The War Trail: The Hunt of the Wild Horse

Yes, there was my betrothed – within sight, within hearing, almost within reach of my hands; and I dared not touch, I dared not speak, I scarcely dared look upon her!

My fingers trembled among the leaves – my heart rose and fell – I could feel within my breast its strokes, rapid and irregular – I could hear its sonorous vibration.

It was not at the first glance that I saw Isolina. On looking through the leaves, the coup d’oeil was a scene that quite astonished me, and for a while occupied my attention. Since I had last gazed upon the great fire, the grouping around it had undergone an entire change; a new tableau was presented, that for the moment held me under a spell of surprise.

The fire no longer blazed, or only slightly, and when stirred; the logs had burned into coals, and now yielded a fainter light, but one more red and garish. It was steady, nevertheless, and the vastness of the pile rendered it strong enough to illumine the camp-ground to its utmost limits.

The fire was still encircled by savages, but no longer standing, nor grouped irregularly, as I had before observed them; on the contrary, they were seated, or rather squatted at equal distances from each other, and forming a ring that girdled the huge mound of embers.

There were about twenty of these men – I did not count them – but I observed that all were in their native costume – leggings, and breech-cloth to the waist – nothing above, save the armlets and shell-ornaments of nose, ears, and neck. All were profusely painted with chalk, ochre, and vermilion. Beyond doubt, I was looking upon the “council.”

The other Indians – they in “fancy dresses” – were still upon the ground; but they were standing behind, retired a pace or two from the circle, and in groups of two, three, or four, talking in low mutterings. Others were moving about at a still greater distance from the fire.

My observation of all these features of the scene did not occupy ten seconds of time – just so long as my eyes were getting accustomed to the light.

At the end of that interval, my glance rested upon Isolina, and there became fixed.

My fingers trembled among the leaves; my heart rose and fell; I could feel within my breast its strokes, rapid and irregular; I could hear its sonorous vibration.

In the chain of Indians that encircled the fire, there was a break – an interval of ten or a dozen feet. It was directly in front of the lodge, and above the fire; for the ground gently sloped from the tent towards the stream.

In this spot the captive was seated. Her situation was exactly between the lodge and the fire, and a little retired behind the circle of the council. The tent intervening between her and my position, had prevented me from seeing her at first.

She was half-seated, half-reclining upon a robe of wolfskins. I saw that her arms were free; I saw that her limbs were bound. Her back was to the tent, her face turned towards the council. I could not see it.

To recognise my betrothed, I did not need to look upon her face; her matchless form, outlined against the red embers, was easily identified. The full round curve of the neck – the oval lines of the head – the majestic sweep of the shoulders – the arms smooth and symmetrical – all these were familiar to my eyes, for oft had they dwelt on them in admiration. I could not be mistaken; the form before me was that graven upon my heart – it was Isolina’s.

There was another salient point in this singular tableau, that could not escape observation. Beyond the fire, and directly opposite to where Isolina was placed, I saw another well-known object – the white steed!

He was not staked there, but haltered and held in hand by one of the Indians. He must have been lately brought upon the ground, for from neither of my former points of observation had I noticed him. He, like his mistress, was “on trial” – his ownership was also matter of dispute.

There was in sight one more object that interested me – not with friendly interest did I regard it – but with disgust and indignation.

Not seated in the council ring, nor standing among the idle groups, but apart from all, I beheld Hissoo-royo the renegade. Savage as were the red warriors, fiend-like as they appeared with their paint-smeared visages, not one looked so savage or fiend-like as he.

The features of this man were naturally bad: but the paint – for he had adopted this with every other vile custom of barbarian life – rendered their expression positively ferocious. The device upon his forehead was a death’s-head and cross-bones – done in white chalk – and upon his breast appeared the well-imitated semblance of a bleeding scalp – the appropriate symbols of a cruel disposition.

There was something unnatural in a white skin thus disfigured, for the native complexion was not hidden: here and there it could be perceived forming the ground of the motley elaboration – its pallid hue in strange contrast with the deeper colours that daubed it! It was not the canvas for such a picture.

Yet there the picture was – in red and yellow, black, white, and blue; there stood the deep-dyed villain.

I saw not his rival; I looked for him, but saw him not. Perhaps he was one of those who stood around? – perhaps he had not yet come up? He was the son of the head-chief – perhaps he was inside the lodge? The last was the most probable conjecture.

