University of Virginia Library

Scene Fourth.
The Camanchee Prince and Courreur Chef.

About the same time that Jules Caronde rose from
his restless pallet to gaze from the window upon the
quiet lake, so contrasted in its stillness and repose to
the unquiet of his own bosom, a young man made his
appearance in a turret upon the outer wall of the
island-fortress of the courreurs du bois, which was situated
a league to the north of the lonely tower of
the chasseur chief, in the centre of a broader link of
the same chain of lagoons. His glance was directed
towards the northern outlet of the lake, which, through
a succession of others, ultimately gave egress into the
Mississippi many leagues distant. He listened as if
he expected to hear distant sounds from the water,
and, with a night-telescope, surveyed, long and intensely,
the lengthened “reach” beyond him. A sound
at length arrested his ear. He listened doubtfully
a while, and then spoke to a sentinel near.

“Didst thou not hear a sound, like the dashing of
paddles, or the steady rush of barges through the
water?”

“I have heard it often to-night, Sieur De Thoyras,”
answered the man; “it is the evening wind bending
the tops of the forest trees on the main as it passes
over them. There, it ripples along the smooth water;
and now I feel it!”

“You are right, Leroy!” answered the young man,
with a tone of disappointment, as the wind blew his
locks about his cheeks.

At this moment Charleval joined him.

“If you look up the lake until dawn, De Thoyras,
you will not see your allies. A thousand Camanchee
mounted warriors will scarce row when they can
ride.”

“The same pirogues that will take them to this
side, will easily enter the inlet to the first of the chain
of lakes, and so reach us with less distance. It is
twenty leagues farther by the shores; and, as the runner
Lassatchee, on his return, bade us look for them tonight,
they will, to get here in time, take water. If
they disappoint us, we must be sacrificed along with
Renault to-morrow, or rescue him.”

“Did I not tell thee I had once seen this noble Camanchee
chief, and also the young prince his son,” observed
Charleval. “Mark me! He will not disappoint
us! When, three years ago, he heard that the
Count of Osma had arrived to govern the province
under Spain, he came from his fastnesses, accompanied
by several of his chiefs and by his son, a princely
youth, and in the most distinct terms offered his services
against the Spaniard should he again return.
Since that period he has kept himself in readiness to
obey our call. From some cause, hostility to Spain
is deeply rooted in his breast. He will not disappoint
us. Lassatchee reports that he received the message
of the arrival of the Spaniards with a kindling eye;
and, forthwith gathering his warriors, bade him return,
and say that he would not be long behind him.

When they came here before it was by land, swimming
the river on horseback. The Camanchee, like the
Arab of the desert, is ever in the saddle, and it will
not be a slight reason that will induce him to exchange
his horse for a barge. Listen! That was a horse's
neigh from the main land! Carondelet and Marigny,
thy two penitent frères, De Thoyras, who seek to
atone, by the most vigilant duty now, for their folly in
being led astray by Jules, I have posted on the shore;
Marigny's bugle will give us the signal of their approach.”

“Hark!” cried De Thoyras, catching him by the
arm.

“And there it sounds, the sweetest music ears ever
listened to,” continued Charleval, with gratitude and
triumph. “Now, Osma, is the day of thy power
ended.”

Ere the notes of the glad bugle which was sounded
from the land ceased to float across the lake, Charleval
sent back an answering blast that awakened a
thousand echoes from the wooded shores, and caused
five hundred hearts within the fortress to bound with
warlike enthusiasm.

Instantly the whole island-garrison was in life and
motion. Charleval, now the chef courreur in Renault's
place, leaving De Thoyras in command, sprang
into a barge, accompanied by the three remaining
frères that had followed De Thoyras to Renault's
standard, and whom he had made his lieutenants, and
crossed the lake to the main to meet his allies.

As he left the island, the diminished moon, with tardy
rising, at length appeared above the trees of the
forest, and, as he approached the shadowy line of the
shore, began to illumine its recesses and penetrate
aslant into its glades. Standing upright in his barge,
with his keen gaze fixed on the gloomy banks, he was
borne towards them with rapid oars. All was still
and motionless along the land; and, as he came nearer,
he began to fear his joy was premature, and that
Marigny had been deceived. At this moment he discovered

a man on the beach awaiting his landing, and
with a beating heart he sprang to the shore to meet
him.

