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Seguin, his friend and Mentor, as much his, senior in worldly wickedness as in years, tore himself from his breakfast long enough to survey the new-comers, and then returned to it, saying, briefly, "The old lady is worth cultivating, gives good suppers, and thanks you for eating them. The girl is well got up, but has no style, and blushes like a milkmaid. Better fight shy of her, Joe."
Inquiries were made by Colonel Seguin as to where the Comanches might be found, and we soon ascertained that they were in their great village, at the foot of the Green Mountain, upon the southern fork of the head-waters of the Rio Roxo.
"Dearest Zoe! not now: it is too difficult to explain; another time, I " "Come, Zoe! your hand, child!" "Papa, I am coming!" I was alone with my host in the apartment I had hitherto occupied. The females had retired to another part of the house; and I noticed that Seguin, on entering, had looked to the door, turning the bolt. What terrible proof was he going to exact of my faith, of my love?
They must be saved at every sacrifice; she must be yielded up to redeem them. But Seguin had still another design. It was a strategic manoeuvre, a desperate and dernier ressort on his part. It was this: he saw that, if he could once get the captives, his wife and daughter, down among the houses, there would be a possibility, in the event of a fight, of carrying them off.
This was the mountain so often discussed over the bivouac fires. Who of them had not heard of it, whether credulous or not? It was no fable, then. There it was before them, in all its burning splendour. I turned to look at Seguin. His brow was bent. There was the expression of anxiety on his countenance. He understood the illusion; so did the Maricopa; so did Reichter. I knew it too.
The Indians were clearing it of the fallen and charred timbers to get at the bodies of their friends. I watched their proceeding's with less interest, as I now knew that Seguin was not there. It was a horrid spectacle when the rubbish was cleared away, laying bare the floor of the ruin. More than a dozen bodies lay upon it, half-baked, half-roasted!
"Seguin," said he, "is a friend of mine. I have lunched at your pavilion. It's a perfect hovel!" Then Constance, contemptuous at the idea of such poverty, recalled what Madame Seguin to whom she referred as Valentine had told her of the dilapidated condition of the old shooting-box. But the doctor, after listening with a smile, broke in: "Mme. Seguin is a patient of mine.
We go, then, to release and restore them to their friends and homes." A shout of approbation broke from the crowd, mingled with exclamations of "Bravo!" "We'll fetch them back!" "Vive le capitaine!" "Viva el gefe!" When silence was restored, Seguin continued "You know our purpose. You have approved it.
Rumour had also given it the title of a "golden river"; at all events, the expedition must cross the head waters of the Prieto in its journey eastward; and this prospect had the effect of quieting the mutineers, at least for the time. There was another influence: the character of Seguin. There was no single individual in the band who cared to cross him on slight grounds.
Brother Seguin lost his patience, and heaped sarcasm after sarcasm upon her, and finally burst out in angry earnest, exclaiming: "Very well, I can tell you this, you whose belief in God is so great: God has not willed that any shall believe in you without a sign. Where is your sign? show it!"
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