidens, which, however, he feigned not to perceive. It was a strange thing, but this scalp hunter, this man that seemed to have nothing human about him, who perspired crime at every pore, whose ferocity was unbounded, had in his heart one feeling which attached him victoriously to the human family, a profound, illimitable love for Ellen--the love of the tiger for its cubs.

This frail girl was the sole creature for whom his heart beat more violently. How great, how powerful was the love Red Cedar experienced for this simple child! It was a worship, an adoration. A word from her little mouth caused the ferocious bandit to feel indescribable delight; a smile from her rosy lips overwhelmed him with happiness. By her charming caresses, her gentle and insinuating words, Ellen had power to govern despotically that gathering of birds of prey which was her family. The chaste kiss his daughter gave him every morning, was the sunbeam that for the whole day warmed the heart of the terrible bandit, before whom everybody trembled, and who himself trembled at a slight frown from her, who combined all the joy and happiness of his life.

It was with extreme satisfaction that he saw his daughter become his innocent accomplice by acquiring the confidence of his prisoner, and gaining her friendship. This gentle girl was in his sight the securest gaoler he could give Dona Clara. Hence, in order, to facilitate, as far as possible, all that could enhance the friendship, he had completely closed his eyes, and feigned to be ignorant of the approximation between the two girls.

It was Ellen who had listened to the conversation between the monk and the Gambusino. At the moment she was re-entering the hut, the stifled sound of voices induced her to listen. Dona Clara was speaking in a low voice to a man, and that man was the Sachem of the Coras. Ellen, surprised in the highest degree, listened anxiously to their conversation, which soon greatly interested her.

After leaving the two Mexicans, Eagle-wing had, for some minutes, walked about the camp with an affected carelessness, intended to remove the suspicions of any who might have been tempted to watch his movements.

When he fancied he had dispelled any suspicions, the Indian chief insensibly drew nearer to the cabin, which served as a refuge to the maidens, and entered it, after a.s.suring himself by a glance, that no one was watching.

Dona Clara was alone, at this moment. We have told the reader where Ellen was; as for the squatter's wife, faithful to her husband's instructions not to annoy the prisoner in any way, she was quietly asleep by the fire, in the clearing.

The maiden, with her head bowed on her bosom, was plunged in deep and sad thought. At the sound of the Indian's steps, she raised her head, and could not restrain a start of terror on seeing him.

Eagle-wing immediately perceived the impression he produced on her, he stopped on the threshold of the cabin, folded his arms on his chest, and bowed respectfully.

"My sister need not be alarmed," he said in a gentle and insinuating voice, "it is a friend who is speaking to her."

"A friend!" Dona Clara murmured, as she took a side glance at him; "the unfortunate have no friends."

The Indian drew a few steps nearer to her, and went on, as he bent over her:

"The jaguar has been forced to put on the skin of the crafty serpent, in order to introduce himself among his enemies, and gain their confidence.

Does not my sister recognise me?"

The Mexican girl reflected for a moment, and then answered with hesitation, and looking at him attentively:

"Although the sound of your voice is not unfamiliar to me, I seek in vain to remember where, and under what circ.u.mstances I have already seen you."

"I will help my sister to remember," Eagle-wing continued. "Two days ago, at the pa.s.sage of the ford, I tried to save her, and was on the point of succeeding, but before that my sister had seen me several times."

"If you will mention a date and a circ.u.mstance, I may possibly succeed in remembering."

"My sister need not seek, it will be useless; I prefer telling her my name at once, for moments are precious. I am Moukapec, the great Chief of the Coras, of the Del Norte. My sister's father and my sister herself often helped the poor Indians of my tribe."

"That is true," the maiden said, sadly. "Oh! I remember now. Poor people! They were pitilessly ma.s.sacred, and their village fired by the Apaches. Oh! I know that horrible story."

A sardonic smile played round the chief's lips at these words.

"Coyote does not eat coyote," he said, in a hollow voice; "the jaguars do not wage war on jaguars. They were not Indians who a.s.sa.s.sinated the Coras, but scalp hunters."

"Oh!" she said, in horror.

"Let my sister listen," the Coras continued quickly; "now that I have told her my name, she must place confidence in me."

"Yes," she answered, eagerly, "for I know the n.o.bility of your character."

"Thanks! I am here for my sister's sake alone. I have sworn to save her, and restore her to her father."

"Alas!" she murmured sadly, "that is impossible. You are alone, and we are surrounded by enemies. The bandits who guard us are a hundredfold more cruel than the ferocious beasts of the desert."

"I do not know yet in what way I shall set about saving my sister," the chief said, firmly; "but I shall succeed if she is willing."

"Oh!" she exclaimed with febrile energy, "If I am willing! Whatever requires to be done, I will do without hesitation. My courage will not fail me, be a.s.sured of that, chief."

"Good!" the Indian said with joy; "My sister is truly a daughter of the Mexican kings. I count on her when the moment arrives. Red Cedar is absent for a few days; I will go and prepare everything for my sister's flight."

"Go, chief; at the first sign from you I shall be ready to follow you."

"Good! I retire; my sister can take courage, she will soon be free."

The Indian bowed to the maiden, and prepared to leave the hut. Suddenly, a hand was laid on his shoulder. At this unexpected touch, in spite of his self-command, the chief could not repress a start of terror. He turned, and Red Cedar's daughter stood before him, with a smile on her lips. "I have heard all," she said in her pure and melodious voice.

The chief bent a long and sad look on Dona Clara.

"Why this emotion," Ellen continued, "which I read on your features? I do not mean to betray you, for I am a friend of Dona Clara. Rea.s.sure yourself; if accident has made me mistress of your secret, I will not abuse it--on the contrary, I will help your flight."

"Can it be so? You would do that?" Dona Clara exclaimed, as she threw her arms round her neck, and buried her face in her bosom.

"Why not?" she simply answered; "You are my friend."

"Oh! Oh! I love you, for you are good. You had pity on my grief, and wept with me." Eagle-wing fixed on the maiden a glance of undefinable meaning.

"Listen," Ellen said; "I will supply you with the means you lack. We'll leave the camp this very night."

"We?" Dona Clara asked; "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Ellen continued, quickly, "that I shall go with you."

"Can it be possible?"

"Yes," she said, in a melancholy voice; "I cannot remain here longer."

On hearing these words, the Coras Chief quivered with joy; a sinister ray flashed from his dark eyes; but he immediately resumed his stoical appearance, and the maidens did not notice his emotion.

"But what shall we do to procure means of flight?"

"That is my affair, so do not trouble yourself about it. This very night, I repeat, we shall start."

"May Heaven grant it!" Dona Clara sighed.

Ellen turned to the chief and said:

"Does my brother know, at a short distance from the spot where we now are, any Indian pueblo where we can seek shelter?"