Chapter 16 - Wood Rangers: The Trappers of Sonora by Mayne Reid
The Tiger Hunters
By the light of the fire Don Estevan could be seen walking in the direction whence proceeded the cries of the jaguar that was approaching on the right. He appeared calm as if going out in search of a deer. Tiburcio, at the aspect of the Spanish chief, felt within him that exultation of spirit which danger produces in certain energetic natures; but his dagger was the only weapon he possessed.
He cast a glance at the double-barrelled gun which the Senator held in his hand, and of which the latter was likely to make a use more fatal to his companions than to the jaguar.
On his part the Senator cast an envious look upon the safe position which Tiburcio occupied—in the centre of the group formed by Benito and his companions. Tiburcio read the meaning of this look.
“Señor Senator,” said he, “it is not proper that you should expose your life thus—a life valuable to the state. You have relatives—a noble family; as for me, if I should be killed, there is no one to care for me.”
“The fact is,” said the Senator, “if others set upon my life one half the value I put upon it myself, my death would cause a great deal of unhappiness.”
“Well, señor, suppose we change places? You give me your gun, and permit me to place my body in front of you as a rampart against the claws of the jaguars.”
This proposal was made at the moment when the two cavernous voices of the ferocious beasts were heard loudly answering to one another. Under the impression produced by the terrible dialogue, Tiburcio’s offer was hastily accepted. The Senator took his place; while the young man, with sparkling eyes and firm step, advanced several paces in the direction of the forest whence came theories of the jaguar. There he halted to receive the attack that appeared inevitable.
Don Estevan and he appeared motionless as a pair of statues. The unequal reflection of the fire gleamed upon these two men—whom chance had thus strangely united—neither of whom might yield to the other in pride or courage.
The moment was becoming critical. The two jaguars were about to find enemies worthy of them.
The fire, now burnt down, threw out only a pale light, scarce strong enough to illumine the group that stood near its edge.
At this moment an incident occurred which was likely to cause a change in the situation of affairs. In the midst of an interval of silence—in which the very stillness itself increased the apprehension of the travellers—was heard the long lugubrious whine of a prairie wolf. Melancholy as was this sound, it was sweet in comparison with the cries of the more formidable animals, the jaguars.
“The prairie wolf to howl in the presence of the tiger!” muttered the ex-herdsman. “Carramba! there’s something strange about that.”
“But I have heard it said,” rejoined Tiburcio, “that it is the habit of the prairie wolf to follow the jaguar when the latter is in search of prey?”
“That is true enough,” replied Benito, “but the wolf never howls so near the tiger, till after the tiger has taken his prey and is busy devouring it. Then his howl is a humble prayer for the other to leave him something.
“This is strange,” continued the vaquero, as the prairie wolf was heard to utter another long whine. “Hark! another!—yes—another prairie wolf and on the opposite side too!”
In fact, another plaintive whine, exactly resembling the first, both in strength and cadence, was heard from a point directly opposite.
“I repeat it,” said Benito, “prairie wolves would never dare to betray themselves thus. I am greatly mistaken if it be not creatures of a different species that make this howling, and who don’t care a straw for the jaguars.”
“What creatures?” demanded Tiburcio.
“Human creatures!” answered the ex-herdsman. “American hunters from the north.”
“Trappers do you mean?”
“Precisely. There are no people in these parts likely to be so fearless of the jaguar, and I am pretty sure that what appears to be the call of the prairie wolf is nothing else than a signal uttered by a brace of trappers. They are in pursuit of the jaguars; they have separated, and by these signals they acquaint one another of their whereabouts.”
Meanwhile the trappers, if such they were, appeared to advance with considerable precaution; for although the party by the fire listened attentively, not the slightest noise could be heard—neither the cracking of a branch, nor the rustling of a leaf.
“Hilloa! you by the fire there!” all at once broke out from the midst of the darkness a loud rough voice, “we are approaching you. Don’t be afraid; and don’t fire your guns!”
The voice had a foreign accent, which partly confirmed the truth of the vaquero’s conjecture, and the appearance of the speaker himself proved it to a certainty.
We shall not stay to describe the singular aspect of the new arrival—further than to say that he was a man of herculean stature, and accoutred in the most bizarre fashion. He appeared a sort of giant armed with a rifle—proportioned to his size—that is, having a barrel of thick heavy metal nearly six feet in length.
As he approached the group his sharp eye soon took in the different individuals that composed it, and rested with a satisfied look on the form of Tiburcio.
“The devil take that fire of yours!” he said abruptly, but in a tone of good-humour. “It has frightened away from us two of the most beautiful jaguars that ever roamed about these deserts.”
“Frightened them away!” exclaimed Baraja. “Carramba! I hope that may be true!”
“Will you allow me to put the fire out?” inquired the new-comer.
“Put out the fire—our only safeguard!” cried the astonished Senator.
“Your only safeguard!” repeated the trapper, equally astonished, as he pointed with his finger around him. “What! eight men wanting a fire for a safeguard against two poor tigers! You are surely making game of me!”
“Who are you, sir?” demanded Don Estevan, in a haughty tone.
“A hunter—as you see.”
“Hunter, of what?”
“My comrade and I trap the beaver, hunt the wolf, the tiger—or an Indian, if need be.”
“Heaven has sent you then to deliver us from these fierce animals,” said Cuchillo, showing himself in front.
“Not very likely,” replied the trapper, whose first impression of the outlaw was evidently an unfavourable one. “Heaven I fancy had nothing to do with it. My comrade and I at about two leagues from here chanced upon a panther and two jaguars, quarrelling over the body of a dead horse.”
“I re was mine,” interrupted Tiburcio.
