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diff --git a/21240.txt b/21240.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cbe879e --- /dev/null +++ b/21240.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14101 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lone Ranche, by Captain Mayne Reid + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lone Ranche + +Author: Captain Mayne Reid + +Release Date: April 27, 2007 [EBook #21240] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONE RANCHE *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + + +The Lone Ranche +A Tale of the Staked Plain + +By Captain Mayne Reid +________________________________________________________________________ +This was quite a hard book to transcribe, and I hope there are not now +too many errors remaining. For one thing several of the people of the +book speak a very rough version of the language, so that there are many +hundreds of "words" appearing in the book, that are not in the +dictionary. And the "new" words are not always consistently spelt. + +There are numerous Spanish or Mexican words used in the book, but I +am no scholar in these tongues. I just did my best to get them right. + +Another problem was that the type used to print the book had been +damaged in many places, which meant that it was sometimes very hard to +decipher. After much poring there remains only one damaged word in the +book, of which I am not certain. + +As if this were not enough I made the mistake of scanning the book too +dark, which meant that in very many cases a full stop following the +letters `t' and sometimes `e' had not come correctly through the OCR +process; and also any stains on the pages obscured the letters under +them. This greatly increased the amount of work needed to transcribe +the book. + +I suppose this is among the very first "cowboy and Indian" books. If +you are interested in this genre, here is the book for you. NH +________________________________________________________________________ + +THE LONE RANCHE +A TALE OF THE STAKED PLAIN + +BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +A TALE OF THE STAKED PLAIN. + +"HATS OFF!" + +Within the city of Chihuahua, metropolis of the northern provinces of +Mexico--for the most part built of mud--standing in the midst of vast +barren plains, o'ertopped by bold porphyritic mountains--plains with a +population sparse as their timber--in the old city of Chihuahua lies the +first scene of our story. + +Less than twenty thousand people dwell within the walls of this North +Mexican metropolis, and in the country surrounding it a like limited +number. + +Once they were thicker on the soil; but the tomahawk of the Comanche and +the spear of the Apache have thinned off the descendants of the +_Conquistadores_, until country houses stand at wide distances apart, +with more than an equal number of ruins between. + +Yet this same city of Chihuahua challenges weird and wonderful memories. +At the mention of its name springs up a host of strange records, the +souvenirs of a frontier life altogether different from that wreathed +round the history of Anglo-American borderland. It recalls the cowled +monk with his cross, and the soldier close following with his sword; the +old mission-house, with its church and garrison beside it; the fierce +savage lured from a roving life, and changed into a toiling _peon_, +afterwards to revolt against a system of slavery that even religion +failed to make endurable; the neophyte turning his hand against his +priestly instructor, equally his oppressor; revolt followed by a deluge +of blood, with ruinous devastation, until the walls of both _mission_ +and military _cuartel_ are left tenantless, and the redskin has returned +to his roving. + +Such a history has had the city of Chihuahua and the settlements in its +neighbourhood. Nor is the latter portion of it all a chronicle of the +olden time. Much of it belongs to modern days; ay, similar scenes are +transpiring even now. But a few years ago a stranger entering its gates +would have seen nailed overhead, and whisked to and fro by the wind, +some scores of objects similar to one another, and resembling tufts of +hair, long, trailing, and black, as if taken from the manes or tails of +horses. But it came not thence; it was human hair; and the patches of +skin that served to keep the bunches together had been stripped from +human skulls! They were _scalps_--the scalps of Indians, showing that +the Comanche and Apache savages had not had it all their own way. + +Beside them could be seen other elevated objects of auricle shape, set +in rows or circles like a festooning of child peppers strung up for +preservation. No doubt their procurement had drawn tears from the eyes +of those whose heads had furnished them, for they were human ears! + +These ghastly souvenirs were the _bounty warrants_ of a band whose deeds +have been already chronicled by this same pen. They were the trophies +of "Scalp Hunters"--vouchers for the number of Indians they had killed. + +They were there less than a quarter of a century ago, waving in the dry +wind that sweeps over the plains of Chihuahua. For aught the writer +knows, they may be there still; or, if not the same, others of like gory +record replacing or supplementing them. + +It is not with the "Scalp Hunters" we have now to do--only with the city +of Chihuahua. And not much with it either. A single scene occurring in +its streets is all of Chihuahuaense life to be depicted in this tale. + +It was the spectacle of a religious procession--a thing far from +uncommon in Chihuahua or any other Mexican town; on the contrary, so +common that at least weekly the like may be witnessed. This was one of +the grandest, representing the story of the Crucifixion. Citizens of +all classes assisted at the ceremony, the soldiery also taking part in +it. The clergy, of course, both secular and regular, were its chief +supports and propagators. To them it brought bread, and if not butter-- +since there is none in Chihuahua--it added to their incomes and +influence, by the sale of leaden crosses, images of the Virgin Mother, +and the numerous sisterhood of saints. In the _funcion_ figured the +usual Scripture characters:--The Redeemer conducted to the place of +Passion; the crucifix, borne on the shoulders of a brawny, brown-skinned +Simon; Pilate the oppressor; Judas the betrayer--in short, every +prominent personage spoken of as having been present on that occasion +when the Son of Man suffered for our sins. + +There is, or was then, an American hotel in Chihuahua, or at least one +conducted in the American fashion, though only a mere _posada_. Among +its guests was a gentleman, stranger to the town, as the country. His +dress and general appearance bespoke him from the States, and by the +same tokens it could be told that he belonged to their southern section. +He was in truth a Kentuckian; but so far from representing the type, +tall, rough, and stalwart, usually ascribed to the people "Kaintuck," he +was a man of medium size, with a build comparable to that of the +Belvidere Apollo. He had a figure tersely set, with limbs well knitted; +a handsome face and features of amiable cast, at the same time +expressing confidence and courage. A costly Guayaquil hat upon his +head, and coat to correspond, bespoke him respectable; his _tout +ensemble_ proclaimed him a man of leisure; while his air and bearing +were unmistakably such as could only belong to a born gentleman. + +Why he was in Chihuahua, or whence he had come to it, no one seemed to +know or care. Enough that he was there, and gazing at the spectacular +procession as it filed past the posada. + +He was regarding it with no eye of wonderment. In all likelihood he had +seen such before. He could not have travelled far through Mexico +without witnessing some ceremony of a similar kind. + +Whether interested in this one or no he was soon notified that he was +not regarding it in the manner proper or customary to the country. +Standing half behind one of the pillars of the hotel porch, he had not +thought it necessary to take off his hat. Perhaps placed in a more +conspicuous position he would have done this. Frank Hamersley--for such +was his name--was not the sort of man to seek notoriety by an exhibition +of bravado, and, being a Protestant of a most liberal creed, he would +have shrunk from offending the slightest sensibilities of those +belonging to an opposite faith--even the most bigoted Roman Catholic of +that most bigoted land. That his "Guayaquil" still remained upon his +head was due to simple forgetfulness of its being there; it had not +occurred to him to uncover. + +While silently standing with eyes turned towards the procession, he +observed scowling looks, and heard low growlings from the crowd as it +swayed slowly past. He knew enough to be conscious of what this meant; +but he felt at the same time disinclined to humiliate himself by a too +facile compliance. A proud American, in the midst of a people he had +learned to despise--their idolatrous observances along with them--no +wonder he should feel a little defiant and a good deal exasperated. +Enough yielding, he thought, to withdraw farther back from behind the +pillar, which he did. + +It was too late. The keen eye of a fanatic had been upon him--one who +appeared to have authority for meting out chastisement. An officer, +bearded and grandly bedizened, riding at the head of a troop of lancers, +quickly wheeled his horse from out of the line of march, and spurred him +towards the porch of the posada. In another instant his bared blade was +waving over the hatted head of the Kentuckian. + +"_Gringo! alto su sombrero! Abajo! a sus rodillas_!" ("Off with your +hat, greenhorn! Down upon your knees!") were the words that came +hissing from the moustached lips of the lancer. + +As they failed to beget compliance, they were instantly followed by a +blow from the blade of his sabre. It was given sideways, but with +sufficient sleight and force to send the Guayaquil hat whirling over the +pavement, and its wearer reeling against the wall. + +It was but the stagger of a sudden and unexpected surprise. In another +instant the "gringo" had drawn a revolving pistol, and in yet another +its bullet would have been through the brain of the swaggering +aggressor, but for a third personage, who, rushing from behind, laid +hold of the Kentuckian's arm, and restrained the firing. + +At first it seemed to Hamersley the act of another enemy; but in a +moment he knew it to be the behaviour of a friend--at least a +pacificator bent upon seeing fair play. + +"You are wrong, Captain Uraga," interposed he who had intermeddled, +addressing himself to the officer. "This gentleman is a stranger in the +country, and not acquainted with our customs." + +"Then it is time the heretico should be taught them, and, at the same +time, respect for the Holy Church. But what right, Colonel Miranda, +have you to interfere?" + +"The right, first of humanity, second of hospitality, and third that I +am your superior officer." + +"Bah! You mistake yourself. Remember, senor coronel, you are not in +your own district. If it was in Albuquerque, I might take commands from +you. This is the city of Chihuahua." + +"Chihuahua or not, you shall be made answerable for this outrage. Don't +imagine that your patron, Santa Anna, is now Dictator, with power to +endorse such base conduct as yours. You seem to forget, Captain Uraga, +that you carry your commission under a new regime--one that holds itself +responsible, not only to fixed laws, but to the code of decency-- +responsible also for international courtesy to the great Republic of +which, I believe, this gentleman is a citizen." + +"Bah!" once more exclaimed the bedizened bully. "Preach your _palabras_ +to ears that have time to listen to them. I shan't stop the procession +for either you or your Yankee protege. So you can both go to the +devil." + +With this benevolent permission the captain of lancers struck the spurs +into his horse, and once more placed himself at the head of his troop. +The crowd collected by the exciting episode soon scattered away--the +sooner that the strange gentleman, along with his generous defender, had +disappeared from the portico, having gone inside the inn. + +The procession was still passing, and its irresistible attractions swept +the loiterers along in its current--most of them soon forgetting a scene +which, in that land, where "law secures not life," is of too frequent +occurrence to be either much thought of or for long remembered. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +A FRIEND IN NEED. + +The young Kentuckian was half frenzied by the insult he had received. +The proud blood of his republican citizenship was boiling within his +veins. What was he to do? + +In the agony of his dilemma he put the question to the gentleman who, +beyond all doubt, had restrained him from committing manslaughter. + +The latter was an entire stranger to him--never seen him before. He was +a man of less than thirty years of age, wearing a broad-brimmed hat upon +his head, a cloth jacket, slashed _calzoneras_, and a red crape scarf +around his waist--in short, the _ranchero_ costume of the country. +Still, there was a military bearing about him that corresponded to the +title by which the lancer captain had addressed him. + +"Caballero," he said in reply, "if your own safety be of any consequence +to you I should advise you to take no further notice of the incident +that has arisen, however much it may have exasperated you, as no doubt +it has done." + +"Pardon me, senor; but not for all the world would I follow your +advice--not for my life. I am an American--a Kentuckian. We do not +take blows without giving something of the same in return. I must have +redress." + +"If you seek it by the law I may as well warn you, you won't have much +chance of finding it." + +"I know that. The law! I did not think of such a thing. I am a +gentleman; I suppose this Captain Uraga supposes himself to be the same, +and will not refuse to give me the usual satisfaction." + +"He may refuse, and very likely will, on the plea of your being a +stranger--only a barbarian, a _Tejano_ or _gringo_, as he has put it." + +"I am alone here--what am I to do?" + +The Kentuckian spoke half in soliloquy, his countenance expressing +extreme chagrin. + +"_Fuez, senor_!" responded the Mexican colonel, "if you're determined on +a _desafio_ I think I might arrange it. I feel that I am myself a +little compromised by my interference; and if you'll accept of me for +your second, I think I can answer for it that Captain Uraga will not +dare to deny us." + +"Colonel Miranda--your name, I believe--need I attempt to express my +thanks for so much generosity? I cannot--I could not. You have removed +the very difficulty that was in my way; for I am not only a stranger to +you, but to every one around. I arrived at Chihuahua but yesterday, and +do not know a soul in the place." + +"Enough; you shall not be disappointed in your duel for the want of a +second. As a preliminary, may I ask if you are skilled in the use of +the sword?" + +"Sufficiently to stake my life upon it." + +"I put the question, because that is the weapon your adversary will be +certain to choose. You being the challenger, of course he has the +choice; and he will insist upon it, for a reason that may perhaps amuse +you. It is that we Mexican gentlemen believe you Americans somewhat +_gauche_ in the handling of the rapier, though we know you to be adepts +in the use of the pistol. I take Captain Gil Uraga to be as thorough a +poltroon as ever wore epaulettes, but he will have to meet you on my +account; and he would perhaps have done so anyhow--trusting to the +probability of your being a bad swordsman." + +"In that he may find himself disappointed." + +"I am glad to hear it; and now it only needs to receive your +instructions. I am ready to act." + +The instructions were given, and within two hours' time Captain Gil +Uraga, of the Zacatecas Lancers, was in receipt of a challenge from the +Kentuckian--Colonel Miranda being its bearer. + +With such a voucher the lancer officer could not do otherwise than +accept, which he did with cooler confidence for the very reason Miranda +had made known. A _Tejano_, was his reflection--what should he know of +the sword? + +And swords were the weapons chosen. + +Had the captain of Zacatecas Lancers been told that his intended +adversary had spent a portion of his life among the Creoles of New +Orleans, he would have been less reliant on the chances likely to turn +up in his favour. + +We need not describe the duel, which, if different from other encounters +of the kind, was by being on both sides bitter, and of deadly intent. +Suffice it to say, that the young Kentuckian displayed a skill in +swordsmanship sufficient to disarrange several of Gil Uraga's front +teeth, and make an ugly gash in his cheek. He had barely left to him +sufficient command of his mouth to cry "Basta!" and so the affair ended. + +"Senor Hamersley," said the man who had so effectively befriended him, +after they had returned from the encounter, and were drinking a bottle +of Paso wine in the posada, "may I ask where you intend going when you +leave Chihuahua?" + +"To Santa Fe, in New Mexico; thence to the United States, along with one +of the return caravans." + +"When do you propose starting?" + +"As to that, I am not tied to time. The train with which I am to cross +the plains will not be going for six months to come. I can get to Santa +Fe by a month's travel, I suppose?" + +"Less than that. It is not a question of how soon you may arrive there, +but when you leave here. I advise you to start at once. I admit that +two days is but a short time to see the sights of even so small a place +as Chihuahua. But you have witnessed one of them--enough, I should say. +If you take my advice you will let it content you, and kick the +Chihuahua-ense dust from your feet before another twenty-four hours have +passed over your head." + +"But why, Colonel Miranda?" + +"Because so long as you remain here you will be in danger of losing your +life. You don't know the character of the man with whom you have +crossed swords. I do. Although wearing the uniform of an officer in +our army, he is simply a _salteador_. A coward, as I told you, too. He +would never have met you if he had thought I would have given him a +chance to get out of it. Perhaps he might have been tempted by the +hopes of an easy conquest from your supposed want of skill. It would +have given him something to boast about among the dames of Chihuahua, +for Captain Gil deems himself no little of a lady-killer. You have +spoilt his physiognomy for life; and, depend upon it, as long as life +lasts, he will neither forget nor forgive that. I shall also come in +for a share of his spite, and it behoves both of us to beware of him." + +"But what can he do to us?" + +"Caballero, that question shows you have not been very long in this +country, and are yet ignorant of its customs. In Mexico we have some +callings not congenial to your people. Know that stilettoes can here be +purchased cheaply, with the arms of assassins to use them. Do you +understand me?" + +"I do. But how do you counsel me to act?" + +"As I intend acting myself--take departure from Chihuahua this very day. +Our roads are the same as far as Albuquerque, where you will be out of +reach of this little danger. I am returning thither from the city of +Mexico, where I've had business with the Government. I have an escort; +and if you choose to avail yourself of it you'll be welcome to its +protection." + +"Colonel Miranda, again I know not how to thank you. I accept your +friendly offer." + +"Reserve your thanks till I have done you some service beyond the simple +duty of a gentleman, who sees another gentleman in a dilemma he had no +hand in creating. But enough, senor; we have no time to spend in +talking. Even now there may be a couple of poignards preparing for us. +Get your things ready at once, as I start two hours before sunset. In +this sultry weather we are accustomed to travel in the cool of the +evening." + +"I shall be ready." + +That same afternoon, two hours before the going down of the sun, a party +of horsemen, wearing the uniform of Mexican dragoons of the line, issued +from the _garita_ of Chihuahua, and took the northern road leading to +Santa Fe, by El Paso del Norte. Colonel Miranda, his ranchero dress +changed for the fatigue uniform of a cavalry officer, was at its head, +and by his side the stranger, whose cause he had so generously and +gallantly espoused. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +THE COLONEL COMMANDANT. + +Six weeks have elapsed since the day of the duel at Chihuahua. Two men +are standing on the _azotea_ of a large mansion-like house close to the +town of Albuquerque, whose church spire is just visible through the +foliage of trees that shade and surround the dwelling. They are Colonel +Miranda and the young Kentuckian, who has been for some time his guest; +for the hospitality of the generous Mexican had not terminated with the +journey from Chihuahua. After three weeks of toilsome travel, including +the traverse of the famed "Dead Man's Journey," he was continuing to +extend it in his own house and his own district, of which last he was +the military commandant, Albuquerque being at the time occupied by a +body of troops, stationed there for defence against Indian incursions. + +The house on whose roof the two men stood was that in which Colonel +Miranda had been born--the patrimonial mansion of a large estate that +extended along the Rio del Norte, and back towards the Sierra Blanca, +into territories almost unknown. + +Besides being an officer in the Mexican army, the colonel was one of the +_ricos_ of the country. The house, as already said, was a large, +massive structure, having, like all Mexican dwellings of its class, a +terraced roof, or _azotea_. What is also common enough in that country, +it was surmounted by a _mirador_, or "belvedere." Standing less than +half a mile distant from the soldier's _cuartel_, the commandant found +it convenient to make use of it as his headquarters. A small guard in +the _saguan_, or covered entrance below, with a sentinel stationed +outside the gate in front, indicated this. + +There was no family inside, wife, woman, or child; for the colonel, +still a young man, was a bachelor. Only _peons_ in the field, grooms +and other servants around the stables, with domestics in the dwelling-- +all, male and female, being Indians of the race known as "Indios +mansos"--brown-skinned and obedient. + +But though at this time there was no living lady to make her soft +footsteps heard within the walls of the commandant's dwelling, the +portrait of a lovely girl hung against the side of the main _sola_, and +on this his American guest had more than once gazed in silent +admiration. It showed signs of having been recently painted, which was +not strange, since it was the likeness of Colonel Miranda's sister, a +few years younger than himself--at the time on a visit to some relatives +in a distant part of the Republic. Frank Hamersley's eyes never rested +on it without his wishing the original at home. + +The two gentlemen upon the housetop were leisuring away the time in the +indulgence of a cigar, watching the water-fowl that swam and plunged on +the bosom of the broad shallow stream, listening to the hoarse croakings +of pelicans and the shriller screams of the _guaya_ cranes. It was the +hour of evening, when these birds become especially stridulent. + +"And so you must go to-morrow, Senor Francisco?" said his host, taking +the cigaritto from between his teeth, and looking inquiringly into the +face of the Kentuckian. + +"There is no help for it, colonel. The caravan with which I came out +will be leaving Santa Fe the day after to-morrow, and there's just time +for me to get there. Unless I go along with it, there may be no other +opportunity for months to come, and one cannot cross the plains alone." + +"Well, I suppose I must lose you. I am sorry, and selfishly, too, for, +as you see, I am somewhat lonely here. There's not one of my officers, +with the exception of our old _medico_, exactly of the sort to be +companionable. True, I have enough occupation, as you may have by this +time discovered, in looking after our neighbours, the _Indios bravos_, +who, knowing the skeleton of a regiment I've got, are growing saucier +every day. I only wish I had a score or two of your stalwart trappers, +who now and then pay a visit to Albuquerque. Well, my sister will soon +be here, and she, brave girl, has plenty of life in her, though she be +but young. What a joyous creature she is, wild as a mustang filly fresh +caught. I wish, Don Francisco, you could have stayed to make her +acquaintance. I am sure you would be delighted with her." + +If the portrait on the wall was anything of a faithful likeness, +Hamersley could not have been otherwise. This was his reflection, +though, for certain reasons, he did not in speech declare it. + +"It is to be hoped we shall meet again, Colonel Miranda," was his +ingenious rejoinder. "If I did not have this hope, I should now be +parting from you with greater regret. Indeed, I have more than a +presentiment we shall meet again; since I've made up my mind on a +certain thing." + +"On what, Don Francisco?" + +"On returning to New Mexico." + +"To settle in the country?" + +"Not exactly that; only for a time--long enough to enable me to dispose +of a cargo of merchandise in exchange for a bag of your big Mexican +dollars." + +"Ah! you intend to become one of the prairie merchants, then?" + +"I do. That intention has been the cause of my visiting your country. +I am old enough to think of some calling, and have always had a fancy +for the adventurous life of the prairie trader. As I have sufficient +means to stock a small caravan for myself, I think now of trying it. My +present trip has been merely one of experiment and exploration. I am +satisfied with the result, and, if no accident arise, you may see me +back on the Del Norte before either of us be twelve months older." + +"Then, indeed, is there a hope of our meeting again. I am rejoiced at +it. But, Senor Don Francisco," continued his host, changing to a +serious tone, "a word lest I might forget it--a word of counsel, or +warning, I may call it. I have observed that you are too unsuspicious, +too regardless of danger. It does not all lie upon the prairies, or +among red-skinned savages. There is as much of it here, amid the abodes +of our so-called civilisation. When you are travelling through this +country bear your late antagonist in mind, and should you at any time +meet, beware of him. I have given you some hints about the character of +Gil Uraga. I have not told you all. He is worse than you can even +imagine. I know him well. Do you see that little house, out yonder on +the other side of the river?" + +Hamersley nodded assent. + +"In that hovel he was born. His father was what we call a _pelado_--a +poor devil, with scarce a coat to his back. Himself the same, but +something worse. He has left in his native place a record of crimes +well known, with others more than suspected. In short, he is, as I have +told you, a robber. No doubt you wonder that such a man should be an +officer in our army. That is because you are ignorant of the state of +our service--our society as well. It is but the result of constantly +recurring changes in our political system. Still you may feel surprise +at his holding this commission, with the patriotic party--the pure one-- +in power, as it now is. That might be inexplicable even to myself, +since I know that he will be traitor to our cause when convenient to +him. But I also know the explanation. There is a power, even when the +party exercising it is not in the ascendant--an influence that works by +sap and secrecy. It is that of our hierarchy. Gil Uraga is one of its +tools, since it exactly suits his low instincts and treacherous +training. Whenever the day is ripe for a fresh _pronunciamento_ against +our liberties--if we are so unfortunate as to have one--he will be +amongst the foremost of the traitors. _Carrai_! I can think of him +only with disgust and loathing. Would you believe it, senor, that this +fellow, now that epaulettes have been set on his shoulders--placed there +for some vile service--has the audacity to aspire to the hand of my +sister? Adela Miranda standing in bridal robes by the side of Gil +Uraga! I would rather see her in her shroud!" + +Hamersley's bosom heaved up as he listened to the last words, and with +emotion almost equalling that which excited his host. He had just been +thinking about the portrait upon the wall, and how beautiful the +original must be. Now hearing her name coupled with that of the ruffian +whose blow he had felt, and whose blood he had spilled, he almost +regretted not having ended that duel by killing his adversary outright. + +"But surely, Colonel Miranda," he said at length, "there could be no +danger of such an event as that you speak of?" + +"Never, so long as I live. But, amigo, as you have learnt, this is a +strange land--a country of quick changes. I am here to-day, commanding +in this district, with power, I may almost say, over the lives of all +around me. To-morrow I may be a fugitive, or dead. If the latter, +where is she, my poor sister, going to find the arm that could protect +her?" + +Again the breast of Hamersley heaved in a convulsive manner. Strange as +it might appear, the words of his newly-made friend seemed like an +appeal to him. And it is just possible some such thought was in the +mind of the Mexican colonel. In the strong man by his side he saw the +type of a race who can protect; just such an oak as he would wish to see +his sister extend her arms tendril-like around, and cling on to for +life. + +Hamersley could not help having vague and varied misgivings; yet among +them was one purpose he had already spoken of--a determination to return +to Albuquerque. + +"I am sure to be back here," he said, as if the promise was meant to +tranquillise the apprehensions of the colonel. Then, changing to a more +careless tone, he added,-- + +"I cannot come by the spring caravans; there would not be time enough to +make my arrangements. But there is a more southern route, lately +discovered, that can be travelled at any season. Perhaps I may try +that. In any case, I shall write you by the trains leaving the States +in the spring, so that you may know when to expect me. And if, Colonel +Miranda," he added, after a short reflective pause, in which his +countenance assumed a new and graver form of expression, "if any +political trouble, such as you speak of, should occur, and you may find +it necessary to flee from your own land, I need not tell you that in +mine you will find a friend and a home. After what has happened here, +you may depend upon the first being true, and the second hospitable, +however humble." + +On that subject there was no further exchange of speech. The two +individuals, so oddly as accidentally introduced, flung aside the stumps +of their cigars; and, clasping hands, stood regarding one another with +the gaze of a sincere, unspeakable friendship. + +Next morning saw the Kentuckian riding away from Albuquerque towards the +capital of New Mexico, an escort of dragoons accompanying him, sent by +the Mexican colonel as a protection against marauding Indians. + +But all along the road, and for months after, he was haunted with the +memory of that sweet face seen upon the _sola_ wall; and instead of +laughing at himself for having fallen in love with a portrait, he but +longed to return, and look upon its original--chafing under an +apprehension, with which the parting words of his New Mexican host had +painfully inspired him. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +A PRONUNCIAMENTO. + +A little less than a quarter of a century ago the Navajo Indians were +the terror of the New Mexican settlements. It was no uncommon thing for +them to charge into the streets of a town, shoot down or spear the +citizens, plunder the shops, and seize upon such women as they wanted, +carrying these captives to their far-off fastnesses in the land of +Navajoa. + +In the _canon_ de Chelley these savages had their headquarters, with the +temple and _estufa_, where the sacred fire of _Moctezuma_ was never +permitted to go out; and there, in times past, when Mexico was misruled +by the tyrant Santa Anna, might have been seen scores of white women, +captives to the Navajo nation, women well born and tenderly brought up, +torn from their homes on the Rio del Norte, and forced to become the +wives of their red-skinned captors--oftener their concubines and slaves. +White children, too, in like manner, growing up among the children of +their despoilers; on reaching manhood to forget all the ties of kindred, +with the _liens_ of civilised life--in short, to be as much savages as +those who had adopted them. + +At no period was this despoliation more rife than in the time of which +we write. It had reached its climax of horrors, day after day +recurring, when Colonel Miranda became military commandant of the +district of Albuquerque; until not only this town, but Santa Fe, the +capital of the province itself, was menaced with destruction by the red +marauders. Not alone the Navajoes on the west, but the Apaches on the +south, and the Comanches who peopled the plains to the east, made +intermittent and frequent forays upon the towns and villages lying along +the renowned Rio del Norte. There were no longer any outlying +settlements or isolated plantations. The grand _haciendas_, as the +humble _ranchos_, were alike lain in ruins. In the walled town alone +was there safety for the white inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico, or for those +Indians, termed _mansos_, converted to Christianity, and leagued with +them in the pursuits of civilisation. And, indeed, not much safety +either within towns--even in Albuquerque itself. + +Imbued with a spirit of patriotism, Colonel Miranda, in taking charge of +the district--his native place, as already known--determined on doing +his best to protect it from further spoliation; and for this purpose had +appealed to the central government to give him an increase to the forces +under his command. + +It came in the shape of a squadron of lancers from Chihuahua, whose +garrison only spared them on their being replaced by a troop of like +strength, sent on from the capital of the country. + +It was not very pleasant to the commandant of Albuquerque to see Captain +Gil Uraga in command of the subsidy thus granted him. But the lancer +officer met him in a friendly manner, professing cordiality, apparently +forgetful of their duelling feud, and, at least outwardly, showing the +submission due to the difference of their rank. + +Engaged in frequent affairs with the Indians, and expeditions in pursuit +of them, for a while things seemed to go smoothly enough. + +But as Adela Miranda had now returned home, and was residing with her +brother, in the interludes of tranquillity he could not help having some +concern for her. He was well aware of Uraga's aspirations; and, though +loathing the very sight of the man, he was, nevertheless, compelled to +tolerate his companionship to a certain extent, and could not well deny +him the _entree_ of his house. + +At first the subordinate bore himself with becoming meekness. Mock +humility it was, and soon so proved itself. For, as the days passed, +rumours reached the distant department of New Mexico that the old tyrant +Santa Anna was again returning to power. And, in proportion as these +gained strength, so increased Gil Uraga's confidence in himself, till at +length he assumed an air of effrontery--almost insolence--towards his +superior officer; and towards the sister, in the interviews he was +permitted with her, a manner significantly corresponding. + +These were few, and still less frequent, as his brusque behaviour began +to manifest itself. Observing it, Colonel Miranda at length came to the +determination that the lancer captain should no longer enter into his +house--at least, by invitation. Any future relations between them must +be in the strict execution of their respective military duties. + +"Yes, sister," he said, one afternoon, as Adela was buckling on his +sword-belt, and helping to equip him for the evening parade, "Uraga must +come here no more. I well understand the cause of his contumacious +behaviour. The priest party is again getting the ascendency. If they +succeed, heaven help poor Mexico. And, I may add, heaven help us!" + +Drawing the girl to his bosom with a fond affectionate embrace, he gave +her a brother's kiss. Then, striding forth, he sprang upon a saddled +horse held in waiting, and rode off to parade his troops on the _plaza_ +of Albuquerque. + +A ten minutes' trot brought him into their presence. They were not +drawn up in line, or other formation, to receive him. On the contrary, +as he approached the _cuartel_, he saw strange sights, and heard sounds +corresponding. Everything was in confusion--soldiers rushing to and +fro, uttering seditious cries. Among these were "Viva Santa Anna!" + +"Viva el General Armijo!" + +"Viva el _Coronel_ Uraga!" + +Beyond doubt it was a _pronunciamento_. The old regime under which +Colonel Miranda held authority was passing away, and a new one about to +be initiated. + +Drawing his sword and putting spur to his horse, he dashed in among the +disaffected men. + +A few of the faithful ran up, and ranged themselves by his side. + +Then commenced a struggle, with shouting, shooting, sabring, and +lance-thrusts. Several fell--some dead, some only disabled; among the +last, Colonel Miranda himself, gravely wounded. + +In ten minutes it was all over; and the commandant of Albuquerque, no +longer commanding, lay lodged in the garrison _carcel_; Captain Gil +Uraga, now colonel, replacing him as the supreme military officer of the +district. + +While all around ran the rumour that Don Antonio Lopes de Santa Anna was +once more master of Mexico; his satellite, Manuel Armijo, again Governor +of Santa Fe. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +"WHY COMES HE NOT?" + +"What delays Valerian? What can be keeping him?" + +These questions came from Adela Miranda, on the evening of that same +day, standing in the door of her brother's house, with eyes bent along +the road leading to Albuquerque. Valerian was her brother's baptismal +name, and it was about his absence she was anxious. + +For this she had reasons--more than one. Though still only a young +girl, she quite understood the political situation of the Mexican +Republic; at all times shifting, of late more critical than usual. In +her brother's confidence, she had been kept posted up in all that +transpired in the capital, as also the district over which he held +military command, and knew the danger of which he was himself +apprehensive--every day drawing nigher and nigher. + +Shortly after his leaving her she had heard shots, with a distant murmur +of voices, in the direction of the town. From the _azolea_, to which +she had ascended, she could note these noises more distinctly, but +fancied them to be salutes, vivas, and cheers. Still, there was nothing +much in that. It might be some jubilation of the soldiery at the +ordinary evening parade; and, remembering that the day was a _fiesta_, +she thought less of it. + +But, as night drew down, and her brother had not returned, she began to +feel some slight apprehension. He had promised to be back for a dinner +that was long since due--a repast she had herself prepared, more +sumptuous than common on account of the saint's day. This was it that +elicited the anxious self-asked interrogatories. + +After giving utterance to them, she paced backward and forward; now +standing in the portal and gazing along the road; now returning to the +_sola de comida_, to look upon the table, with cloth spread, wines +decantered, fruits and flowers on the epergne--all but the dishes that +waited serving till Valerian should show himself. + +To look on something besides--a portrait that hung upon the wall, +underneath her own. It was a small thing--a mere photographic +carte-de-visite. But it was the likeness of one who had a large place +in her brother's heart, if not in her own. In hers, how could it? It +was the photograph of a man she had never seen--Frank Hamersley. He had +left it with Colonel Miranda, as a souvenir of their short but friendly +intercourse. + +Did Colonel Miranda's sister regard it in that light? She could not in +any other. Still, as she gazed upon it, a thought was passing through +her mind somewhat different from a sentiment of simple friendship. Her +brother had told her all--the circumstances that led to his acquaintance +with Hamersley; of the duel, and in what a knightly manner the +Kentuckian had carried himself; adding his own commentaries in a very +flattering fashion. This, of itself, had been enough to pique curiosity +in a young girl, just escaped from her convent school; but added to the +outward semblance of the stranger, by the sun made lustrous--so lustrous +inwardly--Adela Miranda was moved by something more than curiosity. As +she stood regarding the likeness of Frank Hamersley she felt very much +as he had done looking at hers--in love with one only known by portrait +and repute. + +In such there is nothing strange nor new. Many a reader of this tale +could speak of a similar experience. + +While gazing on the carte-de-visite she was roused from the sweet +reverie it had called up by hearing footsteps outside. Someone coming +in through the _saggan_. + +"Valerian at last!" + +The steps sounded as if the man making them were in a hurry. So should +her brother be, having so long delayed his return. + +She glided out to meet him with an interrogatory on her lips. + +"Valerian?"--this suddenly changing to the exclamation, "_Madre de +Dios_! 'Tis not my brother!" + +It was not, but a man pale and breathless--a _peon_ of the +establishment--who, on seeing her, gasped out,-- + +"Senorita! I bring sad news. There's been a mutiny at the cuartel--a +_pronunciamento_. The rebels have had it all their own way, and I am +sorry to tell you that the colonel, your brother--" + +"What of him? Speak! Is he--" + +"Not killed, _nina_; only wounded, and a prisoner." + +Adela Miranda did not swoon nor faint. She was not of the nervous kind. +Nurtured amid dangers, most of her life accustomed to alarms from +Indian incursions, as well as revolutionary risings, she remained calm. + +She dispatched messengers to the town, secretly, one after another; and, +while awaiting their reports, knelt before an image of the Virgin, and +prayed. + +Up till midnight her couriers went, and came. Then one who was more +than a messenger--her brother himself! + +As already reported to her, he was wounded, and came accompanied by the +surgeon of the garrison, a friend. They arrived at the house in hot +haste, as if pursued. + +And they were so, as she soon after learnt. + +There was just time for Colonel Miranda to select the most cherished of +his _penates_; pack them on a _recua_ of mules, then mount, and make +away. + +They had scarce cleared the premises when the myrmidons of the new +commandant, led by the man himself, rode up and took possession of the +place. + +By this time, and by good luck, the ruffian was intoxicated--so drunk he +could scarce comprehend what was passing around him. It seemed like a +dream to him to be told that Colonel Miranda had got clear away; a more +horrid one to hear that she whom he designed for a victim had escaped +from his clutches. + +When morning dawned, and in soberer mood he listened to the reports of +those sent in pursuit--all telling the same tale of non-success--he +raved like one in a frenzy of madness. For the escape of the late +Commandant of Albuquerque had robbed him of two things--to him the +sweetest in life--one, revenge on the man he heartily hated; the other, +possession of the woman he passionately loved. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +SURROUNDED. + +A plain of pure sand, glaring red-yellow under the first rays of the +rising sun; towards the east and west apparently illimitable, but +interrupted northward by a chain of table-topped hills, and along its +southern edge by a continuous cliff, rising wall-like to the height of +several hundred feet, and trending each way beyond the verge of vision. + +About half-distance between this prolonged escarpment and the outlying +hills six large "Conestoga" waggons, locked tongue and tail together, +enclosing a lozenge-shaped or elliptical space--a _corral_--inside which +are fifteen men and five horses. + +Only ten of the men are living; the other five are dead, their bodies +lying a-stretch between the wheels of the waggons. Three of the horses +have succumbed to the same fate. + +Outside are many dead mules; several still attached to the protruding +poles, that have broken as their bodies fell crashing across them. +Fragments of leather straps and cast gearing tell of others that have +torn loose, and scoured off from the perilous spot. + +Inside and all around are traces of a struggle--the ground scored and +furrowed by the hoofs of horses, and the booted feet of men, with here +and there little rivulets and pools of blood. This, fast filtering into +the sand, shows freshly spilled--some of it still smoking. + +All the signs tell of recent conflict. And so should they, since it is +still going on, or only suspended to recommence a new scene of the +strife, which promises to be yet more terrible and sanguinary than that +already terminated. + +A tragedy easy of explanation. There is no question about why the +waggons have been stopped, or how the men, mules, and horses came to be +killed. Distant about three hundred yards upon the sandy plain are +other men and horses, to the number of near two hundred. Their +half-naked bodies of bronze colour, fantastically marked with devices in +chalk-white, charcoal-black, and vermillion red--their buckskin +breech-clouts and leggings, with plumes sticking tuft-like above their +crowns--all these insignia show them to be Indians. + +It is a predatory band of the red pirates, who have attacked a +travelling party of whites--no new spectacle on the prairies. + +They have made the first onslaught, which was intended to stampede the +caravan, and at once capture it. This was done before daybreak. Foiled +in the attempt, they are now laying siege to it, having surrounded it on +all sides at a distance just beyond range of the rifles of those +besieged. Their line forms the circumference of a circle of which the +waggon clump is the centre. It is not very regularly preserved, but +ever changing, ever in motion, like some vast constricting serpent that +has thrown its body into a grand coil around its victim, to close when +ready to give the fatal squeeze. + +In this case the victim appears to have no hope of escape--no +alternative but to succumb. + +That the men sheltered behind the waggons have not "gone under" at the +first onslaught is significative of their character. Of a surety they +are not common emigrants, crossing the prairies on their way to a new +home. Had they been so, they could not have "corralled" their unwieldy +vehicles with such promptitude; for they had started from their night +camp, and the attack was made while the train was in motion--advantage +being taken of their slow drag through the soft, yielding sand. And had +they been but ordinary emigrants they would not have stood so stoutly on +the defence, and shown such an array of dead enemies around them. For +among the savages outside can be seen at least a score of lifeless forms +lying prostrate upon the plain. + +For the time, there is a suspension of hostilities. The red men, +disappointed by the failure of their first charge, have retreated back +to a safe distance. The death-dealing bullets of the whites, of which +they have had fatal proof, hold them there. + +But the pause is not likely to be for long, as their gestures indicate. +On one side of the circle a body of them clumped together hold counsel. +Others gallop around it, bearing orders and instructions that evidently +relate to a changed plan of attack. With so much blood before their +eyes, and the bodies of their slain comrades, it is not likely they will +retire from the ground. In their shouts there is a ring of resolved +vengeance, which promises a speedy renewal of the attack. + +"Who do you think they are?" asks Frank Hamersley, the proprietor of the +assaulted caravan. "Are they Comanches, Walt?" + +"Yis, Kimanch," answers the individual thus addressed; "an' the wust +kind o' Kimanch. They're a band o' the cowardly Tenawas. I kin tell by +thar bows. Don't ye see that thar's two bends in 'em?" + +"I do." + +"Wal, that's the sort o' bow the Tenawas carry--same's the Apash." + +"The Indians on this route were reported friendly. Why have they +attacked us, I wonder?" + +"Injuns ain't niver friendly--not Tenawas. They've been riled +considerably of late by the Texans on the Trinity. Besides, I reck'n I +kin guess another reezun. It's owin' to some whites as crossed this way +last year. Thar war a scrimmage atween them and the redskins, in the +which some squaws got kilt--I mout say murdered. Thar war some Mexikins +along wi' the whites, an' it war them that did it. An' now we've got to +pay for their cussed crooked conduk." + +"What's best for us to do?" + +"Thar's no best, I'm afeerd. I kin see no chance 'cept to fight it out +to the bitter eend. Thar's no mercy in them yells--ne'er a morsel o' +it." + +"What do they intend doing next, think you?" + +"Jest yet 'taint easy to tell. Thar's somethin' on foot among 'em--some +darned Injun trick. Clar as I kin see, that big chief wi' the red cross +on his ribs, air him they call the Horned Lizard; an' ef it be, thar +ain't a cunniner coon on all this contynent. He's sharp enough to +contrive some tight trap for us. The dose we've gin the skunks may keep +'em off for a while--not long, I reck'n. Darnation! Thar's five o' our +fellows wiped out already. It looks ugly, an' like enuf we've all got +to go under." + +"Don't you think our best way will be to make a dash for it, and try to +cut through them. If we stay here they'll starve us out. We haven't +water enough in the waggons to give us a drink apiece." + +"I know all that, an' hev thort o' 't. But you forget about our hosses. +Thar's only two left alive--yours and myen. All the rest air shot or +stampedoed. Thurfor, but two o' us would stand a chance o' gettin' +clar, an' it slim enough." + +"You are right, Walt; I did not think of that I won't forsake the men, +even if assured of my own safety--never!" + +"Nobody as knows you, Frank Hamersley, need be tolt that." + +"Boys!" cries out Hamersley, in a voice that can be heard all through +the corral; "I needn't tell you that we're in a fix, and a bad one. +There's no help for us but to fight it out. And if we must die, let us +die together." + +A response from eight voices coming from different sides--for those +watching the movements of the enemy are posted round the enclosure-- +tells there is not a craven among them. Though only teamsters, they are +truly courageous men--most of them natives of Kentucky and Tennessee. + +"In any case," continues the owner of the caravan, "we must hold our +ground till night. In the darkness there may be some chance of our +being able to steal past them." + +These words have scarce passed the lips of the young prairie merchant, +when their effect is counteracted by an exclamation. It comes from Walt +Wilder, who has been acting as guide to the party. + +"Dog-goned!" he cries; "not the shadder o' a chance. They ain't goin' +to give us till night. I knewed the Horned Lizard 'ud be after some +trick." + +"What?" inquire several voices. + +"Look whar that lot's stannin' out yonder. Can't ye guess what they're +at, Frank Hamersley?" + +"No. I only see that they have bows in their hands." + +"An' arrers, too. Don't you obsarve them wroppin' somethin' round the +heads o' the arrers--looks like bits o' rags? Aye, rags it air, sopped +in spittles and powder. They're agoin' to set the waggons afire! They +air, by God!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +FIERY MESSENGERS. + +The teamsters, each of whom is watching the post assigned to him, +despite the danger, already extreme, see fresh cause of alarm in +Wilder's words. Some slight hope had hitherto upheld them. Under the +protection of the waggons they might sustain a siege, so long as their +ammunition lasts; and before it gave out some chance, though they cannot +think what, might turn up in their favour. It was a mere reflection +founded on probabilities still unscrutinised--the last tenacious +struggle before hope gives way to utter and palpable despair. +Hamersley's words had for an instant cheered them; for the thought of +the Indians setting fire to the waggons had not occurred to any of the +party. It was a thing unknown to their experience; and, at such a +distance, might be supposed impossible. + +But, as they now look around them, and note the canvas tilts, and light +timbers, dry as chips from long exposure to the hot prairie sun; the +piles of dry goods--woollen blankets, cotton, and silk stuffs--intended +for the stores of Chihuahua, some of which they have hastily pulled from +their places to form protecting barricades--when they see all this, and +then the preparations the Indians are engaged in making, no wonder that +they feel dismay on Walt Wilder shouting out, "They're agoin' to set the +waggons afire!" + +The announcement, although carrying alarm, conveys no counsel. Even +their guide, with a life-long experience on the prairies, is at a loss +how they ought to act in this unexpected emergency. In the waggons +water there is none--at least not enough to drown out a conflagration +such as that threatened; and from the way the assailants are gesturing +the traders can predict that ere long, a shower of fiery shafts will be +sent into their midst. None of them but have knowledge sufficient to +admonish them of what is intended. Even if they had never set foot upon +a prairie, their school stories and legends of early life would tell +them. They have all read, or heard, of arrows with tinder tied around +their barbs, on fire and spitting sparks, or brightly ablaze. + +If any are ignorant of this sort of missile, or the mode of dispatching +it on its mischievous errand, their ignorance is not destined longer to +continue. Almost as soon as Wilder has given utterance to the warning +words, half a score of the savages can be seen springing to the backs of +their horses, each bearing a bow with a bunch of the prepared arrows. +And before a single preventive step can be taken by the besieged +traders, or any counsel exchanged between them, the pyrotechnic display +has commenced. + +The bowmen gallop in circles around the besieged enclosure, their bodies +concealed behind those of their horses--only a leg and an arm seen, or +now and then a face for an instant, soon withdrawn. Not exactly in +circles but in spiral rings--at each turn drawing closer and nearer, +till the true distance is attained for casting the inflammatory shafts. + +"Stand to your guns, men!" is the hurried command of the guide, backed +by a kind of encouragement from the proprietor of the caravan. + +"Now, boys!" adds the guide, "ye've got to look out for squalls. Keep +two an' two of ye thegither. While one brings down the hoss, t' other +take care o' the rider as he gits unkivered. Make sure afore ye pull +trigger, an' don't waste so much as the snappin' o' a cap. Thar goes +the first o' the fire works!" + +As Wilder speaks, a spark is seen to shoot out from one of the circling +cavaliers, which rising rocket-like into the air, comes in parabolic +curve towards the corral. + +It falls short some twenty yards and lies smoking and sputtering in the +sand. + +"They han't got thar range yit," cries the guide; "but this child hez +got his--leastwise for that skunk on the clay-bank mustang. So hyar +goes to rub him off o' the list o' fire shooters." + +And simultaneous with the last word is heard the crack of Wilder's +rifle. + +The young prairie merchant by his side, supposing him to have aimed only +at the Indian's horse, has raised his own gun, ready to take the rider +as soon as uncovered. + +"No need, Frank," shouts the guide, restraining him. "Walt Wilder don't +waste two charges o' powder that way. Keep yur bullet for the karkidge +o' the next as comes 'ithin range. Look yonder! I know'd I'd fetch him +out o' his stirrups--tight as he's tried to cling to 'em. Thar he goes +to grass!" + +Hamersley, as the others on the same side of the corral, were under the +belief that the shot had been a miss; for the Indian at whom it was +aimed still stuck to his horse, and was carried for some distance on in +curving career. Nor did the animal show any sign of having been hit. +But the rider did. While engaged in the effort of sending his arrow, +the savage had exposed his face, one arm, and part of the other. Ere he +could withdraw them, Walt's bullet had struck the arm that supported +him, breaking the bone close to the elbow-joint. He has clung on with +the tenacity of a shot squirrel, knowing that to let go will be certain +death to him. But, despite all his efforts, the crippled arm fails to +sustain him; and, with a despairing cry, he at length tumbles to the +ground. Before he can rise to his feet, his body is bored by a leaden +messenger from one of the men watching on that side, which lays him +lifeless along the sand. + +No cheer of triumph ascends from among the waggons; the situation of +those who defend them is too serious for any idle exhibition. The man +who has fired the last shot only hastens to re-load, while the others +remain mute and motionless--each on the look-out for a like opportunity. + +The fall of their comrade has taught the freebooters a lesson, and for a +time they make their approach with more caution. But the shouts of +those standing spectators in the outer circle stimulate them to fresh +efforts, as the slightest show of cowardice would surely cause them to +be taunted. Those entrusted with the fiery arrows are all young +warriors, chosen for this dangerous service, or volunteers to perform +it. The eyes of their chief, and the braves of the tribe, are upon +them. They are thirsting for glory, and hold their lives as of little +account, in the face of an achievement that will gain them the +distinction most coveted by an Indian youth--that which will give him +rank as a warrior, and perhaps some day raise him to a chieftaincy. + +Stimulated by this thought, they soon forget the check caused by the +fall of their comrade; and, laying aside caution, ride nearer and +nearer, till their arrows, one after another, hurtle through the air, +and dropping like a continuous shower of spent rocket-sticks upon the +covers of the corralled waggons. + +Several of them fall to shots from the barricade, but then places are +supplied by fresh volunteers from the outer circle; and the sparkling +shower is kept up, till a curl of smoke is seen soaring above the white +tilts of the waggons, and soon after others at different places and on +different sides of the enclosure. + +As yet the besieged have not seen this. The powder-smoke