The great calumet was brought forward and lit by the fire; it was passed around the circle, from mouth to mouth – each savage satisfying himself with a single draw from its tube.

I knew that this was the inauguration of the council. The trial was about to proceed.

Chapter Ninety Five.

Measuring the Chances

The situation in which I was placed by chance, could not have been better had I deliberately chosen it. I had under my eyes the council fire and council, the groups around – in short, the whole area of the camp.

What was of most importance, I could see without being seen. Along the edge of the copse there extended a narrow belt of shadow, similar to that which had favoured me while in the channel, and produced by a like cause – for the stream and the selvage of the grove were parallel to each other. The moonbeams fell obliquely upon the grove; and, under the thick foliage of the pecans, I was well screened from her light behind – while the lodge covered me from the glare of the fire in front.

I could not have been better placed for my purpose. I saw the advantage of the position, and resolved therefore to abide in it.

The observations and reflections thus given in detail occupied me but a few minutes of time. Thought is quick, and at that crisis mine was more than usually on the alert. Almost instantaneously did I perceive the points that most interested me, or had reference to my plans; almost instantaneously I had mastered the situation, and I next bent my mind upon the way to take advantage of it.

I saw there was but one way to proceed: my original scheme must be carried cut. Under so many eyes, there was not the slightest chance that the captive could be stolen away; she must be taken openly, and by a bold stroke. Of this was I convinced.

The question arose, when should I make the attempt? At that moment?

She was not ten paces from where I stood! Could I rush forward, and with my knife set free her limbs? Might we then get off before the savages could fling themselves upon us?

Hopeless – impossible! She was too near them; she was too near the renegade who claimed her as his property.

He was standing almost over her, within distance of a single leap. In his belt I saw the long triangular blade of a Spanish knife. He could have cut me down ere I could have severed a cord of her fastenings. The attempt would fail; success was hopeless – impossible. I must wait for a better opportunity; and I waited.

I remembered Rube’s last word of counsel, not to act too hastily – and his reasons, that if I must make a “desprit strike for it,” to leave the grand coup to the last moment. The circumstances could be no more unfavourable then than now.

Under the influence of this idea, I checked my impatience, and waited.

I watched Hissoo-royo; I watched the squatted forms around the fire; I watched the straggling groups behind them. In turn, my eyes wandered from one to the other. At intervals, too, they rested upon Isolina.

Up to this moment I had not seen her countenance; I saw only the reverse of that beautiful image so deeply graven upon my heart. But even then – under that suspense of peril – strange thoughts were passing within me. I felt a singular longing to look upon her face; I remembered the herredero.

It pleased fortune to smile upon me. So many little incidents were occurring in my favour, that I began to believe the fates propitious, and my hopes of success were growing stronger apace.

Just then the captive turned her head, and her face was towards me. There was no mark on that fair brow; that soft cheek was without a scar; the delicate skin was intact, smooth, and diaphanous as ever. The herredero had been merciful!

Perhaps something had occurred to interrupt or hinder him from his horrid work?

I prayed that the matador had met with a similar interruption! I could not tell – those profuse clusters covered all – neck, bosom, and shoulders – all were hidden under the dark dishevelment. I could not tell, but I did not dare to hope. Cyprio had seen the blood!

It was but a momentary glance, and her face was again turned away.

At intervals she repeated it, and I saw that she looked in other directions. I could note the uneasiness of her manner; I could tell why those glances were given; I knew her design. O for one word in her hearing – one whisper!

It might not be; she was too closely watched. Jealous eyes were upon her; savage hearts were gloating over her beauty. No word could have reached her, that would not have been heard by others – by all around the fire – for the silence was profound. The “council” had not yet essayed to speak.

The stillness was at length broken by the voice of a crier, who in a shrill tone proclaimed that the “council was in session.”

There was something so ceremonious in the whole proceedings, and every movement was made with such regularity, that but for the open air, the fire, the wild savage costumes, and fierce painted faces, I might have fancied myself in the presence of a civilised court, and witnessing a trial by jury! It was in effect just such a trial, though judge there was none. The members of the jury were themselves the judges – for in the simplicity of such primitive litigation, each was presumed to understand the law without an interpreter.

Pleaders, too, were equally absent; each party – plaintiff and defendant – was expected to plead his own case. Such is the simple fashion in the high court of the prairies – a fashion which might elsewhere be adopted with advantage.

The name of “Hissoo-royo” pealed upon the air. The crier was calling him into court – another parallel with the customs of civilisation!