Wood Rangers: The Trappers of Sonora. Майн Рид

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      Arechiza frowned till the hairs of his black moustache seemed to stand on end. The outlaw did not finish his speech. He saw that it was not the time to tell what he knew; but this species of complicity appeared to restore him to his wonted assurance.

      Cuchillo was, in truth, one of those gentlemen who have the ill luck to give to whatever name they bear a prompt celebrity; and for this reason he had changed his more than once.

      “Señor Senator,” said Arechiza, turning toward his compagnon de voyage, “this place does not appear very suitable for our noon siesta?”

      “The Señor Tragaduros y Despilfarro, will find the shade of one of these cottages more agreeable,” interposed Cuchillo, who knew the senator of Arispe. He knew, moreover, that the latter had attached himself to the fortunes of Don Estevan, in default of better cause: and in hopes of repairing his own fortune, long since dissipated.

      Despite the low state of his finances, however, the Senator had not the less a real influence in the congress of Sonora; and it was this influence which Don Estevan intended using to his own advantage. Hence the companionship that now existed between them.

      “I agree with all my heart to your proposal,” answered Tragaduros, “the more so that we have now been nearly five hours in the saddle.”

      Two of the servants dismounting, took their masters’ horses by the bridle, while the other two looked after the cargas of the mules. The camp-beds were taken from the pack saddles, and carried into two of the houses that appeared the most spacious and proper.

      We shall leave the Senator reclining upon his mattress, to enjoy that profound slumber which is the portion of just men and travellers; while we accompany Don Estevan into the hut which he had chosen for himself, and which stood at some distance from that occupied by the legislator.

Chapter Nine.

       Table of Contents

      The Compact.

      After having followed Don Estevan, at the invitation of the latter, inside the hovel, Cuchillo closed behind him the wattle of bamboos that served as a door. He did this with great care—as if he feared that the least noise should be heard without—and then he stood waiting for the Spaniard to initiate the conversation.

      The latter had seated himself on the side of his camp-bedstead, and Cuchillo also sat down, using for his seat the skull of a bullock—which chanced to be in the house. It is the ordinary stool of this part of the country, where the luxury of chairs is still unknown—at least in the houses of the poor.

      “I suppose,” said Arechiza, breaking silence, “that you have a thousand reasons why I should know you by no other than your present name. I, with motives very different from yours, no doubt, desire to be here nothing more than Don Estevan Arechiza. Now! Señor Cuchillo,” continued the speaker with a certain affectation of mockery; “let us have this grand secret that is to make your fortune and mine!”

      “A word first, Señor Don Estevan de Arechiza,” replied Cuchillo, in the same tone; “one word, and then you shall have it.”

      “I listen to you; but observe, sir, say nothing of the past—no more perfidy. We are here in a country where there are trees, and you know how I punish traitors.”

      At this allusion to some past event—no doubt some mysterious souvenir—the face of the outlaw became livid.

      “Yes,” replied he, “I remember that it is not your fault that I was not hung to a tree. It may be more prudent not to recall old wrongs—especially as you are no longer in a conquered country, but in one of forests—forests both sombre and dumb.”

      There was in this response of the outlaw such an evident air of menace, that, joined with his character and sinister antecedents, it required a firm heart on the part of Don Estevan not to regret having recalled the souvenir. With a cold smile he replied:

      “Ha! another time I shall entrust the execution of a traitor in the hands of no human being. I shall perform that office myself,” continued he, fixing upon Cuchillo a glance which caused the latter to lower his head. “As to your threats, reserve them for people of your own kind; and never forget, that between my breast and your dagger there is an insurmountable barrier.”

      “Who knows?” muttered Cuchillo, dissembling the anger which was devouring him. Then in a different tone, he continued: “But I am no traitor, Señor Don Estevan; and the proposal I am now about to make to you is frank and loyal.”

      “We shall see, then.”

      “Know, then, Señor Arechiza, that for several years past I have followed the profession of a gambusino, and have rambled over most of this country in the exercise of my calling. I have seen a deposit of gold such as mortal eye perhaps never looked upon!”

      “You have seen it, and not possessed yourself of it?”

      “Do not mock me, Don Estevan; I am in earnest. I have seen a placer so rich that the man who gets it might for a whole year play the game of hell with luck all the while against him, and not be impoverished! So rich as to satisfy the most insatiable avarice; so rich, in fact, as to buy a kingdom!”

      At these words, which responded to some hopes and desires already conceived, Don Estevan could not hinder himself from the manifestation of a certain emotion.

      “So rich,” continued the outlaw, in an exalted tone, “that I would not hesitate for one instant to give my soul to the devil in exchange for it.”

      “The devil is not such a fool as to value so highly a soul which he knows he will get gratis. But how did you discover this placer?”

      “Thus, señor. There was a gambusino called Marcos Arellanos, who was celebrated throughout the whole province. It was he who discovered this bonanza in company with another of the same calling as himself; but just as they were about to gather some of the gold, they were attacked by the Apache Indians. The associate of Marcos Arellanos was killed, and he himself had to run a thousand risks before he succeeded in making his escape.

      “It was after he came home again that by chance I met him at Tubac. There he proposed to me to join him, and go back to the placer. I accepted his offer, and we started. We arrived safely at the Golden Valley, for by that name he called the place. Powers of Heaven!” exclaimed Cuchillo, “it only needed to see those blocks of gold shining in the sun to bring before one’s eyes a thousand dazzling visions!

      “Alas! we were only permitted to feast our eyes. The savages were upon us. We were compelled to fly in our turn, and I alone escaped. Poor Marcos! he fell under the horrible war clubs; and I—I have sorely grieved for him! Now, señor, this is the secret of the Golden Valley which I desire to sell to you.”

      “To sell to me:—and who is to answer for your fidelity?”

      “My own interest. I sell you the secret, but I do not intend to alienate my rights to the placer. I have vainly endeavoured to get up an expedition such as yours, for without a strong force it would be of no use going there. It would be certain death to a party of only two or three. With your band, СКАЧАТЬ