“Yours, young man!” continued the trapper, in a tone of rude cordiality. “Well, I am glad to see you here, for we thought that the owner of the horse might be no longer among the living. The panther we killed, but the two jaguars made off, and we tracked them hither to the spring, which your fire now hinders them from approaching. Therefore, if you wish to be rid of these beasts, the sooner you put out the fire the better; and you will see how soon we shall disembarrass you of their presence.”
“And your comrade?” asked Don Estevan, struck with the idea of making a brace of valuable recruits. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be here presently; but to the work, else we must leave you to get out of your scrape as you best can.”
There was a certain authority in the tone and words of the trapper—a cool assurance that produced conviction—and upon his drawing near to put out the fire, Don Estevan did not offer to hinder him, but tacitly permitted him to have his way.
In a few seconds the burnt fagots were scattered about over the grass, and the cinders quenched by a few buckets of water drawn from the trough. This done the trapper uttered an imitation of the voice of the coyote; and before its echoes had died away, his companion stepped forward upon the ground.
Although the second trapper was by no means a man of low stature, alongside his companion he appeared only a pigmy. He was not less strangely accoutred, but in the absence of the firelight his costume was not sufficiently visible for its style to be distinguished. Of him and his dress we shall hereafter speak more particularly.
“At last your devilish fire is out,” said he, as he came up, “for the want of wood, no doubt, which none of you dared to go fetch.”
“No, that is not the reason,” hastily replied the first trapper; “I got leave from these gentlemen to put it out—so that we may have an opportunity to rid them of the presence of the tigers.”
“Hum!” murmured the Senator; “I fear we have done wrong in letting the fire be put out. Suppose you miss them?”
“Miss them! Por Dios! how?” cried the second trapper. “Caspita! If I had not been afraid to frighten off one of the beasts, I could have killed the other long ago. Several times I had him at the muzzle of my carbine, when the signal of my comrade hindered me from firing. Miss them indeed!”
“Never mind!” interrupted the great trapper; “we shall end the matter, I have no doubt, by convincing this gentleman.”
“You already knew, then, that we were here?” said Baraja.
“Of course. We have been two hours involuntarily playing the spy upon you. Ah! I know a part of the country where travellers that take no more precautions than you would soon find their heads stripped of the skin. But come, Dormilon! to our work!”
“What if the jaguars come our way?” suggested the Senator, apprehensively.
“No fear of that,” replied the trapper. “Their first care will be to satisfy their thirst, which your fire has hindered them from doing. You will hear them howling with joy, as soon as they perceive that the fire is gone out. It was the light shining upon the water that frightened them more than the presence of men. All they want now is to get a drink.”
“But how do you intend to act?” inquired Don Estevan.
“How do we intend to act?” repeated the second trapper. “That is simple enough. We shall place ourselves in the cistern—the jaguars will come forward to its brink; and then, if we are only favoured by a blink of the moon, I’ll answer for it that in the twinkling of an eye the brutes will neither feel hunger nor thirst.”
“Ah, this appears very simple!” cried Cuchillo, who was in reality astonished at the simplicity of the plan.
“Simple as bidding ‘good-bye’ to you,” humorously responded one of the trappers. “Listen there!—what did I tell you?”
Two loud roars, as if from a brazen trumpet, were heard at the moment. They appeared to proceed from the same point, proving that the jaguars had joined company; and, moreover, proclaimed the joy which the fierce creatures felt at the darkness being restored. This was further evident from their repeated sniffing of the air, like horses who afar off scent with delight the fresh emanations of the water.
At this the two trappers, leaving the party by the fire, betook themselves to the cistern. The moon, for a moment shining out, glanced upon the barrels of their long rifles; but the next moment they had disappeared behind the ridge that surrounded the spring.
No doubt it is a grand pleasure to witness the spectacle of a bull-fight, as the huge bull dashes into the ring, and, pierced by the tormenting bandrilleros, with a crest erect, and eyes flashing fire, bounds over the arena. But, if the spectators were not separated from the actors by an impassable barrier, the sight would have in it less of enjoyment than of terror. The combats between men and tigers—which the Romans used to enjoy—must have been a still more exciting spectacle; but who can doubt that, if the iron railing which separated the audience from the combatants had been removed, scarce one of the former would have remained in the circus to witness the sanguinary struggle?
Only a short space—not wider than a jaguar could have passed over in a single leap—here separated the spectators from the actors in the drama about to be enacted. Supposing, then, that one of the actors should fail in performing his part, and the spectators have to take his place? Here was a situation, exceptional, and fertile in emotions, which most of the travellers felt keenly at the moment.
Meanwhile the trappers had descended into the little crater-like valley of the spring, and there placed themselves in readiness, rifle in hand, to await the approach of their terrible adversaries. They were both upon their knees, back to back, in order that they could keep at the same time under view the whole circumference of the circle. Both had placed their knives in readiness, in case that, by any chance, they should either miss their aim, or—what would be almost as unlucky—only wound the enemy; for they well knew that a wounded jaguar is a more dangerous adversary than one that escapes altogether from the touch of the bullet.
Fortunately the moon had again appeared; but being yet low down in the sky, her beams were not thrown into the bottom of the valley—and therefore the trappers themselves were still under the shadow. This circumstance was in their favour.
Notwithstanding the perilous position in which they had thus voluntarily placed themselves, neither made the slightest movement; and the long barrels of their rifles stood forth in front of them, as motionless as bronze cannon set in battery.
They well knew, in case either should miss with their firearms, that a hand-to-hand struggle with the ferocious tigers would be the result; a combat of knives and claws—a combat to the death. Yes; at the bottom of that little valley it would be necessary for them to conquer or die. They knew this without exhibiting the slightest show of fear.