The Trappers of Arkansas; or, The Loyal HeartAimard, Gustave
General
The Trappers of Arkansas; or, The Loyal Heart
Aimard, Gustave
Arkansas -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction; Western stories
The bandits arose with a very ill grace, rubbing their eyes, and yawning
enough to dislocate their jaws.
The captain made them, in the first place, securely close up the hole
by which they had entered, then he ordered them to follow him with the
prisoners, whose legs they unbound, in order that they might walk.
They stopped in one of the numerous halls, if we may so term them, which
the captain had discovered on his route; one man was appointed to guard
the prisoners, who were left in this place, and the captain, with the
three other bandits continued their way to the outlet.
"You see," he said to them, pointing to the outlet, "that sometimes
misfortune has its good, since chance has allowed us to discover a
place of refuge where no one will come to seek us. You, Frank, set off
directly for the rendez-vous I have appointed with your comrades, and
bring them hither, as well as all the rest of our men who did not form
part of the expedition. As for you, Antonio, you must procure us some
provisions. Go, both of you. It is needless to tell you that I shall
await your return with impatience."
The two bandits plunged into the river without reply, and disappeared.
"As to you, Gonzalez," he said, "employ yourself in gathering wood
together for firing, and dry leaves for bedding; come, to work! to work!"
An hour later, a clear fire sparkled in the grotto, and upon soft beds
of dry leaves the bandits slept soundly.
At sunrise the rest of the troop arrived.
There were still thirty of them!
The worthy leader felt his heart dilate with joy at the sight of the
rich collection of scoundrels he had still at his disposal. With them
he did not despair of re-establishing his affairs, and of soon taking a
signal revenge.
After an abundant breakfast, composed of venison, copiously washed
down with mezcal, the captain at length turned his attention to his
prisoners. He repaired to the hall which served for their dungeon.
Since he had fallen into the hands of the bandits, the general had
remained silent, apparently insensible to the ill-treatment to which he
had been exposed.
The wounds he had received, being neglected, had festered, and gave him
terrible pain; but he did not utter a complaint.
A deep grief took possession of his mind from the moment of his capture;
he saw all his hopes overthrown of being able to resume the execution of
the project that had brought him into the prairies.
All his companions were dead, and he knew not what fate awaited himself.
The only thing that brought a slight consolation to his pains was the
certainty that his niece had succeeded in escaping.
But what was to become of her in this desert, where nothing was to be
met with but wild beasts, and still more ferocious Indians? How could a
young girl, accustomed to all the comforts of life, support the hazards
of this existence of privations?
This idea redoubled his sufferings.
The captain was terrified at the state in which he found him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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