Under the keen edge of a bowie, my moustaches came off in a twinkling: a little grease was procured; the paints were mixed; and placing myself side by side with the Indian, I stood for _his_ portrait. Rube was the painter--a piece of soft buckskin his brush--the broad palm of Garey his palette.

The operation did not last a great while. In twenty minutes it was all over; and the Indian brave and I appeared the exact counterparts of each other. Streak by streak, and spot by spot, had the old trapper imitated those hideous hieroglyphics--even to the red hand upon the breast, and the cross upon the brow. In horrid aspect, the copy quite equalled the original.

One thing was still lacking--an important element in the metamorphosis of disguise: I wanted the long snaky black tresses that adorned the head of the Comanche.

The want was soon supplied. Again the bowie blade was called upon to serve as scissors; and with Garey to perform the tonsorial feat, the _chevelure_ of the Indian was shorn of its flowing glories.

The savage winced as the keen blade glistened around his brow; he had no other thought than that he was about to be scalped alive!

"'Tain't the way I'd raise his har, the dodrotted skunk!" muttered Rube, as he stood watching the operation. "Fotch the hide along wi' it, Bill!

It 'll save bother--'ee'll hev to make a wig ef 'ee don't; skin 'im, durn 'im!"

Of course Garey did not give heed to this cruel counsel, which he knew was not meant for earnest.

A rude "scratch" was soon constructed, and being placed upon my head, was attached to my own waving locks. Fortunately, these were of dark colour, and the hue corresponded.

I fancied I saw the Indian smile when he perceived the use we were making of his splendid tresses. It was a grim smile, however; and from the first moment to the last, neither word nor ejaculation escaped from his lips.

Even I was forced to smile; I could not restrain myself. The odd travestie in which we were engaged--the strange commingling of the comic and serious in the act--and above all, the ludicrous look of the captive Indian, after they had close cropped him--was enough to make a stone smile. My comrades could not contain themselves, but laughed outright.

The plume-bonnet was now placed on my head. It was fortunate the brave had one--for this magnificent head-dress is rarely worn on a war-expedition; fortunate, for it aided materially in completing the counterfeit. With it upon my head, the false hair could hardly have been detected under the light of day.

There was no more to be done. The painter, hairdresser, and costumier, had performed their several offices--I was ready for the masquerade.

CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE.

THE LAST HOURS ON THE TRAIL.

More cautiously than ever, we now crept along the trail--advancing only after the ground had been thoroughly "quartered" by the scouts. Time was of the least consequence. The fresh sign of the Indians told us they were but a short way ahead of us: we believed we could have ridden within sight of them at any moment.

We did not wish to set eyes on them before sunset. It could be no advantage to us to overtake them on the march, but the contrary. Some lagging Indian might be found in the rear of the band; we might come in contact with him, and thus defeat all our designs.

We hung back, therefore--allowing sufficient time for the savages to pitch their camp, and for their stragglers to get into it.

On the other hand, I did not desire to arrive late. The council was to be held that night--so she had learned--and after the council would come the _crisis_. I must be in time for both.

At what hour would the council take place?

It might be just after they had halted. The son of a chief, and a chief himself--for the white renegade was a leader of red men--a question between two such men would not remain long undecided. And a question of so much importance--involving such consequence--property in body and soul--possession of the most beautiful woman in the world!

Oh! I wondered! Could these hideous, ochre-stained, grease-bedaubed brutes appreciate that peerless beauty? Impossible, I thought. The delicate lines of her loveliness would be lost upon their gross eyes and coarse sensual hearts. That pearl beyond price--paste would have satisfied them as well--they could not distinguish the diamond from common glass.

And yet the Comanche is not without love-craft. Coarse as might be the passion, no doubt they loved her--both loved her--red savage and white savage.

For this very reason, the "trial" would not be delayed; the question would be speedily decided--in order that the quarrel of the chiefs might be brought to an end. For this very reason, the crisis might be hastened, the council take place at an early hour; for this very reason, I too must needs be early upon the spot.

It was my aim to arrive within sight of the Indian encampment just before night--in the twilight, if possible--that we might be able to make reconnoissance of the ground before darkness should cover it from our view. We were desirous of acquainting ourselves with the lay of the surrounding country as well--so that, in the event of our escape, we should know which was the best direction to take.

We timed our advance by the sign upon the trail. The keen scouts could tell, almost to a minute, when the latest tracks were made; and by this we were guided. Both glided silently along, their eyes constantly and earnestly turned upon the ground.

Mine were more anxiously bent upon the sky; from that quarter I most feared an obstacle to the execution of my purpose. What a change had come over my desires!--how different were they from those of the two preceding nights! The very same aspect of the heavens that had hitherto chagrined and baffled me, would now have been welcome. In my heart, I had lately execrated the clouds; in that same heart, I was now praying for cloud, and storm, and darkness!