“What tidings, Carondelet? Are they not arrived?”

“Look along the curving edge of the forest, which,
receding, leaves a wide lawn between it and the lake,”
said the young man, the elegance of whose figure was
finely set off by the richness of the chasseur costume
which he wore, conducting him, at the same time, to a
small mound, upon which grew a gigantic and wide-spreading
oak.

“I see nothing.”

“Dost thou hear nothing?”

“No.”

“Yet there are more than a thousand mounted warriors
lining it. Come with me, Charleval,” he added,
laying his hand lightly upon the wrist of his young
friend. “Their leader hath just marshalled them there
in covert, as is the practice of these forest warriors;
and now, surrounded by his stately chiefs, awaits your
coming in yonder spot where the moonlight is falling
like silver mist upon the sward.”

Charleval followed the poetic Carondelet from the
water, and, crossing the edge of the forest, came suddenly
upon the left of a line of savage warriors hid
within its shades. Passing in silence along their front,
not without admiration at the barbaric splendour of
their costume and the fierceness of their aspects, he
came to a space in the centre of the wood all open to
the sky, save that a sycamore, towering from the midst,
flung above its hoary arms, between which the moon
made its way in many a broken beam of light. Beneath
the branches of this tree Charleval discovered a
group of savage warriors, plumed and painted, and arrayed
in the gorgeous costumes of the chiefs of the
Camanchees, to which his eye was familiar. They
were mounted on fiery horses richly caparisoned; the
skins of wild beasts, that constituted their housings,
dyed scarlet and orange; while gold and silver ornaments

profusely adorned their bridles, stirrups, and
saddle-bows.

They were seven in number, armed with battle-axes;
and five of them, in addition, carried long-feathered
spears in their hands. The latter were drawn up in
stern silence a few feet in the rear of the remaining
two, as if they formed a guard of honour to their prince
rather than constituted a part of his council. The
chief himself, distinguished by his noble and kingly
bearing, as well as the war-eagle's feather that adorned
the coronet of barbaric gold, was seated in his saddle,
with his face turned towards Charleval, who had
paused to view his countenance ere he proceeded.
The light of the moon shone full upon it, and betrayed
distinctly each lineament, while it, at the same time,
softened the harsher outlines. It was that of a man
nearly sixty years of age. The features were noble,
and he thought of that haughty Castilian character
which he had observed in Spanish nobles of high birth.
Benevolence and firmness pleasingly marked the expression
of his well-shaped mouth, and a smile of great
sweetness animated his face as he slightly turned his
head to reply to some remark made by the young chief
at his side, in whom Charleval recognised his son.
There was a seriousness stamped on his brow by care
and years till it had assumed the fixed impression of
sternness, to which the bronzed complexion and the
warlike garniture of his temples gave additional severity.
Charleval read in his face the preponderance of
the more humane and gentle qualities of mankind over
the savage and vindictive. His carriage was marked
by an air of commanding dignity, that became the native
majesty of his whole person.

About his neck was a circlet of plain gold, small chains
of silver, and an imposing and barbarous necklace,
composed of talons of eagles and the glittering claws
of beasts of prey: the records of his own personal
achievements in the savage chase. He wore a sort of
surcoat without sleeves, made of the glossy skin of the
panther, bound to his body by a belt of hide fastened with

a rude clasp of virgin gold. His leggins were of orange-coloured
deer's hide, highly ornamented, with sandals
of the same, elegantly and tastefully wrought with
brilliant beadwork, and his shirt was of mountain goat-skin.
Over his shoulders was worn a scarlet mantle
or ponta, which fell in graceful folds about his person.
It was garnished with quills of the porcupine, and bordered
with the long hair of human scalps. His stirrups
were of solid gold, and his bridle was plated with
the same precious metal. In his hand he held a shining
battle-axe, which, with a broad two-edged dagger
stuck in his belt, comprised his arms.

The young chief, his son, was mounted on a black
horse of great firmness of limb and matchless beauty
of proportion, whose fiery impatience he could hardly
restrain, yet governing him with that careless indifference
of touch (beneath which is concealed the mastery
of skill) characteristic of a man to whom the saddle is
a familiar seat. He was not more than seventeen
years of age, yet tall and graceful; shaped like a youthful
Apollo, remarkable for the natural ease of his carriage,
and the unstudied grace of all his movements.
His eye was bright and fearless; his brow open and ingenuous;
and the expression of his face, which was
dark but handsome, was resolute and fearless. A
circlet of the plumes of the war-eagle bound his brows,
ornamented with the beak of the kingly bird placed in
front, like the visor to a helm. His black hair was
braided, and hung in long plaits to his saddle, the ends
tied with gay cords of silver thread and tassels. Over
his shoulder was thrown the skin of a young buffalo-bull;
and on the soft, white texture of the dressed hide,
which served as an ornamental lining of the shaggy
hide, and of which he ostentatiously displayed outwardly
as much as could appear, were painted or emblazoned
in scarlet colours the battles in which, young as
he was, he had already distinguished himself. His
leggins were of the same gay colours; while gaitermoccasins
of exceedingly beautiful workmanship covered
his feet and legs. His breast was ornamented

with gold and silver ornaments, and savage necklaces
of birds and tiger's claws; while on his breast hung a
circular shield made of the skin of the bull's neck, on
which were blazoned, singularly enough, the crest of
the house of Osma, as if the young warrior would defy
the Spanish chief on the morrow by the open appropriation
of his own arms. A quiver and a short bow
were slung at his back; in his belt was stuck a long
dagger; and, like his sire, he carried in his right
hand a naked battle-axe. Near him stood the young
chasseur Marigny.

“Ihuahua! the young courreur leader is here,”
said Carondelet, advancing, and addressing the elder
chief.

“On foot?” exclaimed the prince, in French, courteously
dismounting with native politeness; and, throwing
the rein of his horse to his son, he walked forward
to meet Charleval.

The young man received him with that warmth of
grateful feeling which his prompt coming had inspired.
Then, without losing for him that reverence his age
and commanding presence, as well as his powerful
rank challenged, he entered immediately into the subject
of the alliance.

“Hast thou seen this Count Osma?” inquired the
Camanchee warrior, after Charleval had given him, in
answer to question upon question (as if the minutest
detail was to him of the deepest moment), a full and
connected narrative of the circumstances that had
transpired within his knowledge, from the night of the
landing of the Spaniards to that moment; to all of
which he had listened with stern and wondering attention.

“I have not seen him, Ihuahua. Yet men say he
hath a noble countenance, and looks less the villain
than he is,” answered Charleval.

“Hath he a daughter who is fair and virtuous, said
you?”

“Gentle and lovely above her sex, rumour has it.”

“ 'Tis a pity; I would it were not so,” observed

the warrior, with some emotion. “Hath he grown
gray?”

“The count?”

“Yes, this count,” he repeated, with a strong ironical
emphasis on the last word.

“I have not yet seen him, prince!” answered Charleval.

“Ah! no—no, thou hast not,” he answered, abstractedly,
and then gave himself up to musing.

Charleval noticed his manner with surprise; but,
not being able to account for it to his satisfaction, entered
into conversation with the young prince, who
spoke French like a native, until the father should
rouse himself from his deep thought and again address
him. Suddenly Ihuahua turned to him and said, in a
commanding tone,

“Conduct me to thy fortress! I would pass the
night with thee. My warriors shall encamp here on
the main, and with the dawn be ready to move towards
the town. My son Opelouza will accompany
me. These chiefs will also remain with my warriors.”

Thus speaking, and giving a few orders to his chieftains
in their own martial tongue, the dignified warrior,
accompanied by his son, both leaving their horses
in the charge of their men, followed Charleval to the
beach, and, entering the boat with him, were rapidly
borne across the lake to the fortress.