Now could I have blessed the clouds, but there were none to bless--not a speck appeared over the whole face of the firmament--the eye beheld only the illimitable ether.

In another hour, that boundless blue would be studded with millions of bright stars; and, silvered by the light of a resplendent moon, the night would be as day.

I was dismayed at the prospect. I prayed for cloud and storm, and darkness. Human heart! when blinded by its own petty passions, unreasoning and unreasonable; my petition was opposed to the unalterable laws of nature--it could not be heard.

I can scarcely describe how the aspect of that bright sky troubled and pained me. The night-bird, which joys only in deepest darkness, could not have liked it less. Should there be moonlight, the enterprise would be made more perilous--doubly more. Should there be moonlight--why need I form an hypothesis? Moonlight there _would_ be to a certainty. It was the middle of the lunar month, and the moon would be up almost as the sun went down--full, round, and almost as bright as he--with no cloud to cover her face, to shroud the earth from her white light.

Certainly there would be moonlight!

Well thought of was that disguise--well spent our labour in making it so perfect. Under the moonlight, to it only could I trust; by it only might I expect to preserve my incognito.

But the eye of the Indian savage is sharp, and his perception keen-- almost as instinct itself. I could not rely much upon my borrowed plumes, should speech be required from me. Just on account of the cunning imitation, the perfectness of the pattern, some friends of the original might have business with me--might approach and address me. I knew but a few words of Comanche--how should I escape from the colloquy?

Such thoughts were troubling me as we rode onward.

Night was near; the sun's lower limb rested on the far horizon of the west: the hour was an anxious one to me.

The scouts had been for some time in the advance, without returning to report: and we had halted in a copse to wait for them. A high hill was before us, wooded only at the summit; over this hill the war-trail led.

We had observed the scouts go into the timber. We kept our eyes upon the spot, waiting for their return.

Presently one of them appeared just outside the edge of the wood--Garey, we saw it was. He made signs to us to come on.

We rode up the hill, and entered among the trees. After going a little farther, we diverged from the trail. The scout guided us through the trunks over the high summit. On the other side, the wood extended only a little below; but we did not ride beyond it; we halted before coming to its edge, and dismounting, tied our horses to the trees.

We crept forward on our hands and knees till we had reached the utmost verge of the timber; through the leaves we peered, looking down into the plain beyond. We saw smokes and fires, and a skin-lodge in their midst; we saw dark forms around--men moving over the ground, and horses with their heads to the grass: we were looking upon the camp of the Comanches.

CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX.

THE COMANCHE CAMP.

We had reached our ground just at the moment I desired. It was twilight--dark enough to render ourselves inconspicuous under the additional shadow of the trees--yet sufficiently clear to allow a full reconnoissance of the enemy's position. Our point of view was a good one--under a single _coup-d'oeil_ commanding the encampment, and a vast extent of country around it. The hill we had climbed--a sort of isolated _butte_--was the only eminence of any considerable elevation for miles around; and the site of the camp was upon the plain that stretched away from its base--apparently beyond limit!

The plain was what is termed a "pecan" prairie--that is, a prairie half covered with groves, copses, and lists of woodland--in which the predominating tree is the pecan--a species of hickory (_carya olivaeformis_), bearing an oval, edible nut of commercial value.

Between the groves and _mottes_ of timber, single trees stood apart, their heads fully developed by the free play given to their branches.

These park-looking trees, with the coppice-like groves of the pecan, lent an air of high civilisation to the landscape; and a winding stream, whose water, under the still lingering rays, glistened with the sheen of silver, added to the deception. Withal, it was a wilderness--a beautiful wilderness. Human hands had never planted those groves--human agency had nought to do with the formation or adornment of that lovely landscape.

Upon the bank of the stream, and about half a mile from the base of the hill, stood the Indian camp. A glance at the position showed how well it had been chosen--not so much for defence, as to protect it against a surprise.

Assuming the lodge--there was but one--as the centre of the camp, it was placed upon the edge of a small grove, and fronting the stream. From the tent to the water's edge, the plain sloped gently downward, like the glacis of a fortification. The smooth sward, that covered the space between the trees and the water, was the ground of the camp. On this could be seen the dusky warriors, some afoot, standing in listless attitudes, or moving about; others reclining upon the grass, and still others bending over the fires, as if engaged in the preparation of their evening meal.

A line of spears, regularly placed, marked the allotment of each. The slender shafts, nearly five yards in length, rose tall above the turf-- like masts of distant ships--displaying their profusion of pennons and bannerets, of painted plumes and human hair. At the base of each could be seen the gaudy shield, the bow and quiver, the embroidered pouch and medicine-bag of the owner; and grouped around many of them appeared objects of a far different character--objects that we could not contemplate without acute emotion. They were women: enough of light still ruled the sky to show us their faces; they were white women--the captives.

Strange were my sensations as I regarded those forms and faces; but they were far off--even a lover's eye was unequal to the distance.