puffing up +from their own guns, discharged in quick repetition, obscures everything +in a thick, sulphurous cloud; so that even the white covers of the +waggons are scarce distinguishable, much less the spots where it has +commenced smoking. + +Not long, however, till something besides smoke makes itself visible, as +also audible. Here and there flames flicker up, with a sharp crackling +noise, which continues. The one is not flashes from the guns, nor the +other a snapping of percussion-caps. + +Wilder, with eyes turning to all points, is the first to perceive this. + +"We're on fire, boys!" he vociferates; "on fire everywhar!" + +"Great God! yes! What are we to do?" several ask, despairingly. + +"What air we to do?" shouts the guide, in response. "What kin we do, +but fight it out to the death, an' then die! So let us die, not like +dogs, but as men--as Americans!" + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +KNIFE, PISTOL, AND HATCHET. + +The brave words had scarce passed from Walt Wilder's lips when the +waggons became enveloped in a cloud of smoke. From all sides it rolled +into the corral till those inside could no longer see one another. + +Still through the obscurity rang their cries of mutual encouragement, +repeating the determination so tersely expressed. + +They knew they had no water by which to extinguish the fast-threatening +flames; yet in that moment of emergency they thought of an expedient. +There were shovels in the waggons; and laying hold of these, they +commenced flinging sand over the places that had caught fire, with the +intent to smother the incipient blaze. Left alone, and with time, they +might have succeeded. But they were not left alone, for the savages, +seeing the advantage they had gained, were now fast closing for a final +charge upon the corral, and the implements of industry had to be +abandoned. + +These were thrown despairingly aside; and the besieged, once more +grasping their rifles, sprang back into the waggons--each with eager eye +searching for an assailant. Though themselves half blinded by the +smoke, they could still see the enemy outside; for the Indians, grown +confident by the _coup_ they had made, were now riding recklessly near. +Quick came the reports of rifles--faster and more frequent than ever; +fast as ten men, all practised marksmen, could load and fire. In less +than sixty seconds nearly a score of savages dropped to the +death-dealing bullets, till the plain appeared strewn with dead bodies. + +But the crisis had come--the time for a general charge of the whole +band; and now the dusky outside ring was seen gradually contracting +towards the corral--the savages advancing from all sides, some on foot, +others on horseback, all eager to secure the trophy of a scalp. + +On they came, violently gesticulating, and uttering wild vengeful +shouts. + +With the besieged it was a moment for despair. The waggons were on fire +all around them, and in several places flames were beginning to flicker +up through the smoke. They no longer thought of making any attempt to +extinguish them. They knew it would be idle. + +Did they think of surrender? No--not a man of them. That would have +been equally idle. In the voices of the advancing foe there was not an +accent of mercy. + +Surrender! And be slain afterwards! Before which to be tortured, +perhaps dragged at the horse's tail, or set up as a target for the +Tenawa sharpshooters to practise at. No! They would have to die +anyhow. Better now than then. They were not the men to offer both +cheeks to the insulter. They could resign sweet life, but death would +be all the sweeter with corpses of Indians lying thickly around them. +They would first make a hecatomb of their hated foes, and then fall upon +it. That is the sort of death preferred by the prairie man--hunter, +trapper, or trader--glorious to him as the cannon-furrowed field to the +soldier. That is the sort of death of which Walt Wilder spoke when he +said, "Let us die, not like dogs, but as men--as Americans!" + +By this time the smoke had completely enveloped the waggons, the +enclosed space between, and a fringe of some considerable width around +them. But a still darker ring was all around--the circle of savage +horsemen, who from all sides were galloping up and dismounting to make +surer work of the slaughter. The warriors jostled one another as they +pressed forward afoot, each thirsting for a scalp. + +The last throe of the conflict had come. It was no longer to be a duel +at a distance--no more a contest between rifle-bullets and barbed +arrows; but the close, desperate, hand-to-hand contest of pistol, knife, +spear, club, and hatchet. + +The ten white men--none of them yet _hors de combat_--knew well what was +before them. Not one of them blanched or talked of backing. They did +not even think of surrender. It would have been too late to sue for +mercy, had they been so inclined. + +But they were not. Attacked without provocation, and treacherously, as +they had been, their fury was stronger than their fear; and anger now +nerved them to frenzied energy of action. + +The savages had already closed around the waggons, clustering upon the +wheels, some like snakes, wriggling through the spaces left undefended. +Rifles ceased to ring; but pistols cracked--repeating pistols, that +dealt death at every shot, sending redskin after redskin to the happy +hunting grounds. And by the pistol's flash blades were seen gleaming +through the smoke--now bright, anon dimmed, and dripping blood. + +For every white man that fell, at least three red ones went down upon +the sand. + +The unequal contest could not long continue. Scarce ten minutes did it +last, and but for the obscuring smoke five would have finished it. This +was in favour of the assailed, enabling them to act with advantage +against the assailants. Such a quick, wholesale slaughter did the white +men make with their revolvers that the savages, surprised and staggered +by it, for a moment recoiled, and appeared as if again going to retreat. + +They did not--they dared not. Their superior numbers--the shame of +being defeated by such a handful of foes--the glory of conquest--and, +added to it, an angry vengeance now hot in their hearts--all urged them +on; and the attack was renewed with greater earnestness than ever. + +Throughout every scene in the strife Frank Hamersley had comported +himself with a courage that made his men feel less fear of death, and +less regret to die by his side. Fighting like a lion, he had been here, +and there, and everywhere. He had done his full share of slaving. + +It was all in vain. Though standing in the midst of thick smoke, +unseeing and unseen, he knew that most of his faithful men had fallen. +He was admonished of this by their less frequent responses to his cries +of encouragement, telling him the struggle was close upon its +termination. No wonder his fury was fast giving place to despair. But +it was no craven fear, nor any thought of escape. His determination not +to be taken alive was strong as ever. + +His hand still firmly clasped his bowie-knife, its blade dripping with +the blood of more than one enemy; for into the body of more than one had +he plunged it. He clutched it with the determination still farther to +kill--to take yet another life before parting with his own. + +It was hopeless, useless slaughter; but it was sweet. Almost insane +with anger, he thought it sweet. + +Three dusky antagonists lay dead at his feet, and he was rushing across +the corral in search of a fourth. A giant figure loomed up before him, +looking more gigantic from the magnifying effect of the smoke. It was +not that of a savage; it was Walt Wilder. + +"Dead beat!" hoarsely and hurriedly muttered the guide. "We must go +under, Frank. We're boun' to go under, if we don't--" + +"Don't what, Walt?" + +"Git away from hyar." + +"Impossible." + +"No. Thar's still a chance, I think--for us two anyways. There ain't +many o' the others left, an' ef thar war, we can't do 'em any good now. +Our stayin' 'ud be no use--no use dyin' along wi' 'em; while ef we get +clar, we mout live to revenge 'em. Don't ye see our two horses are +still safe? Thar they air, cowerin' clost in agin one o' the waggons. +'Tain't much kit? I admit; still thar's a shadder. Come, Frank, and +let's try it." + +Hamersley hesitated. It was at thought of deserting even the last of +his faithful followers, who had sacrificed, or were still sacrificing, +their lives in his service. But, as the guide had truly said what good +could he do them by staying and getting killed? And he might survive to +avenge them! + +The last reflection would have decided him! But Wilder had not waited +for him to determine. While speaking the urgent words, he laid his huge +hand upon Hamersley's shoulder and half led, half dragged him in the +direction of the horses. "Keep hold o' yur rifle, though it air empty," +hurriedly counselled the guide. "If we shed get away, it will be +needed. We mout as well go under hyar as be upon the pararira without a +gun. Now mount!" + +Almost mechanically the young Kentuckian climbed upon the back of the +horse nearest to him--his own. The guide had not yet mounted his; but, +as could be seen through the smoke, was leaning against the wheel of one +of the waggons. In an instant after Hamersley perceived that the +vehicle was in motion, and could hear a slight grating noise as the tire +turned in the sand. The great Conestoga, with its load had yielded to +the strength of the Colossus. + +In another instant he had sprung upon his horse's back and riding close +to Hamersley, muttered in his ear, "Now I've opened a crack atween two +o' the wehicles. Let's cut out through it. We kin keep in the kiver o' +the smoke as far as it'll screen us. You foller, an' see that ye don't +lose sight o' me. If we must go under in the eend, let it be out on the +open plain, an' not shut up hyar like badgers in a barr'l. Follow me +clost, Frank. Now or niver!" + +Almost mechanically the young Kentuckian yielded obedience; and in ten +seconds after the two horsemen had cleared the waggon clump, with the +shouting crowd that encircled it and were going at full gallop across +the sand-strewn plain. + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +QUARRELLING OVER SCALPS. + +Nearly simultaneous with the departure of the two horsemen came the +closing scene of the conflict. Indeed it ended on the instant of their +riding off. For of their comrades left behind there was not one upon +his feet--not one able to fire another shot, or strike another blow. +All lay dead, or wounded, among the waggons; some of the dead, as the +wounded, clasping the handle of a knife whose blade reeked with blood, +or a pistol from whose muzzle the smoke was still oozing. + +But soon among the whites there were no wounded, for the hovering host, +having closed in from all sides, leaped from their horses, swarmed over +the barrier between, tomahawking the last that showed signs of life, or +thrusting them with their long lances, and pinning them to the sand. +Through the body of every white man at least a half-dozen spear-blades +were passed, while a like number of savages stood exultingly over, or +danced triumphantly around it. + +And now ensued a scene that might be symbolised only among wild beasts +or fiends in the infernal regions. It was a contest for possession of +the scalps of those who had fallen--each of the victors claiming one. +Some stood with bared blades ready to peel them off, while others held +out hands and weapons to prevent it. From the lips of the competitors +came shouts and expostulations, while their eyes flashed fire, and their +arms rose and fell in furious gesticulations. + +Amidst their demoniac jargon could be heard a voice louder than all, +thundering forth a command. It was to desist from their threatening +strife and extinguish the flames that still flared up over the waggons. +He who spoke was the one with the red cross upon his breast, its bars of +bright vermilion gleaming like fire against the sombre background of his +skin. He was the chief of the Tenawa Comanches--the Horned Lizard--as +Wilder had justly conjectured. + +And as their chief he was instantly obeyed. The wranglers, one and all, +promptly suspended their disputes; and flinging their weapons aside, at +once set to carrying out his orders. + +Seizing upon the shovels, late dropped from the hands of their now +lifeless antagonists, and plying them to better purpose, they soon +smothered the flame, and the smoke too, till only a thin drift stole up +through the sand thrown thickly over it. + +Meanwhile a man, in appearance somewhat differing from the rest, was +seen moving among them. + +Indian in garb and guise, savage in his accoutrements, as the colour of +his skin, he nevertheless, showed features more resembling races that +are civilised. His countenance was of a cast apparently Caucasian, its +lineaments unlike those of the American aboriginal; above all, unlike in +his having a heavy beard, growing well forward upon his cheeks, and +bushing down below the chin. + +True, that among the Comanche Indians bearded men are occasionally met +with--_mestizos_, the descendants of renegade whites. But none paraded +as he, who now appeared stalking around the ruined caravan. And there +was another individual by his side, who had also hair upon his cheeks, +though thinner and more straggling; while the speech passing between the +two was not the guttural tongue of the Tenawa Comanches, but pure +Mexican Spanish. + +Both were on foot, having dismounted; he with the heavy beard leading, +the other keeping after as if in attendance. + +The former flitted from one to another of those who lay slain; in turn +stooping over each corpse, and scrutinising it--to some giving but a +cursory glance, to others more careful examination--then leaving each +with an air of disappointment, and a corresponding exclamation. + +At length, after going the complete round of the dead, he faced towards +his satellite, saying,-- + +"_Por dios_! he don't appear to be among them! What can it mean? There +could be no doubt of his intention to accompany the caravan. Here it +is, and here we are; but where is he? _Carajo_! If he has escaped me, +I shall feel as if I'd had all this trouble for nothing." + +"Think of the precious plunder," rejoined the other. "These grand +_carretas_ are loaded with rich goods. Surely they don't count for +nothing." + +"A fig for the goods! I'd give more for his scalp than all the silks +and satins that were ever carried to Santa Fe. Not that I'd care to +keep such a trifle. The Horned Lizard will be welcome to it, soon as I +see it stripped from his skull. That's what I want to see. But where +is it? Where is he? Certainly not among these. There isn't one of +them the least like him. Surely it must be his party, spoken of in his +letter? No other has been heard of coming by this route. There they +lie, all stark and staring--men, mules, and horses--all but him." + +The smoke has thinned off, only a thin film still wafting about the +waggons, whose canvas tilts, now consumed, expose their contents--some +of them badly burnt, some but slightly scorched. The freebooters have +commenced to drag out boxes and bales, their chief by a stern command +having restrained them from returning to take the scalps of the slain. +All has been the work of only a few moments--less than ten minutes of +time--for it is scarce so much since Wilder and Hamersley, stealing out +between the wheels, rode off under cover of the cloud. + +By this he with the beard, speaking Spanish, has ceased to scrutinise +the corpses, and stands facing his inferior, his countenance showing an +air of puzzled disappointment, as proclaimed by his repeated speeches. + +Once again he gives speech to his perplexity, exclaiming: + +"_Demonios_! I don't understand it. Is it possible that any of them +can have got away?" + +As he puts the question there comes a shout from outside, seeming to +answer it. For it is a cry half in lamentation--a sort of wail, +altogether unlike the charging war-whoop of the Comanches. Acquainted +with their signals, he knows that the one he has heard tells of an enemy +trying to escape. + +Hurrying outside the corral, he sees two mounted men, nearly a mile off, +making in the direction of the cliffs. And nearer, a score of other +men, in the act of mounting, these being Indians, who have just caught +sight of the fugitives, and are starting to pursue. + +More eager than any, he rushes direct to his horse, and, having reached, +bestrides him at a spring. Then, plunging deep the spur, he dashed off +across the plain towards the point where the two men are seen making +away. Who both may be he knows not, nor of one need he care; but of one +he does, feeling sure it is the same for whom he has been searching +among the slain. + +"Not dead yet, but soon shall be!" + +So mutters he, as with clenched teeth, bridle tight-drawn, and fingers +firmly clasping the butt of a double-barrelled pistol, he spurs on after +the two horsemen, who, heading straight for the cliff, seem as if they +had no chance to escape; for their pursuers are closing after them in a +cloud, dark as the dreaded "norther" that sweeps over the Texan desert, +with shout symbolising the clangour that accompanies it. + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +A BRAVE STEED ABANDONED. + +In making his bold dash, Walt Wilder was not acting without a +preconceived plan. He had one. The smoke, with its covering cloud, +might be the means of concealment, and ultimate salvation; at all +events, it would cover their retreat long enough to give them a start of +the pursuers, and then the speed of their horses might possibly be +depended upon for the rest. + +They at first followed this plan, but unfortunately soon found that it +would not long avail them. The smoke was not drifting in the right +direction. The breeze carried it almost straight towards the line of +the cliffs, while their only chance was to strike for the open plain. +At the cliffs their flight would be stopped. + +So far the smoke had favoured them. Thick and stifling in the immediate +vicinity of the waggons, it enabled them to slip unobserved through the +ruck of savages. Many of these, still mounted, had seen them pass +outward, but through the blue film had mistaken them for two of their +own men. They perhaps knew nothing of there having been horses inside +the corral, and did not expect to see any of their caged enemies +attempting to escape in that way. Besides, they were now busy +endeavouring to extinguish the fires, all resistance being at an end. + +As yet there was no sign of pursuit, and the fugitives rode up with the +projecting _nimbus_ around them. In the soft sand their horses' hoofs +made no noise, and they galloped towards the cliff silent as spectres. + +On reaching its base, it became necessary for them either to change the +direction of their flight, or bring it to a termination. The bluff +towered vertically above them, like a wall of rude masonwork. A cat +could not have scaled it, much less horse, or man. They did not think +of making the attempt. + +And now, what were they to do? Ride out from the smoke-cloud, or remain +under its favouring shelter? In either case they were sure of being +discovered and pursued. It would soon clear off, and they would be seen +from the waggons. Already it was fast thinning around them; the Indians +having nearly extinguished the fires in order to save the treasure, +which had no doubt been their chief object for attacking the caravan. +Soon there would be no smoke--and then? + +The pursued men stayed not to reflect further. Delay would only add to +their danger; and with this thought urging them on, they wheeled their +horses to the left, and headed along the line of the bluff. Six seconds +after they were riding in a pure atmosphere, under clear dazzling +sunlight. + +But it gave them no delight. A yell from the savages told them they +were seen, and simultaneously with the shout, they perceived a score of +horsemen spurring from the crowd, and riding at full speed towards them. + +They were both splendidly mounted, and might still have had a fair +chance of escape; but now another sight met their eyes that once more +almost drove them to despair. + +A promontory of the cliff, stretching far out over the sandy plain, lay +directly in their track. Its point was nearer to the pursuers than to +them. Before they could reach, and turn it, their retreat would be +intercepted. + +Was there still a chance to escape in the opposite direction? + +Again suddenly turning, they galloped back as they had come; again +entered the belt of smoke; and, riding on through it, reached the clear +sunlight beyond. + +Again a torturing disappointment. Another promontory--twin to the +first--jutted out to obstruct them. + +There was no mystery in the matter. They saw the mistake they had made. +In escaping under cover of the cloud they had gone too far, ridden +direct into a deep embayment of the cliff! + +Their pursuers, who had turned promptly as they, once more had the +advantage. The outlying point of rocks was nearer to them, and they +would be almost certain to arrive at it first. + +To the fugitives there appeared no alternative but to ride on, and take +the chance of hewing their way through the savages surrounding--for +certainly they would be surrounded. + +"Git your knife riddy, Frank!" shouted Wilder, as he dug his heels into +his horse's side and put the animal to full speed. "Let's keep close +thegither--livin' or dead, let's keep thegither!" + +Their steeds needed no urging. To an American horse accustomed to the +prairies there is no spur like the yell of an Indian; for he knows that +along with it usually comes the shock of a bullet, or the sting of a +barbed shaft. + +Both bounded off together, and went over the soft sand, silent, but +swift as the wind. + +In vain. Before they could reach the projecting point, the savages had +got up, and were clustering around it. At least a score, with spears +couched, bows bent, and clubs brandishing, stood ready to receive them. + +It was a gauntlet the pursued men might well despair of being able to +run. Truly now seemed their retreat cut off, and surely did death +appear to stare them in the face. + +"We must die, Walt," said the young prairie merchant, as he faced +despairingly toward his companion. + +"Maybe not yet," answered Wilder, as with a searching glance, he +directed his eye along the facade of the cliff. + +The red sandstone rose rugged and frowning, full five hundred feet +overhead. To the superficial glance it seemed to forbid all chance +either of being scaled, or affording concealment. There was not even a +boulder below, behind which they might find a momentary shelter from the +shafts of the pursuers. For all that, Wilder continued to scan it, as +if recalling some old recollection. + +"This must be the place," he muttered. "It is, by God!" he added more +emphatically, at the same time wrenching his horse around, riding sharp +off, and calling to his companion to follow him. + +Hamersley obeyed, and rode after, without knowing what next. But, in +another instant, he divined the intent of this sudden change in the +tactics of his fellow fugitive. For before riding far his eyes fell +upon a dark list, which indicated an opening in the escarpment. + +It was a mere crack, or chine, scarce so wide as a doorway, and barely +large enough to admit a man on horseback; though vertically it traversed +the cliff to its top, splitting it from base to summit. + +"Off o' yur hoss!" cried Wilder, as he pulled up in front of it, at the +same time flinging himself from his own. "Drop the bridle, and leave +him behint. One o' 'em'll be enough for what I want, an' let that be +myen. Poor critter, it air a pity! But it can't be helped. We must +hev some kiver to screen us. Quick, Frank, or the skunks will be on to +us!" + +Painful as it was to abandon his brave steed, Hamersley did as directed +without knowing why. The last speeches of the guide were somewhat +enigmatical, though he presumed they meant an important signification. + +Slipping down from his saddle, he stood by his horse's side, a noble +steed, the best blood of his own State, Kentucky, famed for its fine +stock. The animal appeared to know that its master was about to part +from it. It turned its head towards him; and, with bent neck, and +steaming nostrils, gave utterance to a low neigh that, while proclaiming +affection, seemed to say, "Why do you forsake me?" + +Under other circumstances the Kentuckian would have shed tears. For +months he and his horse had been as man and man together in many a long +prairie journey--a companionship which unites the traveller to his steed +in liens strong as human friendship, almost as lasting, and almost as +painful to break. So Frank Hamersley felt, as he flung the bridle back +on the animal's withers--still retaining hold of the rein, loth to +relinquish it. + +But there was no alternative. Behind were the shouting pursuers quickly +coming on. He could see their brandished spears glancing in the sun +glare. They would soon be within reach, thrusting through his body; +their barbed blades piercing him between the ribs. + +No time for sentiment nor dallying now, without the certainty of being +slain. + +He gave one last look at his steed, and then letting go the rein, turned +away, as one who, by stern necessity, abandons a friend, fearing +reproach for what he does, but without the power to explain it. + +For a time the abandoned steed kept its place, with glances inquiringly +sent after the master who had forsaken it. Then, as the yelling crew +came closer behind, it threw up its head, snorted, and tore off with +trailing bridle. + +Hamersley had turned to the guide, now also afoot, but still retaining +hold of his horse, which he was conducting towards the crack in the +cliff, with all his energies forcing it to follow him; for the animal +moved reluctantly, as though suspecting danger inside the darksome +cleft. + +Still urging it on, he shouted back to the Kentuckian, "You go first, +Frank! Up into the kanyon, without losin' a second's time. Hyar, take +my gun, an' load both, whiles I see to the closin' o' the gap." + +Seizing both guns in his grasp, Hamersley sprang into the chine, +stopping when he got well within its grim jaws. + +Wilder went after, leading his steed, that still strained back upon the +bridle. + +There was a large stone across the aperture, over which the horse had to +straddle. This being above two feet in height, when the animal had got +its forelegs over Wilder checked it to a stand. Hitherto following him +with forced obedience, it now trembled, and showed a strong +determination to go back. There was an expression, in its owner's eye +it had never seen before--something that terribly frayed it. But it +could not now do this, though ever so inclined. With its ribs close +pressing the rocks on each side, it was unable to turn; while the bridle +drawn firmly in front hindered it from retiring. + +Hamersley, busily engaged in loading the rifles, nevertheless found time +to glance at Wilder's doings, wondering what he was about. + +"It air a pity!" soliloquised the latter, repeating his former words in +similar tones of commiseration. "F'r all that, the thing must be done. +If thar war a rock big enough, or a log, or anythin'. No! thar ain't +ne'er another chance to make kiver. So hyar goes for a bit o' +butcherin'." + +As the guide thus delivered himself, Hamersley saw him jerk the bowie +knife from his belt, its blade red and still reeking with human gore. +In another instant its edge was drawn across the throat of the horse, +from which the blood gushed forth in a thick, strong stream, like water +from the spout of a pump. The creature made a last desperate effort to +get off, but with its forelegs over the rocks and head held down between +them, it could not stir from the spot. After a convulsive throe or two, +it sank down till its ribs rested upon the straddled stone; and in this +attitude it ended its life, the head after a time drooping down, the +eyes apparently turned with a last reproachful look upon the master who +had murdered it! + +"It hed to be did; thar war no help for it," said Wilder, as he +hurriedly turned towards his companion, adding: "Have you got the guns +charged?" + +Hamersley made answer by handing him back his own rifle. It was loaded +and ready. "Darn the stinkin' cowarts!" cried the guide, grasping the +gun, and facing towards the plain. "I don't know how it may all eend, +but this'll keep 'em off a while, anyhow." + +As he spoke he threw himself behind the body of the slaughtered steed, +which, sustained in an upright position between the counterpart walls, +formed a safe barricade against the bullets and arrows of the Indians. +These, now riding straight towards the spot, made the rocks resound with +exclamations of surprise--shouts that spoke of a delayed, perhaps +defeated, vengeance. + +They took care, however, not to come within range of that long +steel-grey tube, that, turning like a telescope on its pivot, commanded +a semicircle of at least a hundred yards' radius round the opening in +the cliff. + +Despite all the earnestness of their vengeful anger, the pursuers were +now fairly at bay, and for a time could be kept so. + +Hamersley looked upon it as being but a respite--a mere temporary +deliverance from danger, yet to terminate in death. True, they had got +into a position where, to all appearance, they could defend themselves +as long as their ammunition lasted, or as they could withstand the agony +of thirst or the cravings of hunger. How were they to get out again? +As well might they have been besieged in a cave, with no chance of +sortie or escape. + +These thoughts he communicated to his companion, as soon as they found +time to talk. + +"Hunger an' thirst ain't nothin' to do wi' it," was Wilder response. +"We ain't a goin' to stay hyar not twenty minutes, if this child kin +manage it as he intends ter do. You don't s'pose I rushed into this +hyar hole like a chased rabbit? No, Frank; I've heern o' this place +afore, from some fellers thet, like ourselves, made _cache_ in it from a +band o' pursuin' Kimanch. Thar's a way leads out at the back; an' just +as soon as we kin throw dust in the eyes o' these yellin' varmints in +front, we'll put straight for it. I don't know what sort o' a passage +thar is--up the rocks by some kind o' raven, I b'lieve. We must do our +best to find it." + +"But how do you intend to keep them from following us? You speak of +throwing dust in their eyes--how, Walt?" + +"You wait, watch an' see. You won't hev yur patience terrifically +tried: for thar ain't much time to spare about it. Thar's another +passage up the cliffs, not far off; not a doubt but these Injuns know +it; an' ef we don't make haste, they'll git up thar, and come in upon us +by the back door, which trick won't do, nohowsomdever. You keep yurself +in readiness, and watch what I'm agoin' to do. When you see me scoot up +back'ards, follor 'ithout sayin' a word." + +Hamersley promised compliance, and the guide, still kneeling behind the +barricade he had so cruelly constructed, commenced a series of +manoeuvres that held his companion in speechless conjecture. + +He first placed his gun in such a position that the barrel, resting +across the hips of the dead horse, projected beyond the tail. In this +position he made it fast, by tying the butt with a piece of string to a +projecting part of the saddle. He next took the cap from his head--a +coonskin it was--and set it so that its upper edge could be seen +alongside the pommel, and rising about three inches above the croup. +The ruse was an old one, with some new additions and embellishments. + +"It's all done now," said the guide, turning away from the carcase and +crouching to where his comrade awaited him. "Come on, Frank. If they +don't diskiver the trick till we've got time to speed up the clift, then +thar's still a chance for us. Come on, an' keep close arter me!" + +Hamersley went, without saying a word. He knew that Wilder, well known +and long trusted, had a reason for everything he did. It was not the +time to question him, or discuss the prudence of the step he was taking. +There might be danger before, but there was death--sure death--behind +them. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +A DESCENT INTO DARKNESS. + +In less than a dozen paces from its entrance the chine opened into a +wider space, again closing like a pair of callipers. It was a hollow of +elliptical shape--resembling an old-fashioned butterboat scooped out of +the solid rock, on all sides precipitous, except at its upper end. Here +a ravine, sloping down from the summit-level above, would to the +geologist at once proclaim the secret of its formation. Not so easily +explained might seem the narrow outlet to the open plain. But one +skilled in the testimony of the rocks would detect certain ferruginous +veins in the sandstone that, refusing to yield to the erosion of the +running stream, had stood for countless ages. + +Neither Walt Wilder nor the young Kentuckian gave thought to such +scientific speculations as they retreated through the narrow gap and +back into the wider gorge. All they knew or cared for was that a gully +at the opposite end was seen to slope upward, promising a path to the +plain above. + +In sixty seconds they were in it, toiling onward and upward amidst a +chaos of rocks where no horse could follow--loose boulders that looked +as if hurled down from the heavens above or belched upward from the +bowels of the earth. + +The retreat of the fugitives up the ravine, like their dash out of the +enclosed corral, was still but a doubtful effort. Neither of them had +full confidence of being able eventually to escape. It was like the +wounded squirrel clutching at the last tiny twig of a tree, however +unable to support it. They were not quite certain that the sloping +gorge would give them a path to the upper plain; for Wilder had only a +doubtful recollection of what some trapper had told him. But even if it +did, the Indians, expert climbers as they were, would soon be after +them, close upon their heels. The ruse could not remain long +undetected. + +They had plunged into the chasm as drowning men grasp at the nearest +thing afloat--a slender branch or bunch of grass, a straw. + +As they now ascended the rock-strewn gorge both had their reflections, +which, though unspoken, were very similar. And from these came a gleam +of hope. If they could but reach the summit-level of the cliff! Their +pursuers could, of course, do the same; but not on horseback. It would +then be a contest of pedestrian speed. The white men felt confidence in +their swiftness of foot; in this respect believing themselves superior +to their savage pursuers. They knew that the Comanches were horse +Indians--a significant fact. These centaurs of the central plateaux, +scarce ever setting foot upon the earth, when afoot are almost as +helpless as birds with their wings plucked or pinioned. + +If they could reach the crest of the cliff, then all might yet be well; +and, cheered by this reflection, they rushed up the rock-strewn ravine, +now gliding along ledges, now squeezing their bodies between great +boulders, or springing from one to the other--in the audacity of their +bounds rivalling a brace of bighorns. + +They had got more than half-way up, when cries came pealing up the glen +behind them. Still were they hidden from the eyes of the pursuers. +Jutting points of rock and huge masses that lay loose in the bed of the +ravine had hitherto concealed them. But for these, bullets and arrows +would have already whistled about their ears, and perhaps put an end to +their flight. The savages were near enough to send either gun-shot or +shaft, and their voices, borne upward on the air, sounded as clear as if +they were close at hand. + +The fugitives, as already said, had reached more than halfway up the +slope, and were beginning to congratulate themselves on the prospect of +escape. They even thought of the course they should take on arriving at +the summit-level, for they knew that there was an open plain above. All +at once they were brought to a stop, though not by anything that +obstructed their path. On the contrary, it only seemed easier; for +there were now two ways open to them instead of one, the ravine at this +point forking into two distinct branches. There was a choice of which +to take, and it was this that caused them to make a stop, at the same +time creating embarrassment. + +The pause, however, was but for a brief space of time--only long enough +to make a hasty reconnoissance. In the promise of an easy ascent there +seemed but little difference between the two paths, and the guide soon +came to a determination. + +"It's a toss up atween 'em," he said; "but let's take the one to the +right. It looks a little the likest." + +Of course his fellow-fugitive did not dissent, and they struck into the +right-hand ravine; but not until Walt Wilder had plucked the red +kerchief from his head, and flung it as far as he could up the left one, +where it was left lying in a conspicuous position among the rocks. + +He did not say why he had thus strangely abandoned the remnant of his +head-gear; but his companion, sufficiently experienced in the ways and +wiles of prairie life, stood in no need of an explanation. + +The track they had now taken was of comparatively easy ascent; and it +was this, perhaps, that had tempted Wilder to take it. But like most +things within the moral and physical world, its easiness proved a +delusion. They had not gone twenty paces further up when the sloping +chasm terminated. It debouched on a little platform, covered with large +loose stones, and there rested after having fallen from the cliff above. +But at a single glance they saw that this cliff could not be scaled. + +They had entered into a trap, out of which there was no chance of escape +or retreat without throwing themselves back upon the breasts of their +pursuers. + +The Indians were already ascending the main ravine. By their voices it +could be told that they had reached the point where it divided; for +there was a momentary suspension of their cries, as with the baying of +hounds thrown suddenly off the scent. + +It would not be for long. They would likely first follow up the chasm +where the kerchief had been cast, but, should that also prove a +_cul-de-sac_, they would return and try the other. + +The fugitives saw that it was too late to retrace their steps. They +sprang together upon the platform, and commenced searching among the +loose rocks, with a faint hope of finding some place of concealment. + +It was but a despairing sort of search, again like two drowning men who +clutch at a straw. + +All at once an exclamation from the guide called his companion to his +side. It was accompanied by a gesture, and followed by words low +muttered. + +"Look hyar, Frank! Look at this hole! Let's git into it!" + +As Hamersley came close he perceived a dark cavity among the stones, to +which Wilder was pointing. It opened vertically downward, and was of an +irregular, roundish shape, somewhat resembling the mouth of a well, +half-coped with slabs. + +Dare they enter it? Could they? What depth was it? + +Wilder took up a pebble and flung it down. They could hear it +descending, not at a single drop, but striking and ricochetting from +side to side. + +It was long before it reached the bottom and lay silent. No matter for +that. The noise made in its descent told them of projecting points or +ledges that might give them a foothold. + +They lost not a moment of time, but commenced letting themselves down +into the funnel-shaped shaft, the guide going first. + +Slowly and silently they went down--like ghosts through the stage of a +theatre--soon disappearing in the gloom below, and leaving upon the +rock-strewn platform no trace to show that human foot had ever trodden +it. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +A STORM OF STONES. + +Fortunately for the fugitives, the cavity into which they had crept was +a shaft of but slight diameter, otherwise they could not have gone down +without dropping far enough to cause death, for the echoes from the +pebbles betokened a vast vertical depth. + +As it was, the void turned out to be somewhat like that of a stone-built +chimney with here and there a point left projecting. It was so narrow, +moreover, that they were able to use both hands and knees in the +descent, and by this means they accomplished it. + +They went but slowly, and took care to proceed with caution. They knew +that a false step, the slipping of a foot or finger, or the breaking of +a fragment that gave hold to their hands, would precipitate them to an +unknown depth. + +They did not go farther than was necessary for quick concealment. There +was noise made in their descent, and they knew that the Indians would +soon be above, and might hear them. Their only hope lay in their +pursuers believing them to have gone by the left hand path to the plain +above. In time the Indians would surely explore both branches of the +ravine, and if the cunning savages should suspect their presence in the +shaft there would be no hope for them. These thoughts decided them to +come to a stop as soon as they could find foothold. + +About thirty feet from the top they found this, on a point of rock or +ledge that jutted horizontally. It was broad enough to give both +standing room, and as they were now in the midst of amorphous darkness, +they took stand upon it. + +The Indians might at any moment arrive on the platform above. They felt +confident they could not be seen, but they might be heard. The +slightest sound borne upwards to the ears of the savages might betray +them, and, knowing this, they stood still, scarce exchanging a whisper, +and almost afraid to breathe. + +It was not long before they saw that which justified their caution--the +plumed head of a savage, with his neck craned over the edge of the +aperture, outlined conspicuously against the blue sky above. And soon +half a dozen similar silhouettes beside it, while they could hear +distinctly the talk that was passing overhead. + +Wilder had some knowledge of the Comanche tongue, and could make out +most of what was being said. Amidst exclamations that spoke of +vengeance there were words in a calmer tone--discussion, inquiry, and +conjecture. + +From these it could be understood that the pursuers had separated into +two parties, one following on the false track, by the path which the +guide had baited for them, the other coming direct up the right and true +one. + +There were bitter exclamations of disappointment and threats of an +implacable vengeance; and the fugitives, as they listened, might have +reflected how fortunate they had been in discovering that unfathomed +hole. But for it they would have already been in the clutches of a +cruel enemy. + +However, they had little time for reflection. The talk overhead at +first expressed doubts as to their having descended the shaft, but +doubts readily to be set at rest. + +The eyes of the Indians having failed to inform them, their heads were +withdrawn; and soon after a stone came tumbling down the cavity. + +Something of this kind, Wilder had predicted; for he flattened himself +against the wall behind, and stood as "small" as his colossal frame +would permit, having cautioned his companion to do the same. + +The stone passed without striking them, and went crashing on till it +struck on the bottom below. + +Another followed, and another; the third creasing Hamersley on the +breast, and tearing a couple of buttons from his coat. + +This was shaving close--too close to be comfortable. Perhaps the next +boulder might rebound from the wall above and strike one or both of them +dead. + +In fear of this result, they commenced groping to ascertain if the ledge +offered any better screen from the dangerous shower, which promised to +fall for some time longer. + +Good! Hamersley felt his hand entering a hole that opened horizontally. +It proved big enough to admit his body, as also the larger frame of his +companion. Both were soon inside it. It was a sort of grotto they had +discovered; and, crouching within it, they could laugh to scorn the +storm that still came pouring from above; the stones, as they passed +close to their faces, hissing and hurtling like aerolites. + +The rocky rain at length ended. The Indians had evidently come to the +conclusion that it was either barren in result, or must have effectually +performed the purpose intended by it, and for a short time there was +silence above and below. + +They who were hidden in the shaft might have supposed that their +persecutors, satisfied at what they had accomplished, were returning to +the plain, and had retired from the spot. + +Hamersley did think so; but Walt, an old prairie man, more skilled in +the Indian character, could not console himself with such a fancy. + +"Ne'er a bit o' it," he whisperingly said to his companion. "They ain't +agoin' to leave us that easy--not if Horned Lizard be amongst 'em. +They'll either stay thar till we climb out agin, or try to smoke us. Ye +may take my word for it, Frank, thar's some'ut to come yet. Look up! +Didn't I tell ye so?" + +Wilder drew back out of the narrow aperture, through which he had been +craning his neck and shoulders in order to get a view of what was +passing above. + +The hole leading into the grotto that held them was barely large enough +to admit the body of a man. Hamersley took his place, and, turning his +eyes upward, at once saw what his comrade referred to. It was the smoke +of a fire, that appeared in the act of being kindled near the edge of +the aperture above. The smoke was ascending towards the sky, diagonally +drifting across the blue disc outlined by the rim of rock. + +He had barely time to make the observation when a swishing sound +admonished him to draw back his head; then there passed before his face +a ruck of falling stalks and faggots. Some of them settled upon the +ledge, the rest sweeping on to the bottom of the abyss. + +In a moment after the shaft was filled with smoke, but not that of an +ordinary wood fire. Even this would have been sufficient to stifle them +where they were; but the fumes now entering their nostrils were of a +kind to cause suffocation almost instantaneously. + +The faggots set on fire were the stalks of the creosote plant--the +_ideodondo_ of the Mexican table lands, well known for its power to +cause asphyxia. Walt Wilder recognised it at the first whiff. + +"It's the stink-weed!" he exclaimed. "That darned stink-weed o' New +Mexico! It'll kill us if we can't keep it out. Off wi' your coat, +Frank; it are bigger than my hunting skirt. Let's spread it across the +hole, an' see if that'll do." + +His companion obeyed with alacrity, stripping off his coat as quickly as +the circumscribed space would permit. Fortunately, it was a garment of +the sack specialty, without any split in the tail, and when extended +offered a good breadth of surface. + +It proved sufficient for the purpose, and, before the little grotto had +become so filled with smoke as to be absolutely untenable, its entrance +was closed by a curtain of broadcloth, held so hermetically over the +aperture that even the fumes of Assafoetida could not possibly have +found their way inside. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +BURIED ALIVE. + +For nearly half an hour they kept the coat spread, holding it close +around the edges of the aperture with their heads, hands, knees, and +elbows. Withal some of the bitter smoke found ingress, torturing their +eyes, and half stifling them. + +They bore it with philosophic fortitude and in profound silence, using +their utmost efforts to refrain from sneezing or coughing. + +They knew that the least noise heard by the Indians above--anything to +indicate their presence in the shaft--would ensure their destruction. +The fumigation would be continued till the savages were certain of its +having had a fatal effect. If they could hold out long enough, even +Indian astuteness might be baffled. + +From what Wilder had heard, their persecutors were in doubt about their +having descended into the shaft; and this uncertainty promised to be +their salvation. Unless sure that they were taking all this trouble to +some purpose, the red men would not dally long over their work. +Besides, there was the rich booty to be drawn from the captured waggons, +which would attract the Indians back to them, each having an interest in +being present at the distribution. + +Thus reasoned Walt Wilder as they listened to detect a change in the +performance, making use of all their ears. + +Of course they could see nothing, no more than if they had been immured +in the darkest cell of an Inquisitorial dungeon. Only by their ears +might they make any guess at what was going on. These admonished them +that more of the burning brush was being heaved into the hole. Every +now and then they could hear it as it went swishing past the door of +their curtained chamber, the stalks and sticks rasping against the rocks +in their descent. + +After a time these sounds ceased to be heard; the Indians no doubt +thinking that sufficient of the inflammatory matter had been cast in to +cause their complete destruction. If inside the cavern, they must by +this time be stifled--asphyxiated--dead. + +So must have reasoned the red-skinned fumigators; for after a while they +desisted from their hellish task. But, as if to make assurance doubly +sure, before taking departure from the spot, they performed another act +indicative of an equally merciless intention. + +During the short period of silence their victims could not tell what +they were about. They only knew, by occasional sounds reaching them +from above, that there was some change in the performance; but what it +was they could not even shape a conjecture. + +The interregnum at length ended with a loud rumbling noise, that was +itself suddenly terminated by a grand crash, as if a portion of the +impending cliff had become detached, and fallen down upon the platform. + +Then succeeded a silence, unbroken by the slightest sound. No longer +was heard either noise or voice--not the murmur of one. + +It was a silence that resembled death; as if the vindictive savages had +one and all met a deserved doom by being crushed under the falling +cliff. + +For some time after hearing this mysterious noise, which had caused the +rock to tremble around them, the two men remained motionless within +their place of concealment. + +At length Wilder cautiously and deliberately pushed aside the curtain. +At first only a small portion of it--a corner, so as to make sure about +the smoke. + +It still oozed in, but not so voluminously as at first. It had +evidently become attenuated, and was growing thinner. It appeared also +to be ascending with rapidity, as up the funnel of a chimney having a +good draught. For this reason it was carried past the mouth of the +grotto without much of it drifting in, and they saw that they could soon +safely withdraw the curtain. It was a welcome relaxation from the +irksome task that had been so long imposed upon them, and the coat was +at length permitted to drop down upon the ledge. + +Although there were no longer any sounds heard, or other signs to +indicate the presence of the Indians, the fugitives did not feel sure of +their having gone; and it was some time before they made any attempt to +reascend the shaft. Some of the pursuers might still be lurking near, +or straying within sight. They had so far escaped death, as if by a +miracle, and they were cautious of again tempting fate. They determined +that for some time yet they would not venture out upon the ledge, but +keep inside the grotto that had given them such well-timed shelter. +Some sulky savage, disappointed at not getting their scalps, might take +it into his head to return and hurl down into the hole another shower of +stones. Such a whim was probable to a prairie Indian. + +Cautious against all like contingencies, the guide counselled his +younger companion to patience, and for a considerable time they remained +without stirring out of their obscure chamber. + +At length, however, perceiving that the tranquillity continued, they no +longer deemed it rash to make a reconnoissance; and for this purpose +Walt Wilder crawled out upon the ledge and looked upward. A feeling of +surprise, mingled with apprehension, at once seized upon him. + +"Kin it be night?" he asked, whispering the words back into the grotto. + +"Not yet, I should think?" answered Hamersley. "The fight was begun +before daybreak. The day can't all have passed yet. But why do you +ask, Walt?" + +"Because thar's no light comin' from above. Whar's the bit o' blue sky +we seed? Thar ain't the breadth o' a hand visible. It can't a be the +smoke as hides it. That seems most cleared off. Darned if I can see a +steim o' the sky. 'Bove as below, everything's as black as the ten o' +spades. What kin it mean?" + +Without waiting a reply, or staying for his companion to come out upon +the ledge, Wilder rose to his feet, and, grasping the projecting points +above his head, commenced swarming up the shaft, in a similar manner as +that by which he had made the descent. + +Hamersley, who by this time had crept out of the grotto, stood upon the +ledge listening. + +He could hear his comrade as he scrambled up; the rasping of his feet +against the rocks, and his stentorian breathing. + +At length Walt appeared to have reached the top, when Hamersley heard +words that sent a thrill of horror throughout his whole frame. + +"Oh!" cried the guide, in his surprise, forgetting to subdue the tone of +his voice, "they've built us up! Thar's a stone over the mouth o' the +hole--shettin' it like a pot lid. A stone--a rock that no mortal ked +move. Frank Hamersley, it's all over wi' us; we're buried alive!" + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +A SAVAGE SATURNAL. + +Only for a short while had Wilder's trick held the pursuers in check. +Habituated to such wiles, the Indians, at first suspecting it to be one, +soon became certain. For, as they scattered to each side of the cleft, +the steel tube no longer kept turning towards them, while the coonskin +cap remained equally without motion. + +At length, becoming convinced, and urged on by the Red Cross chief and +the bearded savage by his side, they dashed boldly up, and, dismounting, +entered the chine over the body of the butchered horse. + +Only staying to take possession of the relinquished rifle, they +continued on up the ravine fast as their feet could carry them. A +moment's pause where the red kerchief lay on the rock, suspecting this +also a ruse to mislead them as to the track taken by the fugitives. To +make certain, they separated into two parties--one going up the gulch, +that led left, the other proceeding by that which conducted to the place +where the two men had concealed themselves. + +Arriving upon the little platform, the pursuers at once discovered the +cavity, at the same time conjecturing that the pursued had gone into it. +Becoming sure of this, they who took the left-hand path rejoined them, +these bringing the report that they had ascended to the summit of the +cliff, and seen nothing of the two men who were chased. + +Then the stones were cast in; after them the burning stalks of the +_ideodondo_; when, finally, to make destruction sure, the rock was +rolled over, closing up the shaft as securely as if the cliff itself had +fallen face downward upon the spot. + +The savages stayed no longer there. All were too eager to return to the +waggons to make sure of their share in the captured spoils. + +One alone remained--he with the bushed beard. After the others were +gone he stepped up to the boulder, and, stooping down, placed his ear +close to it. He appeared as if trying to catch some sound that might +come from the cavity underneath. + +None came--no noise, even the slightest. Within the shut shaft all was +still as death. For death itself must be down there, if there ever was +life. + +For some time he crouched beside the rock, listening. Then rising to +his feet, with a smile of satisfaction upon his grim, sinister features, +he said, in soliloquy,-- + +"They're down there, no doubt of it; and dead long before this. One of +the two must have been he. Who the other matters not _Carrai_! I'd +like to have had a look at him too, and let him see who has given him +his quietus. Bah! what does it signify? It's all over now, and I've +had my revenge. _Vamos_! I must get back to the waggons, or my friend +the Horned Lizard may be taking his pick of the plunder. Luckily these +redskins don't know the different values of the goods; so I shall bestow +the cotton prints with a liberal hand, keeping the better sorts to +myself. And now to assist in the partition of spoils." + +So saying, he strode away from the rock, and, gliding back down the +gulch, climbed over the carcass of the dead horse. Then, finding his +own outside, he mounted and rode off to rejoin his red-skinned comrades +engaged in sacking the caravan. + +On reaching it a spectacle was presented to his eyes--frightful, though +not to him. For he was a man who had seen similar sights before--one +with soul steeped in kindred crime. + +The waggons had been drawn partially apart, disclosing the space +between. The smoke had all ascended or drifted off, and clear sunlight +once more shone upon the sand--over the ground lately barricaded by the +bodies of those who had so bravely defended it. There were thirteen of +them--the party of traders and hunters being in all but fifteen. Of +those slain upon the spot there was not one now wearing his hair. Their +heads were bare and bloody, the crown of each showing a circular disc of +dark crimson colour. The scalping-knife had already completed its work, +and the ghastly trophies were seen impaled upon the points of spears-- +some of them stuck upright in the sand, others borne triumphantly about +by the exulting victors. Their triumph had cost them dear. On the +plain outside at least thirty of their own lay extended, stone dead; +while here and there a group bending over some recumbent form told of a +warrior wounded. + +By the orders of their chief, some had set about collecting the corpses +of their slain comrades, with the intent of interring them. Others, +acting without orders, still continued to wreak their savage spite upon +the bodies of their white victims, submitting them to further +mutilation. They chopped off their heads; then, poising these on the +points of spears, tossed them to and fro, all the while shouting in +savage glee, laughing with a cacchination that resembled the mirth of a +madhouse. + +Withal, there was stern vengeance in its tones. A resistance, they +little expected, causing them such serious loss, had roused their +passions to a pitch of the utmost exasperation; and they tried to allay +their spiteful anger by expending it on the dead bodies of those who, +while living, had so effectually chastised them. These were slashed and +hacked with tomahawks, pierced with spears, and arrows, beaten with war +clubs, then cut into pieces, to be tied to the tails of their horses, +and dragged in gallop to and fro over the ground. For some time this +tragical spectacle held play. Then ensued a scene savouring of the +ludicrous and grotesque. + +The waggons were emptied of their contents, while the rich freight, +transported to a distance, was spread out upon the plain, and its +partition entered upon--all crowding around to receive their share. + +The distribution was superintended by the Horned Lizard, though he with +the beard appeared to act with equal, or even greater, authority. +Backed by the second personage, who wore hair on his cheeks, he dictated +the apportionment. + +And as he had said in soliloquy, the cotton prints of gaudy patterns +satisfied the cupidity of his red-skinned companions, leaving to himself +and his confidential friend the costlier fabrics of silken sheen. Among +the traders' stock were knives of common sort--the cheapest cutlery of +Sheffield; guns and pistols of the Brummagem brand, with beads, looking +glasses, and such-like notions from the New England Boston. All these, +delectable in the eyes of the Horned Lizard and his Tenawas, were left +to them; while the bearded man, himself selecting, appropriated the +silks and satins, the laces and real jewellery that had been designed to +deck the rich _doncellas_ of Santa Fe, El Paso, Chihuahua, and Durango. + +The distribution over, the scene assumed a new aspect. It was now that +the ludicrous came prominently into play. Though not much water had +been found in the waggons, there was enough fluid of stronger spirit. A +barrel of Monongahela whisky was part of the caravan stores left +undestroyed. Knowing the white man's firewater but too well, the +Indians tapped the cask, and quaffed of its contents. + +In a short time two-thirds of the band became intoxicated. Some rolled +over dead drunk, and lay a-stretch along the sand. Others tottered +about, uttering maudlin speeches. Still others of stronger stomach and +steader brain kept their feet, as also their senses; only that these +became excited, increasing their cupidity. They wanted more than they +had got, and would gamble to get it. One had a piece of cotton print, +and so had another. Each wished to have both or none. How was it to be +decided? By cards? By dice? No. There was a way more congenial to +their tastes--more _a propos_ to their habits. It should be done by +their horses. They knew the sort of game, for it is not the first time +they have played it. The piece of print is unrolled, and at each end +tied to a horse's tail. The owners spring to the backs of the animals, +then urge them in the opposite directions till the strain comes; at the +pluck the web gives way, and he who holds the longer part becomes +possessor of the whole. + +Others, not gamblers, out of sheer devilry and diversion, similarly +attach their stuffs, and gallop over the ground with the prints trailing +fifty yards behind them. In the frenzied frolic that had seized hold of +them they forgot their slain comrades, still unburied. They whoop, +shout, and laugh till the cliffs, in wild, unwonted echo, send back the +sound of their demoniac mirth. A riot rare as original--a true saturnal +of savages. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +A LIVING TOMB. + +Literally buried alive, as Walt Wilder had said, were he and his +companion. + +They now understood what had caused the strange noise that mystified +them--the rumbling followed by a crash. No accidental _debacle_ or +falling of a portion of the cliff, as they had been half supposing; but +a deed of atrocious design--a huge rock rolled by the united strength of +the savages, until it rested over the orifice of the shaft, completely +coping and closing it. + +It may have been done without any certain knowledge of their being +inside--only to make things sure. It mattered not to the two men thus +cruelly enclosed, for they knew that in any case there was no hope of +their being rescued from what they believed to be a living tomb. + +That it was such neither could doubt. The guide, gifted with herculean +strength, had tried to move the stone on discovering how it lay. With +his feet firmly planted in the projections below, and his shoulder to +the rock above, he had given a heave that would have lifted a loaded +waggon from its wheels. + +The stone did not budge with all this exertion. There was not so much +as motion. He might as successfully have made trial to move a mountain +from its base. He did not try again. He remembered the rock itself. +He had noticed it while they were searching for a place to conceal +themselves, and had been struck with its immense size. No one man could +have stirred it from its place. It must have taken at least twenty +Indians. No matter how many, they had succeeded in their design, and +their victims were now helplessly enclosed in the dark catacomb--slowly, +despairingly to perish. + +"All up wi' us, I reck'n," said the guide, as he once more let himself +down upon the ledge to communicate the particulars to his companion. + +Hamersley ascended to see for himself. They could only go one at a +time. He examined the edge of the orifice where the rock rested upon +it. He could only do so by the touch. Not a ray of light came in on +any side, and groping round and round he could detect neither crevice +nor void. There were weeds and grass, still warm and smouldering, the +_debris_ of what had been set on fire for their fumigation. The rock +rested on a bedding of these; hence the exact fit, closing every crack +and crevice. + +On completing his exploration Hamersley returned to his companion below. + +"Hopeless!" murmured Wilder, despondingly. + +"No, Walt; I don't think so yet." + +The Kentuckian, though young, was a man of remarkable intelligence as +well as courage. It needed these qualities to be a prairie merchant-- +one who commanded a caravan. Wilder knew him to be possessed of them-- +in the last of them equalling himself, in the first far exceeding him. + +"You think thar's a chance for us to get out o' hyar?" he said, +interrogatively. + +"I think there is, and a likely one." + +"Good! What leads ye to think so, Frank?" + +"Reach me my bowie. It's behind you there in the cave." + +Wilder did as requested. + +"It will depend a good deal upon what sort of rock this is around us. +It isn't flint, anyhow. I take it to be either lime or sandstone. If +so, we needn't stay here much longer than it would be safe to go out +again among those bloodthirsty savages." + +"How do you mean, Frank? Darn me if I yet understan ye." + +"It's very simple, Walt. If this cliff rock be only sandstone, or some +other substance equally soft, we may cut our way out--under the big +stone." + +"Ah! I didn't think o' thet. Thar's good sense in what ye say." + +"It has a softish feel," said the Kentuckian, as he drew his hand across +one of the projecting points. "I wish I only had two inches of a +candle. However, I think I can make my exploration in the dark." + +There was a short moment of silence, after which was heard a clinking +sound, as of a knife blade being repeatedly struck against a stone. It +was Hamersley, with his bowie, chipping off a piece from the rock that +projected from the side of the shaft. + +The sound was pleasant to the Kentuckian's ear, for it was not the hard +metallic ring given out by quartz or granite. On the contrary, the +steel struck against it with a dull, dead echo, and he could feel that +the point of the knife easily impinged upon it. + +"Sandstone," he said; "or something that'll serve our purpose equally as +well. Yes, Walt, there's a good chance for us to get out of this ugly +prison; so keep up your heart, comrade. It may cost us a couple of +days' quarrying. Perhaps all the better for that; the Indians are +pretty sure to keep about the waggons for a day or so. They'll find +enough there to amuse them. Our work will depend a good deal on what +sort of a stone they've rolled over the hole. You remember what size +the boulder was?" + +"'Twas a largish pebble; looked to me at least ten feet every way. It +sort o' serprised me how the skunks ked a budged it. I reck'n 'twar on +a coggle, an' rolled eezy. It must ha' tuk the hul clanjamfry o' them." + +"If we only knew the right edge to begin at. For that we must go by +guess-work. Well, we mustn't lose time, but set about our stone-cutting +at once. Every hour will be taking the strength out of us. I only came +down for the bowie to make a beginning. I'll make trial at it first, +and then we can take turn and turn about." + +Provided with his knife, the Kentuckian again climbed up; and soon after +the guide heard a crinkling sound, succeeded by the rattling of pieces +of rock, as they got detached and came showering down. + +To save his crown, now uncovered by the loss of both kerchief and cap, +he crept back into the alcove that had originally protected them from +the stones cast in by the Indians. Along with the splinters something +else came past Walt's face, making a soft, rustling sound; it had a +smell also that told what it was--the "cussed stink-weed." + +From the falling fragments, their size and number, he could tell that +his comrade was making good way. + +Walt longed to relieve him at his work, and called up a request to this +end; but Hamersley returned a refusal, speaking in a cautious tone, lest +his voice might be borne out to the ear of some savage still lingering +near. + +For over an hour Wilder waited below, now and then casting impatient +glances upward. They were only mechanical; for, of course, he could see +nothing. But they were anxious withal; for the success of his comrade's +scheme was yet problematical. + +With sufficient food and drink to sustain them, they might in time +accomplish what they had set about; but wanting these, their strength +would soon give way, and then--ah! then-- + +The guide was still standing on the ledge, pursuing this or a similar +train of reflection, when all at once a sight came, not under but above +his eyes, which caused him to utter an exclamation of joy. + +It was the sight of his comrade's face--only that! + +But this had in it a world of significance. He could hot have seen that +face without light. Light had been let into their rock-bound abode, so +late buried in the profoundest darkness. + +It was but a feeble glimmer, that appeared to have found admission +through a tiny crevice under the huge copestone; and Hamersley's face, +close to it, was seen only in faint shadow--fainter from the film of +smoke yet struggling up the shaft. + +Still was it light--beautiful, cheering light--like some shore-beacon +seen by the storm-tossed mariner amid the dangers of a night-shrouded +sea. + +Hamersley had not yet spoken a word to explain what had occurred to +cause it. He had suddenly left off chipping the rock, and was at rest, +apparently in contemplation of the soft silvery ray that was playing so +benignly upon his features. + +Was it the pleasure of once more beholding what he lately thought he +might never see again--the light of day? Was it this alone that was +keeping him still and speechless? + +No, something else; as he told his comrade when he rejoined him soon +after on the ledge. + +"Walt," he said, "I've let daylight in, as you see; but I find it'll +take a long time to cut a passage out. It's only the weeds I've been +able to get clear of. The big rock runs over at least five feet, and +the stone turns out harder than I thought of." + +These were not cheering words to Walt Wilder. + +"But," continued Hamersley, his speech changing to a more hopeful tone, +"I've noticed something that may serve better still; perhaps save us all +the quarrying. I don't know whether I'm right; but we shall soon see." + +"What hev ye noticed?" was the question put by Wilder. + +"You see there's still some smoke around us." + +"Yes, Frank, my eyes tell me that plain enuf. I've nigh nibbed 'em out +o' thar sockets." + +"Well, as soon as I had scooped out the crack that let in the daylight. +I noticed that the smoke rushed out as if blasted through a pair of +bellows. That shows there's a draught coming up. It can only come from +some aperture below, acting as a furnace or the funnel of a chimney. We +must try to get down to the bottom, and see if there's such a thing. If +there be, who knows but it may be big enough to let us out of our +prison, without having to carve our way through the walls, which I feel +certain would take us several days. We must try to get down to the +bottom." + +To accede to this request the guide needed no urging, and both--one +after the other--at once commenced descending. + +They found no great difficulty in getting down, any more than they had +already experienced, for the shaft continued all the way down nearly the +same width, and very similar to what it was above the ledge. Near the +bottom, however, it became abruptly wider by the retrocession of the +walls. They were now in a dilemma, for they had reached a point where +they could go no further without dropping off. It might be ten feet, it +might be a hundred--in any case enough to make the peril appalling. + +Wilder had gone first, and soon bethought himself of a test. He unslung +his powder-horn and permitted it to drop from his hand, listening +attentively. It made scarce any noise; still he could hear it striking +against something soft. It was the brush thrown in by the Indians. +This did not seem far below; and the half-burnt stalks would be +something to break their fall. + +"I'll chance it," said Walt, and almost simultaneous with his words was +heard the bump of his heavy body alighting on the litter below. + +"You may jump without fear, Frank. 'Taint over six feet in the clar." + +Hamersley obeyed, and soon both stood at the bottom of the chimney--on +the hearthstone where the stalks of the creosote still smouldered. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +OFF AT LAST! + +On touching _terra firma_, and finding plenty of space around, they +scrambled from off the pile of loose stones and stalks cast down by the +Indians, and commenced groping their way about. Again touching the firm +surrounding of rock, they groped searchingly along it. + +They were not long engaged in their game of blind-man's buff, when the +necessity of trusting to the touch came abruptly to an end--as if the +handkerchief had been suddenly jerked from their eyes. The change was +caused by a light streaming in through a side gallery into which they +had strayed. It was at first dim and distant, but soon shone upon them +with the brilliance of a flambeau. + +Following the passage through which it guided them, they reached an +aperture of irregular roundish shape, about the size, of the cloister +window of a convent. They saw at once that it was big enough to allow +the passage of their bodies. They saw, too, that it was admitting the +sunbeams--admonishing them that it was still far from night. + +They had brought all their traps down along with them--their knives and +pistols, with Hamersley's gun still carefully kept. But they hesitated +about going out. There could be no difficulty in their doing so, for +there was a ledge less than three feet under the aperture, upon which +they could find footing. It was not that which caused them to hesitate, +but the fact of again falling into the hands of their implacable +enemies. + +That these were still upon the plain they had evidence. They could hear +their yells and whooping, mingled with peals of wild demon-like +laughter. It was at the time when the firewater was in the ascendant, +and the savages were playing their merry game with the pieces of +despoiled cotton goods. + +There was danger in going out, but there might be more in staying in. +The savages might return upon their search, and discover this other +entrance to the vault. In that case they would take still greater pains +to close it and besiege the two fugitives to the point of starvation. + +Both were eager to escape from a place they had lately looked upon as a +living tomb. + +Still, they dared not venture out of it. They could not retreat by the +plain so long as the Indians were upon it. At night, perhaps, in the +darkness, they might. Hamersley suggested this. + +"No," said Walt, "nor at night eyther. It's moontime, you know; an' +them sharp-eyed Injuns niver all goes to sleep thegither. On that sand +they'd see us in the moonlight 'most as plain as in the day. Ef we wait +at all, we'll hev to stay till they go clar off." + +Wilder, while speaking, stood close to the aperture, looking cautiously +out. At that moment, craning his neck to a greater stretch, so as to +command a better view of what lay below, his eye caught sight of an +object that elicited an exclamation of surprise. + +"Darn it," he said, "thar's my old clout lyin' down thar on the rocks." + +It was the red kerchief he had plucked from his head to put the pursuers +on the wrong track. + +"It's jest where I flinged it," he continued; "I kin recognise the +place. That gully, then, must be the one we didn't go up." + +Walt spoke the truth. The decoy was still in the place where he had set +it. The square of soiled and faded cotton had failed to tempt the +cupidity of the savages, who knew that in the waggons they had captured +were hundreds of such, clean and new, with far richer spoil besides. + +"S'pose we still try that path, Frank. It may lead us to the top arter +all. If they've bin up it they've long ago gone down agin; I kin tell +by thar yelpin' around the waggons. They've got holt of our corn afore +this; and won't be so sharp in lookin' arter us." + +"Agreed," said Hamersley. + +Without further delay the two scrambled out through the aperture, and, +creeping along the ledge, once more stood in the hollow of the ravine, +at the point of its separation into the forks that had perplexed them in +their ascent. Perhaps, after all, they had chosen the right one. At +the time of their first flight, had they succeeded in reaching the plain +above, they would surely have been seen and pursued; though with +superior swiftness of foot they might still have escaped. + +Once more they faced upward, by the slope of the ravine yet untried. + +On passing it, Walt laid hold of his "clout," as he called it, and +replaced it, turban fashion, on his head. + +"I can only weesh," he said, "I ked as convenient rekiver my rifle; an', +darn me, but I would try, ef it war only thar still. It ain't, I know. +Thet air piece is too precious for a Injun to pass by. It's gone back +to the waggons." + +They could now more distinctly hear the shouts of their despoilers; and, +as they continued the ascent, the narrow chine in the cliff opened +between them and the plain, giving them a glimpse of what was there +going on. + +They could see the savages--some on foot, others on horseback--the +latter careering round as if engaged in a tournament. + +They saw they were roystering, wild with triumph, and maddened with +drink--the fire-water they had found in the waggons. + +"Though they be drunk, we mustn't stay hyar so nigh 'em," muttered Walt. +"I allers like to put space atween me and seech as them. They mout get +some whimsey into their heads, an' come this ways. They'll take any +amount o' trouble to raise ha'r; an' maybe grievin' that they hain't got +ourn yit, an' mout think they'd hev another try for it. As the night's +bound to be a mooner, we can't git too far from 'em. So let's out o' +this quick's we kin." + +"On, then!" said Hamersley, assenting; and the next moment the two were +rapidly ascending the gorge, Wilder leading the way. + +This time they were more fortunate. The ravine sloped on up to the +summit of the cliff, debouching upon a level plain. They reached this +without passing any point that could bring them under the eyes of the +Indians. + +They could still hear the shouts of triumph and wild revelry; but as +they receded from the crest of the cliff these grew fainter and fainter, +until they found themselves fleeing over an open table-land, bounded +above by the sky, all round them silent as death--silent as the heart of +a desert. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +INTO THE DESERT. + +The cliff, up which the young prairie merchant and his guide, after +their series of hairbreadth escapes, have succeeded in climbing, is the +scarped edge of a spur of the famous Llano Estacado, or "Staked Plain," +and it is into this sterile tract they are now fleeing. + +Neither have any definite knowledge of the country before them, or the +direction they ought to take. Their only thought is to put space +between themselves and the scene of their disaster--enough to secure +them against being seen by the eye of any Indian coming after. + +A glance is sufficient to satisfy them that only by distance can they +obtain concealment. Far as the eye can reach the surface appears a +perfect level, without shrub or tree. There is not cover enough to give +hiding-place to a hare. Although now in full run, and with no +appearance of being pursued, they are far from being confident of +escaping. They are under an apprehension that some of the savages have +ascended to the upper plain, and are still on it, searching for them. +If so, these may be encountered at any moment, returning disappointed +from the pursuit. + +The fugitives draw some consolation from the knowledge that the pursuers +could not have got their horses up the cliff; and, if there is to be +another chapter to the chase, it will be on foot--a contest of +pedestrian speed. In a trial of this kind Walt Wilder, at least, has +nothing to fear. The Colossus, with his long strides, would be almost a +match for the giant with the seven-leagued boots. + +Their only uneasiness is that the savages may have gone out upon the +track they are themselves taking, and, appearing in their front, may +head them off, and so intercept their retreat. As there is yet no +savage in sight--no sign either of man or animal--their confidence +increases; and, after making a mile or so across the plain, they no +longer look ahead, but backward. + +At short intervals the great brown beard of the guide sweeps his left +shoulder, as he casts anxious glances behind him. They are all the more +anxious on observing--which he now does--that his fellow-fugitive flags +in his pace, and shows signs of giving out. + +With a quick comprehension, and without any questions asked, Wilder +understands the reason. In the smoke-cloud that covered their retreat +from the corralled waggons--afterwards in the sombre shadow of the +chine, and the obscurity of the cave, he had not observed what now, in +the bright glare of the sunlight, is too plainly apparent--that the +nether garments of his comrade are saturated with blood. + +Hamersley has scarce noticed it himself, and his attention is now called +to it, less from perceiving any acute pain than that he begins to feel +faint and feeble. Blood is oozing through the breast of his shirt, +running down the legs of his trousers, and on into his boots. And the +fountain from which it proceeds is fast disclosing itself by an aching +pain in his side, which increases as he strides on. + +A moment's pause to examine it. When the vest and shirt are opened it +is seen that a bullet has passed through his left side, causing only a +flesh wound, but cutting an artery in its course. Scratched and torn in +several other places, for the time equally painful, he had not yet +perceived this more serious injury. + +It is not mortal, nor likely to prove so. The guide and hunter, like +most of his calling, is a rough practical surgeon; and after giving the +wound a hurried examination, pronounces it "only a scratch," then urges +his companion onward. + +Again starting, they proceed at the same quick pace; but before they +have made another mile the wounded man feels his weakness sensibly +overcoming him. Then the rapid run is succeeded by a slow dog-trot, +soon decreasing to a walk, at length ending in a dead stop. + +"I can go no farther, Walt; not if all the devils of hell were at my +heels. I've done my best. If they come after you keep on, and leave +me." + +"Niver, Frank Hamersley, niver! Walt Wilder ain't the man to sep'rate +from a kumrade, and leave him in a fix that way. If ye must pull up, so +do this child. An' I see ye must; thar's no behelp for it." + +"I cannot go a step farther." + +"Enuf! But don't let's stan' to be seen miles off. Squat's the word. +Down on yer belly, like a toad under a harrer. Thar's jest a +resemblance o' kiver, hyar 'mong these tussocks o' buffler-grass; an' +this child ain't the most inconspicerousest objeck on the plain. Let's +squat on our breast-ribs, an' lay close as pancakes." + +Whilst speaking he throws himself to the earth, flat on his face. + +Hamersley, already tottering, drops down by his side; as he does so, +leaving the plain, as far as the eye can reach, without salient object +to intercept the vision--any more than might be seen on the surface of a +sleeping ocean. + +It is in favour of the fugitives that the day has now well declined. +But they do not remain long in their recumbent position before the sun, +sinking behind the western horizon, gives them an opportunity of once +more getting upon their feet. + +They do so, glad to escape from a posture whose restraint is exceedingly +irksome. They have suffered from the hot atmosphere rising like caloric +from the parched plain. But now that the sun had gone down, a cool +breeze begins to play over its surface, fanning them to fresh energy. +Besides, the night closing over them--the moon not yet up--has removed +the necessity for keeping any longer in concealment, and they proceed +onward without fear. Hamersley feels as if fresh blood had been infused +into his veins; and he is ready to spring to his feet at the same time +as his comrade. + +"Frank! d'ye think ye kin go a little furrer now?" is the interrogatory +put by the hunter. + +"Yes, Walt; miles further," is the response. "I feel as if I could walk +across the grandest spread of prairie." + +"Good!" ejaculates the guide. "I'm glad to hear you talk that way. If +we kin but git a wheen o' miles atween us an' them yelpin' savages, we +may hev a chance o' salvation yit. The wust o' the thing air, that we +don't know which way to go. It's a toss up 'tween 'em. If we turn back +torst the Canadyen, we may meet 'em agin, an' right in the teeth. +Westart lies the settlement o' the Del Nort; but we mout come on the +same Injuns by goin' that direckshun. I'm not sartin they're Tenawas. +Southart this Staked Plain hain't no endin' till ye git down to the +Grand River below its big bend, an' that ain't to be thort o'. By +strikin' east, a little southart, we mout reach the head sources o' the +Loozyany Red; an' oncest on a stream o' runnin' water, this child kin +generally navigate down it, provided he hev a rifle, powder, an' a +bullet or two in his pouch. Thank the Almighty Lord, we've stuck to +your gun through the thick an' the thin o't. Ef we hedn't we mout jest +as well lie down agin' an' make a die at oncest." + +"Go which way you please, Walt; you know best. I am ready to follow +you; and I think I shall be able." + +"Wal, at anyhow, we'd best be movin' off from hyar. If ye can't go a +great ways under kiver o' the night, I reck'n we kin put enough o' +parairia atween us an' these Injuns to make sure agin thar spyin' us in +the mornin'. So let's start south-eastart, an' try for the sources o' +the Red. Thur's that ole beauty o' the North Star that's been my friend +an' guide many's the good time. Thar it is, makin' the handle o' the +Plough, or the Great Bar, as I've heern that colleckshin o' stars +freekwently called. We've only to keep it on our left, a leetle torst +the back o' the shoulder, an' then we're boun' to bring out on some o' +the head-forks o' the Red--if we kin only last long enough to reach 'em. +Darn it! thar's no danger; an' anyhow, thar's no help for't but try. +Come along!" + +So speaking, the guide started forward--not in full stride, but timing +his pace to suit the feeble steps of his disabled comrade. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +A LILLIPUTIAN FOREST. + +Guiding their course by the stars the fugitives continue on--no longer +going in a run, nor even in a very rapid walk. Despite the resolution +with which he endeavours to nerve himself, the wounded man is still too +weak to make much progress, and he advances but laggingly. His +companion does not urge him to quicken his pace. The experienced +prairie man knows it will be better to go slowly than get broken down by +straining forward too eagerly. There is no sign or sound of Indian, +either behind or before them. The stillness of the desert is around +them--its silence only interrupted by the "whip-whip" of the +night-hawk's wings, and at intervals its soft note answering to the +shriller cry of the kid-deer plover that rises screaming before their +feet. These, with the constant skirr of the ground-crickets and the +prolonged whine of the coyote, are the only sounds that salute them as +they glide on--none of which are of a kind to cause alarm. + +There appears no great reason for making haste now. They have all the +night before them, and, ere daylight can discover them, they will be +sure to find some place of concealment. + +The ground is favourable to pedestrianism in the darkness. The surface, +hard-baked by the sun, is level as a set flagstone, and in most places +so smooth that a carriage could run upon it as on the drive of a park. +Well for them it is so. Had the path been a rugged one the wounded man +would not go far before giving out. Even as it is, the toil soon begins +to tell on his wasted strength. His veins are almost emptied of blood. + +Nor do they proceed a very great distance before again coming to a halt; +though far enough to feel sure that, standing erect, they cannot be +descried by any one who may have ascended the cliff at the place where +they took departure from it. + +But they have also reached that which offers them a chance of +concealment--in short, a forest. It is a forest not discernible at more +than a mile's distance, for the trees that compose it are "shin oaks," +the tallest rising to the height of only eighteen inches above the +surface of the ground. Eighteen inches is enough to conceal the body of +a man lying in a prostrate attitude; and as the Lilliputian trees grow +thick as jimson weeds, the cover will be a secure one. Unless the +pursuers should stray so close as to tread upon them, there will be no +danger of their being seen. Further reflection has by this time +satisfied them that the Indians are not upon the upper plain. It is not +likely, after the pains they had taken to smoke them in the cave and +afterwards shut them up. Besides, the distribution of the spoils would +be an attraction sure to draw them back to the waggons, and speedily. + +Becoming satisfied that there is no longer a likelihood of their being +pursued across the plain, Wilder proposes that they again make stop; +this time to obtain sleep, which in their anxiety during their previous +spell of rest they did not attempt. He makes the proposal out of +consideration for his comrade, who for some time, as he can see, has +evidently been hard pressed to keep up with him. + +"We kin lie by till sun-up," says Walt; "an' then, if we see any sign o' +pursoot, kin stay hyar till the sun goes down agin. These shin oaks +will gie us kiver enuf. Squatted, there'll be no chance o' thar +diskiverin' us, unless they stumble right atop o' us." His companion is +not in the mood to make objection, and the two lay themselves along the +earth. The miniature forest not only gives them the protection of a +screen but a soft bed, as the tiny trunks and leaf-laden branches become +pressed down beneath their bodies. + +They remain awake only long enough to give Hamersley's wound such +dressing as the circumstances permit, and then both sink into slumber. + +With the young prairie merchant it is neither deep nor profound. Horrid +visions float before his rapt senses--scenes of red carnage--causing him +ever and anon to awake with a start, once or twice with a cry that wakes +his companion. + +Otherwise Walt Wilder would have slept as soundly as if reposing on the +couch of a log cabin a thousand miles removed from any scene of danger. +It is no new thing for him to go to sleep with the yell of savages +sounding in his ears. For a period of over twenty years he has daily, +as nightly, stretched his huge form along mountain slope or level +prairie, and often with far more danger of having his "hair raised" +before rising erect again. For ten years he belonged to the "Texas +Rangers"--that strange organisation that has existed ever since Stephen +Austin first planted his colony in the land of the "Lone Star." If on +this night the ex-Ranger is more than usually restless, it is from +anxiety about his comrade, coupled with the state of his nervous system, +stirred to feverish excitement by the terrible conflict through which +they have just passed. Notwithstanding all, he slumbers in long spells, +at times snoring like an alligator. + +At no time does the ex-Ranger stand in need of much sleep, even after +the most protracted toil. Six hours is his usual daily or nocturnal +dose; and as the grey dawn begins to glimmer over the tops of the shin +oaks, he springs to his feet, shakes the dew from his shoulders like a +startled stag, and then stoops down to examine the condition of his +wounded comrade. + +"Don't ye git up yit, Frank," he says. "We mustn't start till we hev a +clar view all roun', an' be sure there's neery redskin in sight. Then +we kin take the sun a leetle on our left side, an' make tracks to the +south-eastart. How is't wi' ye?" + +"I feel weak as water. Still I fancy I can travel a little farther." + +"Wall, we'll go slow. Ef there's none o' the skunks arter us, we kin +take our time. Durn me! I'm still a wonderin' what Injuns they war; +I'm a'most sartint thar the Tenawa Kimanch--a band o' the Buffler-eaters +an' the wust lot on all the parairia. Many's the fight we rangers used +to hev wi' 'em, and many's the one o' 'em this child hev rubbed out. Ef +I only hed my rifle hyar--durn the luck hevin' to desart that gun--I ked +show you nine nicks on her timmer as stan' for nine Tenawa Kimanch. +Ef't be them, we've got to keep well to the southart. Thar range lays +most in the Canadyen, or round the head o' Big Wichitu, an' they mout +cross a corner o' the Staked Plain on thar way home. Tharfer we must go +southart a good bit, and try for the north fork o' the Brazos. Ef we +meet Indian thar, they'd be Southern Kimanch--not nigh sech feeroshus +varmints as them. Do you know, Frank, I've been hevin' a dream 'bout +them Injuns as attacked us?" + +"A dream! So have I. It is not strange for either of us to dream of +them. What was yours, Walt?" + +"Kewrus enuf mine war, though it warn't all a dreem. I reck'n I war +more 'n half awake when I tuk to thinkin' about 'em, an' 'twar somethin' +I seed durin' the skrimmage. Didn't you observe nothin' queery?" + +"Rather say, nothing that was not that way. It was all queer enough, +and terrible, too." + +"That this child will admit wi' full freedom. But I've f't redskin +afore in all sorts an' shapes, yet niver seed redskin sech as them." + +"In what did they differ from other savages? I saw nothing different." + +"But I did; leastways, I suspeck I did. Didn't you spy 'mong the lot +two or three that had ha'r on thar faces?" + +"Yes; I noticed that. I thought nothing of it. It's common among the +Comanches and other tribes of the Mexican territory, many of whom are of +mixed breed--from the captive Mexican women they have among them." + +"The ha'r I seed didn't look like it grew on the face o' a mixed blood." + +"But there are pure white men among them--outlaws who have run away from +civilisation and turned renegades--as also captives they have taken, who +become Indianised, as the Mexicans call it. Doubtless it may have been +some of these we saw." + +"Wall, you may be right, Frank. Sartint thar war one I seed wi' a beard +'most as big as my own--only it war black. His hide war black, too, or +nigh to it; but ef that skunk wan't white un'erneath a coatin' o' +charcoal an' vermilion then Walt Wilder don't know a Kristyun from a +heethun. I ain't no use spek'latin' on't now. White, black, +yella-belly, or red, they've put us afoot on the parairia, an' kim +darned nigh wipin' us out althegither. We've got a fair chance o' goin' +un'er yet, eyther from thirst or the famishment o' empty stomaks. I'm +hungry enuf already to eat a coyat. Thar's a heavy row afore us, Frank, +an' we must strengthen our hearts to hoein' o' it. Wall, the sun's up; +an' as thar don't appear to be any obstrukshun, I reck'n we'd best be +makin' tracks." + +Hamersley slowly and somewhat reluctantly rises to his feet. He still +feels in poor condition for travelling. But to stay there is to die; +and bracing himself to the effort, he steps out side by side with his +colossal companion. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +THE DEPARTURE OF THE PLUNDERERS. + +On the day after the capture of the caravan the Indians, having consumed +all the whisky found in the waggons, and become comparatively sober, +prepared to move off. + +The captured goods, made up into convenient parcels, were placed upon +mules and spare horses. Of both they had plenty, having come prepared +for such a sequel to their onslaught upon the traders. + +The warriors, having given interment to their dead comrades, leaving the +scalped and mutilated corpses of the white men to the vultures and +wolves, mounted and marched off. + +Before leaving the scene of their sanguinary exploit, they had drawn the +waggons into a close clump and set fire to them, partly from a wanton +instinct of destruction, partly from the pleasure of beholding a great +bonfire, but also with some thoughts that it might be as well thus to +blot out all the traces of a tragedy for which the Americans--of whom +even these freebooters felt dread--might some day call them to account. + +They did not all go together, but separated into two parties on the spot +where they had passed the night. They were parties, however, of very +unequal size, one of them numbering only four individuals. + +The other, which constituted the main body of the plunderers, was the +band of the Tenawa Comanchey, under their chief, Horned Lizard. These +last turned eastward, struck off towards the head waters of the Big +Witches, upon which and its tributaries lie their customary roving +grounds. + +The lesser party went off in almost the opposite direction, +south-westerly, leaving the Llano Estacado on their left, and journeying +on, crossed the Rio Pecos at a point below and outside the farthest +frontier settlement of New Mexico towards the prairies. Then, shaping +their course nearly due south, they skirted the spurs of the Sierra +Blanca, that in this latitude extend eastward almost to the Pecos. + +On arriving near the place known as Gran Quivira--where once stood a +prosperous Spanish town, devoted to gathering gold, now only a ruin, +scarcely traceable, and altogether without record--they again changed +their course, almost zigzagging back in a north-westerly direction. +They were making towards a depression seen in the Sierra Blanca, as if +with the intention to cross the mountains toward the valley of the Del +Norte. They might have reached the valley without this circumstance, by +a trail well known and often travelled. But it appeared as if this was +just what they wanted to avoid. + +One of the men composing this party was he already remarked upon as +having a large beard and whiskers. A second was one of those spoken of +as more slightly furnished with these appendages, while the other two +were beardless. + +All four were of deep bronze complexion, and to all appearance +pure-blooded aboriginals. That the two with hirsute sign spoke to one +another in Spanish was no sure evidence of their not being Indians. It +was within the limits of New Mexican territory, where there are many +Indians who converse in Castilian as an ordinary language. + +He with the whiskered cheeks--the chief of the quartet, as well as the +tallest of them--had not left behind the share of plunder that had been +allotted to him. It was still in his train, borne on the backs of seven +strong mules, heavily loaded. These formed an _atajo_ or pack-train, +guided and driven by the two beardless men of the party, who seemed to +understand mule driving as thoroughly as if they had been trained to the +calling of the _arriero_; and perhaps so had they been. + +The other two took no trouble with the pack-animals, but rode on in +front, conversing _sans souci_, and in a somewhat jocular vein. + +The heavily-bearded man was astride a splendid black horse; not a +Mexican mustang, like that of his companions, but a large sinewy animal, +that showed the breed of Kentucky. And so should he--since he was the +same steed Frank Hamersley had been compelled to leave behind in that +rapid rush into the crevice of the cliff. + +"This time, Roblez, we've made a pretty fair haul of it," remarked he +who bestrode the black. "What with the silks and laces--to say nothing +of this splendid mount between my legs--I think I may say that our time +has not been thrown away." + +"Yours hasn't, anyhow. My share won't be much." + +"Come, come, _teniente_! don't talk in that way. You should be +satisfied with a share proportioned to your rank. Besides, you must +remember the man who puts down the stake has the right to draw the +winnings. But for me there would have been no spoils to share. Isn't +it so?" + +This truth seeming to produce an impression on Roblez's mind, he made +response in the affirmative. + +"Well, I'm glad you acknowledge it," pursued the rider of the black. +"Let there be no disputes between us; for you know, Roblez, we can't +afford to quarrel. You shall have a liberal percentage on this lucky +venture; I promise it. By the bye, how much do you think the plunder +ought to realise?" + +"Well," responded Roblez, restored to a cheerful humour, "if properly +disposed of in El Paso or Chihuahua, the lot ought to fetch from fifteen +to twenty thousand dollars. I see some silk-velvet among the stuff that +would sell high, if you could get it shown to the rich damsels of +Durango or Zacatecas. One thing sure, you've got a good third of the +caravan stock." + +"Ha! ha! More than half of it in value. The Horned lizard went in for +bulk. I let him have it to his heart's content. He thinks more of +those cheap cotton prints, with their red and green and yellow flowers, +than all the silk ever spun since the days of Mother Eve. Ha! ha! ha!" + +The laugh, in which Roblez heartily joined, was still echoing on the air +as the two horsemen entered a pass leading through the mountains. It +was the depression in the sierra, seen shortly after parting with the +Horned Lizard and his band. It was a pass rugged with rock, and almost +trackless, here and there winding about, and sometimes continued through +canons or clefts barely wide enough to give way to the mules with the +loads upon their backs. + +For all this the animals of the travellers seemed to journey along it +without difficulty, only the American horse showing signs of +awkwardness. All the others went as if they had trodden it before. + +For several hours they kept on through this series of canons and +gorges--here and there crossing a transverse ridge that, cutting off a +bend, shortened the distance. + +Just before sunset the party came to a halt; not in the defile itself, +but in one of still more rugged aspect, that led laterally into the side +of the mountain. In this there was no trace or sign of travel--no +appearance of its having been entered by man or animal. + +Yet the horse ridden by Roblez, and the pack-mules coming after, entered +with as free a step as if going into a well-known enclosure. True, the +chief of the party, mounted on the Kentucky steed, had gone in before +them; though this scarce accounted for their confidence. + +Up this unknown gorge they rode until they had reached its end. There +was no outlet, for it was a _cul-de-sac_--a natural court--such as are +often found among the amygdaloidal mountains of Mexico. + +At its extremity, where it narrowed to a width of about fifty feet, lay +a huge boulder of granite that appeared to block up the path; though +there was a clear space between it and the cliff rising vertically +behind it. + +The obstruction was only apparent, and did not cause the leading savage +of the party to make even a temporary stop. At one side there was an +opening large enough to admit the passage of a horse; and into this he +rode, Roblez following, and also the mules in a string, one after the +other. + +Behind the boulder was an open space of a few square yards, of extent +sufficient to allow room for turning a horse. The savage chief wheeled +his steed, and headed him direct for the cliff; not with the design of +dashing his brains against the rock, but to force him into a cavern, +whose entrance showed its disc in the facade of the precipice, dark and +dismal as the door of an Inquisitorial prison. + +The horse snorted, and shied back; but the ponderous Mexican spur, with +its long sharp rowel-points, soon drove him in; whither he was followed +by the mustang of Roblez and the mules--the latter going in as +unconcernedly as if entering a stable whose stalls were familiar to +them. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +A TRANSFORMATION. + +It was well on in the afternoon of the following day before the four +spoil-laden savages who had sought shelter in the cave again showed +themselves outside. Then came they filing forth, one after the other, +in the same order as they had entered; but so changed in appearance that +no one seeing them come out of the cavern could by any possibility have +recognised them as the same men who had the night before gone into it. +Even their animals had undergone some transformation. The horses were +differently caparisoned; the flat American saddle having been removed +from the back of the grand Kentucky steed, and replaced by the deep-tree +Mexican _silla_, with its _corona_ of stamped leather and wooden +_estribos_. The mules, too, were rigged in a different manner, each +having the regular _alpareja_, or pack-saddle, with the broad +_apishamores_ breeched upon its hips; while the spoils, no longer in +loose, carelessly tied-up bundles, were made up into neat packs, as +goods in regular transportation by an _atajo_. + +The two men who conducted them had altogether a changed appearance. +Their skins were still of the same colour--the pure bronze-black of the +Indian--but, instead of the eagle's feathers late sticking up above +their crowns, both had their heads now covered with simple straw hats; +while sleeveless coats of coarse woollen stuff, with stripes running +transversely--_tilmas_--shrouded their shoulders, their limbs having +free play in white cotton drawers of ample width. A leathern belt, and +apron of reddish-coloured sheepskin, tanned, completed the costume of an +_arriero_ of the humbler class--the _mozo_, or assistant. + +But the change in the two other men--the chief and him addressed as +Roblez--was of a far more striking kind. They had entered the cave as +Indians, warriors of the first rank, plumed, painted, and adorned with +all the devices and insignia of savage heraldry. They came out of it as +white men, wearing the costume of well-to-do rancheros--or rather that +of town traders--broad glazed hats upon their heads, cloth jackets and +trousers--the latter having the seats and insides of the legs fended +with a lining of stamped leather; boots with heavy spurs upon their +feet, crape sashes around the waist, machetes strapped along the flaps +of their saddles, and seraphs resting folded over the croup, gave the +finishing touch to their travelling equipment. These, with the well +appointed _atajo_ of mules, made the party one of peaceful merchants +transporting their merchandise from town to town. + +On coming out of the cave, the leader, looking fresh and bright from his +change of toilet and late purification of his skin, glanced up towards +the sky, as if to consult the sun as to the hour. At the same time he +drew a gold watch from his vest pocket, and looked also at that. + +"We'll be just in the right time, Roblez," he said. "Six hours yet +before sunset. That will get us out into the valley, and in the river +road. We're not likely to meet any one after nightfall in these days of +Indian alarms. Four more will bring us to Albuquerque, long after the +sleepy townsfolk have gone to bed. We've let it go late enough, anyhow, +and mustn't delay here any longer. Look well to your mules, _mozos! +Vamonos_!" + +At the word all started together down the gorge, the speaker, as before, +leading the way, Roblez next, and the mozos with their laden mules +stringing out in the rear. + +Soon after, they re-entered the mountain defile, and, once more heading +north-westward, silently continued on for the valley of the Rio del +Norte. Their road, as before, led tortuously through canons and rugged +ravines--no road at all, but a mere bridle path, faintly indicated by +the previous passage of an occasional wayfarer or the tracks of straying +cattle. + +The sun was just sinking over the far western Cordilleras when the +precipitous wall of the Sierra Blanca, opening wider on each side of the +defile, disclosed to the spoil-laden party a view of the broad level +plain known as the valley of the Del Norte. + +Soon after, they had descended to it; and in the midst of night, with a +starry sky overhead, were traversing the level road upon which the broad +wheel-tracks of rude country carts--_carretas_--told of the proximity of +settlements. It was a country road, leading out from the foot-hills of +the sierra to a crossing of the river, near the village of Tome, where +it intersected with the main route of travel running from El Paso in the +south through all the riverine towns of New Mexico. + +Turning northward from Tome, the white robbers, late disguised as +Indians, pursued their course towards the town of Albuquerque. Any one +meeting them on the road would have mistaken them for a party of traders +_en route_ from the Rio Abajo to the capital of Santa Fe. + +But they went not so far. Albuquerque was the goal of their journey, +though on arriving there--which they did a little after midnight--they +made no stop in the town, nor any noise to disturb its inhabitants, at +that hour asleep. + +Passing silently through the unpaved streets, they kept on a little +farther. A large house or hacienda, tree shaded, and standing outside +the suburbs, was the stopping place they were aiming at; and towards +this they directed their course. There was a _mirador_ or belvidere +upon the roof--the same beside which Colonel Miranda and his American +guest, just twelve months before, had stood smoking cigars. + +As then, there was a guard of soldiers within the covered entrance, with +a sentry outside the gate. He was leaning against the postern, his form +in the darkness just distinguishable against the grey-white of the wall. + +"_Quien-viva_?" he hailed as the two horsemen rode up, the hoof-strokes +startling him out of a half-drunken doze. + +"_El Coronel-Commandante_!" responded the tall man in a tone that told +of authority. + +It proved to be countersign sufficient, the speaker's voice being +instantly recognised. + +The sentry, bringing his piece to the salute, permitted the horsemen to +pass without further parley, as also the _atajo_ in their train, all +entering and disappearing within the dark doorway, just as they had made +entrance into the mouth of the mountain cavern. + +While listening to the hoof-strokes of the animals ringing on the +pavement of the _patio_ inside, the sentinel had his reflections and +conjectures. He wondered where the colonel-commandant could have been +to keep him so long absent from his command, and he had perhaps other +conjectures of an equally perplexing nature. They did not much trouble +him, however. What mattered it to him how the commandant employed his +time, or where it was spent, so long as he got his _sueldo_ and rations? +He had them with due regularity, and with this consoling reflection he +wrapped his yellow cloak around him, leaned against the wall, and soon +after succumbed to the state of semi-watchfulness from which the +unexpected event had aroused him. + +"Carrambo!" exclaimed the Colonel to his subordinate, when, after +looking to the stowage of the plunder, the two men sat together in a +well-furnished apartment of the hacienda, with a table, decanters, and +glasses between them. "It's been a long, tedious tramp, hasn't it? +Well, we've not wasted our time, nor had our toil for nothing. Come, +_teniente_, fill your glass again, and let us drink to our commercial +adventure. Here's that in the disposal of our goods we may be as +successful as in their purchase!" + +Right merrily the lieutenant refilled his glass, and responded to the +toast of his superior officer. + +"I suspect, Roblez," continued the Colonel, "that you have been all the +while wondering how I came to know about this caravan whose spoil is to +enrich us--its route--the exact time of its arrival, the strength of its +defenders--everything? You think our friend the Horned Lizard gave me +all this information." + +"No, I don't; since that could not well be. How was Horned Lizard to +know himself--that is, in time to have sent word to you? In truth, _mio +Coronel_, I am, as you say, in a quandary about all that. I cannot even +guess at the explanation." + +"This would give it to you, if you could read; but I know you cannot, +_mio teniente_; your education has been sadly neglected. Never mind, I +shall read it for you." + +As the colonel was speaking he had taken from the drawer of a cabinet +that stood close by a sheet of paper folded in the form of a letter. It +was one, though it bore no postmark. For all that, it looked as if it +had travelled far--perchance carried by hand. It had in truth come all +the way across the prairies. Its superscription was:-- + +"El Coronel Miranda, Commandante del Distrito Militario de Albuquerque, +Nuevo Mexico." + +Its contents, also in Spanish, translated read thus:-- + +"My dear Colonel Miranda,--I am about to carry out the promise made to +you at our parting. I have my mercantile enterprise in a forward state +of readiness for a start over the plains. My caravan will not be a +large one, about six or seven waggons with less than a score of men; but +the goods I take are valuable in an inverse ratio to their bulk-- +designed for the `ricos' of your country. I intend taking departure +from the frontier town of Van Buren, in the State of Arkansas, and shall +go by a new route lately discovered by one of our prairie traders, that +leads part way along the Canadian river, by you called `Rio de la +Canada,' and skirting the great plain of the Llano Estacado at its upper +end. This southern route makes us more independent of the season, so +that I shall be able to travel in the fall. If nothing occur to delay +me in the route, I shall reach New Mexico about the middle of November, +when I anticipate renewing those relations of a pleasant friendship in +which you have been all the giver and I all the receiver. + +"I send this by one of the spring caravans starting from Independence +for Santa Fe, in the hope that it will safely reach you. + +"I subscribe myself, dear Colonel Miranda,-- + +"Your grateful friend,-- + +"Francis Hamersley." + +"Well, _teniente_," said his Colonel, as he refolded the far-fetched +epistle, and returned it to the drawer, "do you comprehend matters any +clearer now?" + +"Clear as the sun that shines over the Llano Estacado," was the reply of +the lieutenant, whose admiration for the executive qualities of his +superior officer, along with the bumpers he had imbibed, had now exalted +his fancy to a poetical elevation. "_Carrai-i! Esta un golpe +magnifico_! (It's a splendid stroke!) Worthy of Manuel Armilo himself. +Or even the great Santa Anna!" + +"A still greater stroke than you think it, for it is double--two birds +killed with the same stone. Let us again drink to it!" + +The glasses were once more filled, and once more did the associated +bandits toast the nefarious enterprise they had so successfully +accomplished. + +Then Roblez rose to go to the _cuartel_ or barracks, where he had his +place of sleeping and abode, bidding _buena noche_ to his colonel. + +The latter also bethought him of bed, and, taking a lamp from the table, +commenced moving towards his _cuarto de camara_. + +On coming opposite a picture suspended against the _sala_ wall--the +portrait of a beautiful girl--he stopped in front, for a moment gazed +upon it, and then into a mirror that stood close by. + +As if there was something in the glass that reflected its shadow into +his very soul, the expression of exultant triumph, so lately depicted +upon his face, was all at once swept from it, giving place to a look of +blank bitterness. + +"One is gone," he said, in a half-muttered soliloquy; "one part of the +stain wiped out--thanks to the Holy Virgin for that. But the other; and +she--where, where?" + +And with these words he staggered on towards his chamber. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +STRUGGLING AMONG THE SAGES. + +It is the fourth day after forsaking the couch among the shin oaks, and +the two fugitives are still travelling upon the Llano Estacado. They +have made little more than sixty miles to the south-eastward, and have +not yet struck any of the streams leading out to the lower level of the +Texan plain. + +Their progress has been slow; for the wounded man, instead of recovering +strength, has grown feebler. His steps are now unequal and tottering. +In addition to the loss of blood, something else has aided to disable +him--the fierce cravings of hunger and the yet more insufferable agony +of thirst. + +His companion is similarly afflicted; if not in so great a degree, +enough to make him also stagger in his steps. Neither has had any water +since the last drop drank amid the waggons, before commencing the fight; +and since then a fervent sun shining down upon them, with no food save +crickets caught in the plain, an occasional horned frog, and some fruit +of the _opuntia_ cactus--the last obtained sparingly. + +Hunger has made havoc with both, sad and quick. Already at the end of +the fourth day their forms are wasted. They are more like spectres than +men. + +And the scene around them is in keeping. The plain, far as the eye can +reach, is covered with _artemisia_, whose hoary foliage, in close +contact at the tops, displays a continuation of surface like a vast +winding-sheet spread over the world. + +Across this fall the shadows of the two men, proportioned to their +respective heights. That of the ex-Ranger extends nearly a mile before +him; for the sun is low down, and they have its beams upon their backs. + +They are facing eastward, in the hope of being able to reach the brow of +the Llano where it abuts on the Texan prairies; though in the heart of +one of them this hope is nearly dead. Frank Hamersley has but slight +hopes that he will ever again see the homes of civilisation, or set foot +upon its frontier. Even the ci-devant Ranger inclines to a similar way +of thinking. + +Not far off are other animated beings that seem to rejoice. The shadows +of the two men are not the only ones that move over the sunlit face of +the artemisia. There, too, are outlined the wings of birds--large birds +with sable plumage and red naked necks, whose species both know well. +They are _zopilotes_--the vultures of Mexico. + +A score of such shadows are flitting over the sage--a score of the birds +are wheeling in the air above. + +It is a sight to pain the traveller, even when seen at a distance. Over +his own head it may well inspire him with fear. He cannot fail to read +in it a forecast of his own fate. + +The birds are following the two men, as they would a wounded buffalo or +stricken deer. They soar and circle above them, at times swooping +portentously near. They do not believe them to be spectres. Wasted as +their flesh may be, there will still be a banquet upon their bones. + +Now and then Walt Wilder casts a glance up towards them. He is anxious, +though he takes care to hide his anxiety from his comrade. He curses +the foul creatures, not in speech--only in heart, and silently. + +For a time the wearied wayfarers keep on without exchanging a word. +Hitherto consolation has come from the side of the ex-Ranger; but he +seems to have spent his last effort, and is himself now despairing. + +In Hamersley's heart hope has been gradually dying out, as his strength +gets further exhausted. At length the latter gives way, the former at +the same time. + +"No farther, Walt!" he exclaims, coming to a stop. "I can't go a step +further. There is a fire in my throat that chokes me; something grips +me within. It is dragging me to the ground." + +The hunter stops too. He makes no attempt to urge his comrade on. He +perceives it would be idle. + +"Go on yourself," Hamersley adds, gasping out the words. "You have yet +strength left, and may reach water. I cannot, but I can die, I'm not +afraid to die. Leave me, Walt; leave me!" + +"Niver!" is the response, in a hoarse, husky voice, but firm, as if it +came from a speaking-trumpet. + +"You will; you must. Why should two lives be sacrificed for one? Yours +may still be saved. Take the gun along with you. You may find +something. Go, comrade--friend--go!" + +Again the same response, in a similar tone. + +"I sayed, when we were in the fight," adds the hunter, "an' aterwards, +when gallupin' through the smoke, that livin' or dyin' we'd got to stick +thegither. Didn't I say that, Frank Hamersley? I repeat it now. Ef +you go unner hyar in the middle o' this sage-brush, Walt Wilder air +goin' to wrap his karkiss in a corner o' the same windin' sheet. There +ain't much strength remainin' in my arms now, but enuf, I reck'n, to +keep them buzzarts off for a good spell yit. They don't pick our bones +till I've thinned thar count anyhow. Ef we air to be rubbed out, it'll +be by the chokin' o' thirst, and not the gripin' o' hunger. What durned +fools we've been, not to a-thinked o' 't afore! but who'd iver think o' +eatin' turkey buzzart? Wall, it's die dog or swaller the hatchet; so +onpalatable as thar flesh may be, hyar goes to make a meal o' it!" + +While speaking, he has carried the gun to his shoulder. + +Simultaneous with his last words comes the crack, quickly followed by +the descent of a zopilote among the sages. + +"Now, Frank," he says, stooping to pick up the dead bird, while the +scared flock flies farther away, "let's light a bit o' a fire, an' cook +it. Thar's plenty o' sage for the stuffin', an' its own flavour'll do +for seasonin' 'stead o' inyuns. I reck'n we kin git some o' it down, by +holdin' our noses; an' at all events, it'll keep us alive a leetle +longer. Wagh, ef we only hed water!" + +As if a fresh hope has come suddenly across his mind, he once more +raises himself erect to the full stretch of his gigantic stature, and +standing thus, gazes eastwardly across the plain. + +"Thar's a ridge o' hills out that way," he says. "I'd jest spied it +when you spoke o' giein out. Whar thar's hills, thar's a likelihood o' +streams. Sposin', Frank, you stay hyar, whiles I make tracks torst +them. They look like they wa'n't mor'n ten miles off anyhow. I ked +easy get back by the mornin'. D'ye think ye kin hold out thet long by +swallerin' a bit o' the buzzart?" + +"I think I could hold out that long as well without it. It's more the +thirst that's killing me. I feel as if liquid fire was coursing through +my veins. If you believe there be any chance of finding water, go, +Walt." + +"I'll do so; but don't you sturve in the meanwhile. Cook the critter +afore lettin' it kim to thet. Ye've got punk, an' may make a fire o' +the sage-brush. I don't intend to run the risk o' sturvin' myself; an' +as I mayn't find any thin' on the way, I'll jest take one o' these +sweet-smellin' chickens along wi' me." + +He has already re-loaded the rifle; and, once more pointing its muzzle +towards the sky, he brings down a second of the zopilotes. + +"Now," he says, taking up the foul carcase, and slinging it to his belt, +"keep up your heart till this chile return to ye. I'm sure o' gettin' +back by the mornin'; an' to make sartint 'bout the place, jest you squat +unner the shadder o' yon big palmetto--the which I can see far enuff off +to find yur wharabouts 'thout any defeequelty." + +The palmetto spoken of is, in truth, not a "palmetto," though a plant of +kindred genus. It is a _yucca_ of a species peculiar to the high table +plains of Northern and Central Mexico, with long sword-shaped leaves +springing aloe-like from a core in the centre, and radiating in all +directions, so as to form a spherical chevaux-de-frize. Its top stands +nearly six feet above the surface of the ground, and high over the +artemisias; while its dark, rigid spikes, contrasted with the frosted +foliage of the sage, render it a conspicuous landmark that can be seen +far off over the level plain. + +Staggering on till he has reached it, Hamersley drops down on its +eastern side, where its friendly shadow gives him protection from the +sun, fervid, though setting; while that of Walt Wilder is still +projected to its full length upon the plain. Saying not another word, +with the rifle across his shoulder and the turkey buzzard dangling down +his thigh, he takes departure from the spot, striking eastward towards +the high land dimly discernible on the horizon. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +A HUNTRESS. + +"_Vamos_, Lolita! hold up, my pretty pet! Two leagues more, and you +shall bury that velvet snout of yours in the soft _gramma_ grass, and +cool your heated hoof in a crystal stream. Ay, and you shall have a +half peck of pinon nuts for your supper, I promise you. You have done +well to-day, but don't let us get belated. At night, as you know, we +might be lost on the Llano, and the wicked wolves eat us both up. That +would be a sad thing, _mia yegua_. We must not let them have a chance +to dispose of us in that manner. _Adelante_!" + +Lolita is a mustang pony of clear chestnut colour, with white mane and +tail; while the person thus apostrophising her is a young girl seated +astride upon its back. + +A beautiful girl, apparently under twenty of age, but with a certain +commanding mien that gives her the appearance of being older. Her +complexion, though white, has a tinge of that golden brown, or olive, +oft observed in the Andalusian race; while scimitar shaped eyebrows, +with hair of silken texture, black as the shadows of night, and a dark +down on the upper lip, plainly proclaim the Moorish admixture. + +It is a face of lovely cast and almost Grecian contour, with features of +classic regularity; while the absence of obliquity in the orbs of the +eye--despite the dusky hue of her akin--forbids the belief in Indian +blood. + +Although in a part of the world where such might be expected, there is, +in truth, not a taint of it in her veins. The olivine tint is Hispano +Moriscan--a complexion, if not more beautiful, certainly more +picturesque than that of the Saxon blonde. + +With the damask-red dancing out upon her cheeks, her eyes aglow from the +equestrian exercise she has been taking, the young girl looks the +picture of physical health; while the tranquil expression upon her +features tells of mental contentment. + +Somewhat singular is her costume, as the equipment. As already said, +she bestrides her mustang man-fashion, the mode of Mexico; while a light +fowling-piece, suspended _en bandouliere_, hangs down behind her back. + +A woollen seraph of finest wool lies scarf-like across her left +shoulder, half concealing a velveteen vest or spencer, close-buttoned +over the rounded hemispheres of her bosom. Below, an embroidered +skirt--the _enagua_--is continued by a pair of white _calzoncillas_, +with fringe falling over her small feet, they are booted and spurred. + +On her head is a hat of soft vicuna wool, with a band of bullion, a +bordering of gold lace around the rim, and a plume of heron's feather +curving above the crown. + +This, with her attitude on horseback, might seem _outre_ in the eyes of +a stranger to the customs of her country. The gun and its concomitant +accoutrements give her something of a masculine appearance, and at the +first glance might cause her to be mistaken for a man--a beardless +youth. + +But the long silken tresses scattered loosely over her shoulders, the +finely-cut features, the delicate texture of the skin, the petticoat +skirt, the small hand, with slender tapering fingers stretched forward +to caress the neck of the mustang mare, are signs of femininity not to +be misunderstood. + +A woman--a huntress; the character clearly proclaimed by a brace of +hounds--large dogs of the mastiff bloodhound breed--following at the +heels of the horse. And a huntress who has been successful in the +chase--as proved by two prong-horn antelopes, with shanks tied together, +lying like saddle-bags across the croup. + +The mustang mare needs no spur beyond the sound of that sweet well-known +voice. At the word _adelante_ (forward) she pricks up her ears, gives a +wave of her snow-white tail, and breaks into a gentle canter, the hounds +loping after in long-stretching trot. + +For about ten minutes is this pace continued; when a bird flying athwart +the course, so close that its wings almost brush Lolita's muzzle, causes +her rider to lean back in the saddle and check her suddenly up. + +The bird is a black vulture--a zopilote. It is not slowly soaring in +the usual way, but shooting in a direct line, and swiftly as an arrow +sent from the bow. + +This it is that brings the huntress to a halt; and for a time she +remained motionless, her eye following the vulture in its flight. + +It is seen to join a flock of its fellows, so far off as to look like +specks. The young girl can perceive that they are not flying in any +particular direction, but swooping in circles, as if over some quarry +that lies below. Whatever it is, they do not appear to have yet touched +it. All keep aloft, none of them alighting on the ground, though at +times stooping down, and skimming close to the tops of the sage-bushes +with which the plain is thickly beset. + +These last prevent the huntress from seeing what lies upon the ground; +though she knows there must be something to have attracted the concourse +of zopilotes. Evidently she has enough knowledge of the desert to +understand its signs, and this is one of a significant character. It +not only challenges curiosity, but calls for investigation. + +"Something gone down yonder, and not yet dead?" she mutters, in +interrogative soliloquy. "I wonder what it can be! I never look on +those filthy birds without fear. _Santissima_! how they made me shudder +that time when they flapped their black wings in my own face! I pity +any poor creature threatened by them--even where it but a coyote. It +may be that, or an antelope. Nothing else likely to become their prey +on this bare plain. Come, Lolita! let us go on and see what they're +after. It will take us a little out of our way, and give you some extra +work. You won't mind that, my pet? I know you won't." + +The mare wheels round at a slight pressure upon the rein; and then +commenced her canter in the direction of the soaring flock. + +A mile is passed over, and the birds are brought near; but still the +object attracting them cannot be seen. It may be down among the +artemisias, or perhaps behind a large yucca, whose dark whorl rises +several feet above the sage, and over which the vultures are wheeling. + +As the rider of Lolita arrives within gun-shot distance of the +yucca-tree she checks the mustang to a slower pace--to a walk in short. +In the spectacle of death, in the throes and struggles of an expiring +creature, even though it be but a dumb brute, there is something that +never fails to excite commiseration, mingled with a feeling of awe. +This last has come over the young girl, as she draws near the spot where +the birds are seen circling. + +It has not occurred to her that the cause of their presence may be a +human being, though it is a remembrance of this kind that now prompts +her to ride forward reflectively. For once in her life, with others +around her who were near and dear, she has been herself an object of +like eager solicitude to a flock of zopilotes. + +But she has not the slightest suspicion of its being a human creature +that causes their gathering now. There, upon the Llano Estacado, so +rarely trodden by human feet, and even shunned by almost every species +of animal, she could not. + +As she draws still nearer, a black disc, dimly outlined against the dark +green leaves of the yucca, upon scrutiny, betrays the form of a bird, +itself a vulture. It is dead, impaled upon the sharp spikes of the +plant, as it came there by falling from above. + +A smile curls upon her lips as she sits regarding it. + +"So, _yegua_!" she says, bringing the mare to a stand, and half-turning +her. "I've been losing my time and you your labour. The abominable +birds--it's only one of themselves that has dropped dead, and they're +holding a _velorio_ over it." + +She continues, again facing towards the dead vulture. + +"Now, I wonder if they are only waking it, or if the wakers are +cannibals, and intend making a repast on one of their own kind. That +would be a curious fact for our natural historian, Don Prospero. +Suppose we stay awhile and see?" + +For a moment she seems undecided as to staying or going. Only for a +moment, when an incident occurs that changes the current of her thoughts +from scientific curiosity to something of fear. + +The bloodhounds that have lagged behind in the scurry across the plain, +now close up; and, instead of stopping by the side of Lolita, rush on +towards the yucca. It is not the odour of the dead buzzard--strong as +that may be--that attracts them; but the scent of what is more congenial +to their sanguinary instincts. + +On arriving at the tree they run round to its opposite side; and then +spring growling back, as if something they have encountered there has +suddenly brought them to bay. + +"A wounded bear or wolf!" is the muttered reflection of their mistress. + +It has scarce passed her lips, when she is made aware of her mistake. +Above the continued baying of the dogs she can distinguish the tones of +a human voice; and at the same instant, a man's head and arm appear +above the spikes of the plant--a hand clutching the hilt of a +long-bladed knife! + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +"DOWN, DOGS!" + +Notwithstanding her apparent _sang-froid_, and the presence of mind she +surely possesses, the rider of Lolita is affrighted--far more than the +vultures, that have soared higher at her approach. + +And no wonder that she is affrighted at such a strange apparition--the +head of a man, with a dark moustache on his lip, holding in his hand a +blade that shows blood upon it! This, too, in such a solitary place! + +Her first thought is to turn Lolita's head and hurry off from the spot. +Then a reflection stays her. The man is evidently alone, and the +expression on his countenance is neither that of villainy nor anger. +The colour of his skin, with the moustache, bespeak him a white man, and +not an Indian. Besides, there is pallor upon his cheeks--a wan, wasted +look, that tells of suffering, not sin. + +All this the quick eye of the huntress takes in at a glance, resolving +her how to act. Instead of galloping away she urges the mustang on +towards the yucca. + +When close up to it she flings herself out of the saddle, and, whip in +hand, rushes up to the hounds, that are still giving tongue and +threatening to spring upon the stranger. + +"_Abajo, perros! abajo, feos_!" (Down, dogs! down, you ugly brutes!) + +"_A tierra_!" she continues to scold, giving each a sharp cut that at +once reduces them to quiescence, causing them to cower at her feet. "Do +you not see the mistake you have made?" she goes on addressing the dogs; +"don't you see the caballero is not an Indio? It is well, sir!" she +adds, turning to the caballero, "well that your skin is white. Had it +been copper-coloured, I'm not certain I could have saved you from +getting it torn. My pets are not partial to the American aboriginal." + +During these somewhat bizarre speeches and the actions that accompany +them, Frank Hamersley--for it is he--stands staring in silent wonder. +What sees he before him? Two huge, fierce-looking dogs, a horse oddly +caparisoned, a young girl, scarce a woman, strangely and picturesquely +garbed. What has he heard? First, the loud baying of two bloodhounds, +threatening to tear him to pieces; then a voice, sweet and musical as +the warbling of a bird! + +Is it all a dream? + +Dreaming he had been, when aroused by the growling of the dogs. But +that was a horrid vision. What he now sees is the very reverse. Demons +had been assaulting him in his sleep. Now there is an angel before his +eyes. + +The young girl has ceased speaking; and as the vertigo, caused by his +sudden uprising, has cleared away from his brain, he begins to believe +in the reality of the objects around him. + +The shock of surprise has imparted a momentary strength that soon +passes; and his feebleness once more returning, he would fall back to +the earth did he not clutch hold of the yucca, whose stiff blades +sustain him. + +"_Valga me Dios_!" exclaims the girl, now more clearly perceiving his +condition. "_Ay de mi_!" she repeats in a compassionate tone, "you are +suffering, sir? Is it hunger? Is it thirst? You have been lost upon +the Llano Estacado?" + +"Hunger, thirst--both, senorita," he answers, speaking for the first +time. "For days I have not tasted either food or drink." + +"_Virgen santissima_! is that so?" + +As she says this she returns to her horse; and, jerking a little wallet +from the saddle, along, with a suspended gourd, again advances towards +him. + +"Here, senor!" she says, plunging her hand into the bag and bringing +forth some cold _tortillas_, "this is all I have; I've been the whole +day from home, and the rest I've eaten. Take the water first; no doubt +you need that most. I remember how I suffered myself. Mix some of this +with it. Trust me, it will restore your strength." + +While speaking she hands him the gourd, which, by its weight, contains +over a pint; and then from another and smaller one she pours some liquid +first into the water and then over the tortillas. It is vinegar, in +which there is an infusion of _chile Colorado_. + +"Am I not robbing you?" inquires Hamersley, as he casts a significant +glance over the wide, sterile plain. + +"No, no! I am not in need, besides I have no great way to go to where I +can get a fresh supply. Drink, senor, drink it all." + +In ten seconds after the calabash is empty. + +"Now eat the tortillas. 'Tis but poor fare, but the _chili vinagre_ +will be sure to strengthen you. We who dwell in the desert know that." + +Her words proved true, for after swallowing a few morsels of the bread +she has besprinkled, the famished man feels as if some restorative +medicine had been administered to him. + +"Do you think you are able to ride?" she asks. + +"I can walk--though, perhaps, not very far." + +"If you can ride there is no need for your walking. You can mount my +mare; I shall go afoot. It is not very far--only six miles." + +"But," protests he, "I must not leave this spot." + +"Indeed!" she exclaims, turning upon her _protege_ a look of surprise. +"For what reason, senor? To stay here would be to perish. You have no +companions to care for you?" + +"I have companions--at least, one. That is why I must remain. Whether +he may return to assist me I know not. He has gone off in search of +water. In any case, he will be certain to seek for me." + +"But why should you stay for him?" + +"Need you ask, senorita? He is my comrade, true and faithful. He has +been the sharer of my dangers--of late no common ones. If he were to +come back and find me gone--" + +"What need that signify, caballero? He will know where to come after +you." + +"How should he know?" + +"Oh, that will be easy enough. Leave it to me. Are you sure he will +find his way back to this place?" + +"Quite sure. This tree will guide him. He arranged it so before +leaving." + +"In that case, there's not any reason for your remaining. On the +contrary. I can see that you need a better bed than sleeping among +these sage-plants. I know one who will give it. Come with me, +caballero? By the time your comrade can get back there'll be one here +to meet him. Lest he should arrive before the messenger I shall send, +this will save him from going astray." + +While speaking she draws forth a small slip of paper from a pouch +carried _a la chatelaine_; along with it a pencil. She is about to +write, when a thought restrains her. + +"Does your comrade understand Spanish?" she asks. + +"Only a word or two. He speaks English, or, as we call it, American." + +"Can he read?" + +"Indifferently. Enough, I suppose, for--" + +"Senor," she says, interrupting him, "I need not ask if you can write. +Take this, and put it in your own language. Say you are gone south, due +south, to a distance of about six miles. Tell your friend to stay here +till some one comes to meet and conduct him to where you'll be found." + +Hamersley perceives the rationality of these instructions. There is no +reason why he should not do as desired, and go at once with her who +gives them. By staying some mischance might still happen, and he may +never see his fair rescuer again. Who can tell what may arise in the +midst of that mysterious desert? By going he will the sooner be able to +send succour to his comrade. + +He hesitates no longer, but writes upon the piece of paper--in large, +carefully-inscribed letters, so that the _ci-devant_ Ranger need have no +difficulty in deciphering them:-- + +"Saved by an Angel.--Strike due south. Six miles from this you will +find me. There is a horse, and you can take up his tracks. If you stay +here for a time, one will come and guide you." + +The huntress takes the paper from his hand, and glances at the writing, +as if out of curiosity to read the script of a language unknown to her. +But something like a smile playing around her lips might lead one to +believe she has divined the meaning of at least the initial sentence. + +She makes no remark, but stepping towards the yucca and reaching up, +impales the piece of paper on one of its topmost spikes. + +"Now, caballero," she says, "you mount my mare. See, she stands ready +for you." + +Hamersley again protests, saying he can walk well enough. + +But his tottering steps contradict him, and he urges his objections in +vain. + +The young girl appealingly persists, until at length the gallantry of +the Kentuckian gives way, and he climbs reluctantly into the saddle. + +"Now, Lolita!" cries her mistress, "see that your step is sure, or you +shan't have the pinons I promised you. _Adelante! Nos vamos, senor_!" + +So saying, she strikes off through the sage, the mustang stepping by her +side, and the two great hounds, like a rear guard, bringing up behind. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +FOES OR FRIENDS? + +Mounted on the mustang mare, Frank Hamersley pursues his way, wondering +at his strange guide. So lovely a being encountered in such an +out-of-the-way corner of the world--in the midst of a treeless, +waterless desert, over a hundred miles from the nearest civilised +settlement! + +Who is she? Where has she come from? Whither is she conducting him? + +To the last question he will soon have an answer; for as they advance +she now and then speaks words of encouragement, telling him they are +soon to reach a place of rest. + +"Yonder!" she at length exclaims, pointing to two mound-shaped +elevations that rise twin-like above the level of the plain. "Between +those runs our road. Once there, we shall not have much farther to go; +the rancho will be in sight." + +The young prairie merchant makes no reply. He only thinks how strange +it all is--the beautiful being by his side--her dash--her wonderful +knowledge exhibited with such an air of _naivete_--her generous +behaviour--the picturesqueness of her dress--her hunter equipment--the +great dogs trotting at her heels--the dead game on the croup behind--the +animal he bestrides--all are before his mind and mingling in his +thoughts like the unreal phantasmagoria of a dream. + +And not any more like reality is the scene disclosed to his view when, +after passing around the nearest of the twin mound-shaped hills, and +entering a gate-like gorge that opens between them, he sees before him +and below--hundreds of feet below--a valley of elliptical form like a +vast basin scooped out of the plain. But for its oval shape he might +deem it the crater of some extinct volcano. But then, where is the lava +that should have been projected from it? With the exception of the two +hillocks on each hand, all the country around, far as the eye can reach, +is level as the bosom of a placid lake. And otherwise unlike a volcanic +crater is the concavity itself. No gloom down there, no black scoriae, +no returning streams of lava, nor _debris_ of pumice-stone; but, on the +contrary, a smiling vegetation--trees with foliage of different shades, +among which can be distinguished the dark-green frondage of the live-oak +and pecan, the more brilliant verdure of cottonwoods, and the +flower-loaded branches of the wild China-tree. In their midst a glassy +disc that speaks of standing water, with here and there a fleck of +white, which tells of a stream with foaming cascades and cataracts. +Near the lakelet, in the centre, a tiny column of blue smoke ascends +over the tree-tops. This indicates the presence of a dwelling; and as +they advance a little further into the gorge, the house itself can be +descried. + +In contrast with the dreary plain over which he has been so long +toiling, to Hamersley the valley appears a paradise--worthy home of the +Peri who is conducting him down to it. It resembles a landscape painted +upon the concave sides of an immense oval-shaped dish, with the +cloudless sky, like a vast cover of blue glass, arching over it. + +The scene seems scarcely real, and once more the young prairie merchant +begins to doubt the evidence of his senses. After all, is it only a +vision of his brain, distempered by the long strain upon his intellect, +and the agony he has been enduring? Or is it but the _mirage_ of the +desert, that has so oft already deceived him? + +His doubts are dissipated by the sweet voice sounding once more in his +ears. + +"_Mira, caballero_! you see where you are going now? It is not far; you +will need to keep a firm seat in the saddle for the next hundred yards +or so. There is a steep descent and a narrow pathway. Take good hold +with your knees, and trust yourself to the mare. She knows the way +well, and will bear you in safety. Won't you, Lolita? You will, my +pet!" + +At this the mustang gives a soft whimper, as if answering the +interrogatory. + +"I shall myself go before," the girl continues. "So let loose the rein, +and leave Lolita to take her own way." + +After giving this injunction, she turns abruptly to the right, where a +path almost perpendicular leads down a ledge, traversing the facade of +the cliff. Close followed by the mustang, she advances fearlessly along +it. + +Certainly a most dangerous descent, even for one afoot; and if left to +his own will, Hamersley might decline attempting it on horseback. But +he has no choice now, for before he can make either expostulation or +protest, Lolita has struck along the path, and continues with +hind-quarters high in air and neck extended in the opposite direction, +as though standing upon her head! To her rider there is no alternative +but do as he has been directed--stick close to the saddle. This he +manages by throwing his feet forward and laying his back flat along the +croup, till his shoulders come between the crossed shanks of the +prong-horns. + +In this position he remains, without saying a word, or even daring to +look below, till he at length finds himself moving forward with face +upturned to the sky, thus discovering that the animal he bestrides is +once more going along level ground. + +Again he hears the voice of Lolita's mistress, saying, "Now, senor, you +can sit upright; the danger is past. You have behaved well, _yegua-- +yeguita_!" she adds, patting the mare upon the neck; "you shall have the +promised pinons--a whole _cuartilla_ of them." + +Once more stepping to the front, she strikes off among the trees, along +a path which still inclines downward, though now in gentler slope. + +Hamersley's brain is in a whirl. The strange scenes, things, thoughts, +and fancies are weaving weird spells around him; and once more he begins +to think that his senses have either forsaken or are forsaking him. + +This time it is really so, for the long-protracted suffering--the waste +of blood and loss of strength--only spasmodically resuscitated by the +excitement of the strange encounter--is now being succeeded by a fever +of the brain, that is gradually depriving him of his reason. + +He has a consciousness of riding on for some distance farther--under +trees, whose leafy boughs form an arcade over his head, shutting out the +sun. Soon after, all becomes suddenly luminous, as the mustang bears +him out into a clearing, with what appears a log-cabin in the centre. +He sees or fancies the forms of several men standing by its door; and as +the mare comes to a stop in their midst his fair conductor is heard +excitedly exclaiming,-- + +"_Hermano_! take hold of him! _Alerte! Alerte_!" + +At this one of the men springs towards him; whether to be kind, or to +kill, he cannot tell. For before a hand is laid on him the strange +tableau fades from his sight; and death, with all its dark +obliviousness, seems to take possession of his soul. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +"SAVED BY AN ANGEL!" + +The shadow of Walt Wilder is again projected over the Staked Plain, as +before, to a gigantic length. But this time westwardly, from a sun that +is rising instead of setting. + +It is the morning after he parted with his disabled companion; and he is +now making back towards the spot where he had left the latter, the sun's +disc just appearing above the horizon, and shining straight upon his +back. Its rays illumine an object not seen before, which lends to +Walt's shadow a shape weird and fantastic. It is that of a giant, with +something sticking out on each side of his head that resembles a pair of +horns, or as if his neck was embraced by an ox-yoke, the tines tending +diagonally outwards. + +On looking at Walt himself the singularity is at once understood. The +carcase of a deer lies transversely across his back, the legs of the +animal being fastened together so as to form a sling, through which he +has thrust his head, leaving the long slender shanks, like the ends of +the letter X, projecting at each side and high above his shoulders. + +Despite the load thus borne by him, the step of the ex-Ranger is no +longer that of a man either despairing or fatigued. On the contrary, it +is light and elastic; while his countenance shows bright and joyous as +the beams of the ascending sun. His very shadow seems to flit over the +frosted foliage of the artemisias as lightly as the figure of a +gossamer-robed belle gliding across the waxed floor of a ball-room. + +Walt Wilder no longer hungers or thirsts. Though the carcase on his +back is still unskinned, a huge collop cut out of one of its +hind-quarters tells how he has satisfied the first craving; while the +gurgle of water, heard inside the canteen slung under his arm, proclaims +that the second has also been appeased. + +He is now hastening on to the relief of his comrade, happy in the +thought of being able soon to relieve him also from his sufferings. + +Striding lightly among the sage-bushes, and looking ahead for the +landmark that should guide him, he at length catches sight of it. The +palmilla, standing like a huge porcupine upon the plain, cannot be +mistaken; and he descries it at more than a mile's distance, the shadow +of his own head already flickering among its bayonet-like blades. + +Just then something else comes under his eyes, which at once changes the +expression upon his countenance. From gay it grows grave, serious, +apprehensive. A flock of buzzards, seemingly scared by his shadow, have +suddenly flapped up from among the sage-plants, and are now soaring +around, close to the spikes of the palmilla. They have evidently been +down _upon the earth_. And what have they been doing there? + +It is this question, mentally put by Walt Wilder, that has caused the +quick change in his countenance--the result of a painful conjecture. + +"Marciful heavens!" he exclaims, suddenly making halt, the gun almost +dropping from his grasp. "Kin it be possyble? Frank Hamersley gone +under! Them buzzards! They've been upon the groun' to a sartinty. +Darnashin! what ked they a been doin' down thar? Right by the bunch o' +palmetto, jest whar I left him. An' no sign o' himself to be seen? +Marciful heavens! kin it be possyble they've been--?" + +Interrupting himself, he remains motionless, apparently paralysed by +apprehension, mechanically scanning the palmilla, as though from it he +expected an answer to his interrogatory. + +"It air possyble," he continues after a time, "too possyble--too +likesome. He war well-nigh done up, poor young fellur; an' no wonder. +Whar is he now? He must be down by the side o' the bush--down an' dead. +Ef he war alive, he'd be lookin' out for me. He's gone under; an' this +deer-meat, this water, purcured to no purpiss. I mout as well fling +both away; they'll reach him too late." + +Once more resuming his forward stride, he advanced towards the dark mass +above which the vultures are soaring. His shadow, still by a long +distance preceding him, has frightened the birds higher up into the air, +but they show no signs of going altogether away. On the contrary, they +keep circling around, as if they had already commenced a repast, and, +driven off, intend returning to it. + +On what have they been banqueting? On the body of his comrade? What +else can be there? + +Thus questioning himself, the ex-Ranger advances, his heart still aching +with apprehension. Suddenly his eye alights on the piece of paper +impaled upon the topmost spike of the palmilla. The sight gives him +relief, but only for an instant; his conjectures again leading him +astray. + +"Poor young fellur!" is his half-spoken reflection; "he's wrote +somethin' to tell how he died--mayhap somethin' for me to carry back to +the dear 'uns he's left behind in ole Kaintuck. Wall, that thing shall +sartinly be done ef ever this chile gets to the States agin. Darnashin! +only to think how near I war to savin' him; a whole doe deer, an' water +enough to a drownded him! It'll be useless venison now, I shan't care +no more to put tooth into it myself. Frank Hamersley gone dead--the man +o' all others I'd 'a died to keep alive. I'd jest as soon lie down an' +stop breathin' by the side o' him." + +While speaking he moves on towards the palmilla. A few strides bring +him so near the tree that he can see the ground surface about its base. +There is something black among the stems of the sage-bushes. It is not +the dead body of a man, but a buzzard, which he knows to be that he had +shot before starting off. The sight of it causes him again to make +stop. It looks draggled and torn, as if partially dismembered. + +"Kin he hev been eatin' it? Or war it themselves, the cussed kannybals? +Poor Frank, I reck'n I'll find him on t'other side, his body mangled in +the same way. Darn it, 't air kewrous, too. 'Twar on this side he laid +down to git shade from the sun. I seed him squat whiles I war walkin' +away. The sun ain't hot enuf yit to a druv him to westward o' the bush, +though thar for sartin he must be. What's the use o' my stannin' +shilly-shally hyar? I may as well face the sight at oncest, ugly as I +know it'll prove. Hyar goes." + +Steeling himself for the terrible spectacle, which he believes to be +certainly awaiting him, he once more advances towards the tree. + +A dozen strides bring him up, and less than half a dozen more carry him +around it. + +No body, living or dead--no remains of man, mutilated or otherwise! + +For some time Wilder stands in speechless surprise, his glances going +all around. But no human figure is seen, either by the palmilla or +among the sage-bushes beside it. Can the wounded man have crawled away? +But no; why should he? Still, to make sure, the ex-Ranger shouts out, +calling Hamersley by name. + +He gets no response. Alone he hears the echo of his own voice, mingling +with the hoarse croaking of the vultures, scared by his shouts. + +His hunter habits now counsel him to a different course of action. His +comrade cannot be dead, else the corpse would be there. The vultures +could not have eaten up both body and bones. There is no skeleton, no +remains. His fellow fugitive has gone off or been taken. Whither? +While asking the question Wilder sets about the right way to answer it. +As a skilled tracker he begins by examining the signs that should put +him on the trace of his missing companion. At a glance he perceives the +prints of a horse's hoof, and sees they are those of one unshod. This +bodes ill, for the naked-hoofed horse betokens a savage rider--an +Indian. Still, it may not be; and he proceeds to a more careful +scrutiny of the tracks. In a short time he is able to tell that but one +horse has been there, and presumably but one rider, which promises +better. And while shaping conjectures as to who it could have been his +eye ascends to the piece of paper impaled upon the spike, which he has +for a time forgotten. This promises still better. It may clear up +everything. + +Hoping it will, he strides towards and takes hold of it. Lifting it +carefully from the leaf, he spreads it out. He sees some writing in +pencil, which he prepares to read. + +At first sight he supposed it might be a dying record. Now he believes +it may be something else. + +His hands tremble, and his huge frame is convulsed as he holds the paper +to his eyes. + +With a thrill of joy he recognises the handwriting of Hamersley, which +he knows. He is not much of a scholar; still, he can read, and at a +glance makes out the first four words, full of pleasant meaning: + +"_Saved by an Angel_!" + +He reads no farther, till after giving utterance to a "hurrah!" that +might have been heard many miles over the Staked Plain. Then, more +tranquillised, he continues deciphering the chirography of his companion +to the end; when a second shout terminates the effort. + +"Saved by a angel!" he says, muttering to himself. "A angel on the +Staked Plain! Whar can the critter hev come from? No matter whar. +Thar's been one hyar, for sartin. Darn me ef I don't smell the sweet o' +her pettikotes now! This piece o' paper--'t ain't Frank's. I knows he +hedn't a scrap about him. No. Thar's the scent o' a woman on it, sure; +an' whar thar's a woman Frank Hamersley ain't likely to be let die o' +sturvashun. He air too good-lookin' for that. Wall I reck'n it's all +right an' thar ain't no more need for me to hurry. T'war rayther a +scant breakfast I've hed, an' hain't gin this chile's in'ards +saterfacshun. I'll jest chaw another griskin o' the deer-meat to +strengthen me for this six-mile tramp southard." + +In less than five minutes after, the smoke from a sage-stalk fire was +seen ascending from beside the palmilla, and in its blaze, quickly +kindled, a huge piece of venison, cut from the fat flanks of the doe, +weighing at least four pounds, spitted upon one of the stiff blades of +the plant, was rapidly turning from blood red to burnt brown. + +As circumstances had ofttimes compelled the ex-Ranger to eat his +deer-meat underdone, the habit had become his _gout_; and it was, +therefore, not long before the griskin was removed from the spit. Nor +much longer till it ceased to be a griskin--having altogether +disappeared from his fingers, followed by a gurgling sound, as half the +contents of the canteen went washing it down his throat. + +"Now!" he said, springing to his feet, after he had completed his +Homeric repast, "this chile feels strong enuf to face the devil hisself, +an' tharfor he needn't be backward 'bout the encounterin' o' a angel. +So hyar goes to find out Frank Hamersley, an' how _he's_ farin'. +Anyhow, I'll take the deer along in case thar mout be a scarcity o' +eetables, though I reck'n thar's no fear o' that. Whar a angel makes +dwelling-place thar oughter be a full crib, though it may be ambrosyer +or mannar, or some o' them fixin's as a purairy man's stummick ain't +used to. Anyways, a bit o' doe-deer meat won't do no harum. So, Walt +Wilder, ole coon, let's you an' me set our faces southart, an' see +what's to turn up at the tarminashun o' six miles' trampin'." + +Once more shouldering the carcase, he strides off towards the south, +guiding himself by the sun, but more by the hoof-marks of the mustang. +These, though scarce distinguishable, under the over-shadowing +sage-plants, are descried with little difficulty by the experienced eye +of the Ranger. + +On goes he, now and then muttering to himself conjectures as to what +sort of a personage has appropriated and carried off his comrade. But, +with all his jocular soliloquising, he feels certain the _angel_ will +turn out to be a _woman_. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +FALLEN AMONG FRIENDS. + +If, before losing consciousness, Hamersley had a thought that he had +fallen into the hands of enemies, never in all his life could he have +been more mistaken, for those now around him, by their words and +gestures, prove the very reverse. Six personages compose the group-- +four men and a girl; the sixth, she, the huntress, who has conducted him +to the house. The girl is a brown-skinned Indian, evidently a domestic; +and so also two of the four men. The other two are white, and of +pronouncedly Spanish features. One is an oldish man, greyheaded, +thin-faced, and wearing spectacles. In a great city he would be taken +for a _savant_, though difficult to tell what he may be, seen in the +Llano Estacado surrounded by a desert. In the same place, the other and +younger man is equally an enigma, for his bearing proclaims him both +gentleman and soldier, while the coat on his back shows the undress +uniform of an officer of more than medium rank. + +It is he who answers to the apostrophe, "Hermano!" springing forward at +the word, and obeying the command of his sister--for such is she whom +Hamersley has accompanied to the spot. + +Throwing out his arms, and receiving the wounded man as he falls +insensible from the saddle, the obedient brother for a moment stands +aghast, for in the face of him unconscious he recognises an old friend-- +one he might no more expect to see there than to behold him falling from +the sky. + +He can have no explanation from the man held in his arms. The latter +has fainted--is dying--perhaps already dead. He does not seek it, only +turns to him who wears the spectacles, saying,-- + +"Doctor, is he, indeed, dead? See if it be so. Let everything be done +to save him." + +He thus addressed takes hold of Hamersley's pulse, and, after a moment +or two, pronounces upon it. It beats; it indicates extreme weakness, +but not absolute danger of death. + +Then the wounded man is carried inside--tenderly borne, as if he, too, +were a brother--laid upon a couch, and looked after with all the skill +the grey-haired _medico_ can command, with all the assiduity of her who +has brought him to the house, and him she calls "Hermano." + +As soon as the stranger has been disposed of, between these two there is +a dialogue--the brother seeking explanations from the sister, though +first imparting information to her. He knows the man she has saved; +telling her how and where their acquaintance was made. Few words +suffice, for already is the story known to her. In return, she too +gives relation of what has happened--how, after her chase upon the +plain, coming back successful, she saw the zopilotes, and was by them +attracted out of her way; narrating all the rest already told. + +And now nothing more can be known. The man still lives--thank Heaven +for that!--but lies on the couch unconscious of all around him. Not +quiet, for he is turning about, with quick-beating pulse, and brain in a +condition of delirium. + +For a night and a part of a day they keep by his bedside--all three, +sister, brother, and doctor, grouped there, or going and coming. They +know who the wounded man is, though ignorant of how he came by his +wounds, or what strange chance left him stranded on the Staked Plain. + +They have no hope of knowing until he may regain consciousness and +recover. And of this the doctor has some doubt; when asked, shaking his +head ominously, till the spectacles get loosened upon his nose. + +But, though the prognosis remain uncertain, the diagnosis is learnt in a +manner unexpected. Before noon of the next day the hounds are heard +baying outside; and the watchers by the sick-bed, summoned forth, see +one approaching--a personage whose appearance causes them surprise. Any +one seen there would do the same, since for months no stranger had come +near them. Strange, indeed, if one had, for they are more than a +hundred miles from any civilised settlement, in the very heart and +centre of a desert. + +What they see now is a man of colossal form and gigantic stature, with +bearded face and formidable aspect, rendered somewhat grotesque by a +deer's carcase carried over his shoulders, the shanks of the animal +rising crossways over his crown. + +They are not dismayed by the uncouth apparition. She who has brought +Hamersley to the house guesses it to be the comrade of whom he spoke-- +describing him as "true and faithful." + +And, without reflecting further, she glides out, grasps the great hunter +by the hand, and conducts him to the bedside of his unconscious +companion. + +Looking at her as she leads him, Walt Wilder mutters to himself,-- + +"Saved by a _angel_! I knowed it would turn out a _woman_, and this is +one for sartin." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +THE LONE RANCHE. + +A singular habitation was that into which Frank Hamersley, and after him +Walt Wilder, had found their way. Architecturally of the rudest +description--a kind among Mexicans especially styled _jacal_, or more +generally _rancho_, the latter designation Anglicised or Americanised +into ranche. The _rancho_, when of limited dimensions, is termed +_ranchito_, and may be seen with walls of different materials, according +to the district or country. In the hot low lands (_tierras calientes_) +it is usually built of bamboos, with a thatching of palm-leaf; higher +up, on the table lands (_tierras templadas_) it is a structure of mud +bricks unburnt (adobe's); while still higher, upon the slopes of the +forest-clad sierras, it assumes the orthodox shape of a log cabin, +though in many respects differing from that of the States. + +The one which gave shelter to the fugitives differed from all these, +having walls of split slabs, set stockade fashion, and thatched with a +sedge of _tule_, taken from a little lake that lay near. It had three +rooms and a kitchen, with some sheds at the back--one a stable +appropriated to the mustang mare, another to some mules, and a third +occupied by two men of the class of "peons"--the male domestics of the +establishment. + +All, with the house itself, structures of the rudest kind, unlike as +possible to the dwelling-place of a lady, to say nought of an _angel_. + +This thought occurs to Wilder as he enters under its roof. But he has +no time to dwell upon it. His wounded comrade is inside, to whom he is +conducted. He finds the latter still alive--thank God for that!--but +unconscious of all that is passing around. To the kindly words spoken +in apostrophe he makes no reply, or only in speeches incoherent. His +skin is hot, his lips parched, his pulse throbbing at ninety to the +minute. He is in the throes of a raging fever, which affects his brain +as his blood. + +The stalwart hunter sits down by his side, and stays there, tenderly +nursing him. It glads him to observe there are others solicitous as +himself--to find that he and Hamersley have fallen among friends. +Though also surprising him, as does the sort of people he sees around. +First, there is a lady, easily recognised as the _angel_; then a man of +military aspect, who addresses her as "Hermanita," unquestionably a +gentleman with a second and older man wearing spectacles, by both spoken +of as "el medico." Strange inhabitants for a hovel, as that this should +be in such an odd situation--hundreds of miles beyond the borders of +civilisation, as Walt well knows. + +No wonder at his wondering, above all when he discovers that his comrade +is already known to them--to the younger of the two men, who is their +host. This, however, is soon explained. Walt was already aware that +the young prairie trader had made a former trip to New Mexico, when and +where, as he is now told, the acquaintance commenced, along with some +other particulars, to satisfy him for the time. + +In return for this confidence he gives a detailed account of the caravan +and its mischances--of the great final misfortune, which explains to +them why its owner and himself had been forced to take to the Staked +Plain, and were there wandering about, helpless fugitives. + +To his narrative all three eagerly listen. But when he enlarges on the +bravery of his young comrade, lying unconscious beside them, one bends +upon the latter eyes that express an interest amounting to admiration. +It is the "angel." + +In the days that succeed she becomes Walt's fellow-watcher by the +bedside of the sufferer; and often again does he observe similar glances +given to their common patient. Rough backwoodsman though he be, he can +tell them to be looks of love. + +He thinks less about them because he has himself found something of like +kind stealing over his thoughts. All his cares are not given to his +invalided comrade; for in the hut is a fourth individual, whose habitual +place is the _cocina_, coming and going, as occasion calls. + +A little brown-skinned beauty, half Spanish, half Pueblo Indian, whose +black eyes have burnt a hole through his buckskin hunting-shirt, and set +fire to his heart. Though but little more than half his height, in less +than a week after making her acquaintance she has become his master, as +much as if their stature were reversed. + +Walt does not want her for his mistress. No; the hunter is too noble, +too honourable, for that His glance following her as she flits about the +room, taking in her dainty shape, and the expression of her pretty face, +always wreathed in smiles, he has but one single-hearted desire, to +which he gives muttered expression, saying,-- + +"Thet's jest the kind o' gurl a fellow ked freeze to. I ne'er seed a +apple dumplin' as looked sweeter or more temptin'; an' if she's +agreeable, we two air born to be bone o' one bone, and flesh o' one +flesh!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. + +A SWEET AWAKENING. + +For many days the young Kentuckian remains unconscious of all that is +passing around. Fortunately for him, he has fallen into the right +hands; for the old gentleman in spectacles is in reality a medical man-- +a skilled surgeon as well as a physician, and devotes all his time and +skill to restoring his patient to health. + +Soon the wound shows signs of healing, and, along with it, the fever +begins gradually to abate. The brain at length relieved, reason resumes +its sway. + +Hamersley becomes conscious that he still lives, on hearing voices. +They are of men. Two are engaged in a dialogue, which appears to be +carried on with some difficulty, as one is speaking English, which the +other but slightly understands. Neither is the English of the first +speaker of a very correct kind, nor is his voice at all euphonious. For +all that, it sounds in Hamersley's ears sweet as the most seraphic +music, since in its tones he recognises the voice of Walt Wilder. + +A joyous throb thrills through his heart on discovering that his comrade +has rejoined him. After their parting upon the plain he had his fears +they might never come together again. + +Walt is not within sight, for the conversation is carried on outside the +room. The invalid sees that he is in a room, a small one, of which the +walls are wood, roughly-hewn slabs, with furniture fashioned in a style +corresponding. He is lying upon a _catre_, or camp bedstead, rendered +soft by a mattress of bearskins, while a _serape_ of bright-coloured +pattern is spread over him, serving both for blanket and counterpane. +In the apartment is a table of the rudest construction, with two or +three chairs, evidently from the hand of the same unskilful workman, +their seats being simply hides with the hair on. On the table is a cup +with a spoon in it, and two or three small bottles, that have the look +of containing medicines. + +All these objects come under his eyes at the first dim glance; but as +his vision grows clearer, and he feels strength enough to raise his head +from the pillow, other articles are disclosed to view, in strange +contrast with the chattels first observed. Against the wall hang +several articles of female apparel--all of a costly kind. They are of +silk and silk-velvet, richly brocaded; while on a second table, slab +like the first, he can distinguish bijouterie, with other trifles +usually belonging to a lady's toilet. + +These lie in front of a small mirror set in a frame which appears to be +silver; while above is suspended a guitar, of the kind known as +_bandolon_. + +The sick man sees all these things with a half-bewildered gaze, for his +senses are still far from clear. The costly articles of apparel and +adornment would be appropriate in a lady's boudoir or bed chamber. But +they appear strange, even grotesque, in juxtaposition with the +roughly-hewn timbers of what is evidently a humble cottage--a log cabin! + +Of course he connects them with her, that singular being who has +succoured, and perhaps saved his life. He can have no other conjecture. +He remembers seeing a house as they approached its outside. It must be +that he is now in; though, from the last conscious thought, as he felt +himself swooning in the saddle, all has been as blank as if he had been +lying lifeless in a tomb. Even yet it might appear as a dream but for +the voice of Walt Wilder, who, outside, seems labouring hard to make +himself intelligible to some personage with whom he is conversing. + +Hamersley is about to utter a cry that will summon his comrade to his +side, when he perceives that the voices are becoming fainter, as if the +two speakers had gone outside the house and were walking away from it. +Feeling too weak even for the slightest exertion, he remains silent, +taking it for granted they will soon return. + +It is broad daylight, the sun glancing in through an aperture in the +wall that serves for a window. It has neither frame nor glass, and +along with the bright beams there drifts in a cool breeze laden with the +delicious fragrance of flowers, among which he can distinguish the +aromatic perfume of the wild China tree. There are voices of birds +mingling their music with the sough of falling water--sounds very +different from those of the desert through which he has of late been +straying. + +He lies thinking of the beautiful being who brought him thither, shaping +conjectures in regard to the strangeness of the situation. He has no +idea how long he may have been unconscious; nor has the whole time been +like death--unless death have its dreams. For he has had dreams, all +with a fair form and lovely face flitting and figuring in them. It is +the wild huntress. + +He has a fancy that the face seemed familiar to him; or, if not +familiar, one he has looked upon before. He endeavours to recall all +those he had met in Mexico during his sojourn there; for if encountered +anywhere, it must have been there. His female acquaintances had been +but few in that foreign land. He can remember every one of them. She +is not of their number. If he has ever seen her before their encounter +on the Staked Plain, it must have been while passing along the street of +some Mexican city. + +And this could scarcely be, in his silent reflection; for such a woman +once seen--even but for a moment--could never be forgotten. + +He lies pondering on all that has passed--on all he can now recall. +Walt had got back, then, to the place where they parted. He must have +found food and water, though it matters now no more. Enough that he has +got back, and both are in an asylum of safety, under friendly +protection. This is evident from the surroundings. + +Still feeble as a child, the effort of thought very soon fatigues him; +and this, with the narcotic influence of the flower perfume, the songs +of the birds, and the soothing monotone of the waters, produces a +drowsiness that terminates in a profound slumber. This time he sleeps +without dreaming. + +How long he cannot tell; but once more he is awakened by voices. As +before, two persons are engaged in conversation. But far different from +those already heard. The bird-music still swelling in through the +window is less sweet than the tones that now salute his ear. + +As before, the speakers are invisible, outside the room. But he can +perceive that they are close to the door, and the first words heard +admonish him of their design to enter. + +"Now, Conchita! Go get the wine, and bring it along with you. The +doctor left directions for it to be given him at this hour." + +"I have it here, senorita." + +"_Vaya_! you have forgotten the glass. You would not have him drink out +of the bottle?" + +"_Ay Dios_! and so I have," responds Conchita, apparently gliding off to +possess herself of the required article, with which she soon returns. + +"Ish!" cautions the other voice; "if he be still asleep, we must not +wake him. Don Prospero said that. Step lightly, _muchacha_!" + +Hamersley is awake, with eyes wide open, and consciousness quite +restored. But at this moment something--an instinct of dissembling-- +causes him to counterfeit sleep; and he lies still, with shut eyelids. +He can hear the door turning upon its hinges of raw hide, then the soft +rustle of robes, while he is sensible of that inexpressible something +that denotes the gentle presence of woman. + +"Yes, he is asleep," says the first speaker, "and for the world we may +not disturb him. The doctor was particular about that, and we must do +exactly as he said. You know, Conchita, this gentleman has been in +great danger. Thanks to the good Virgin, he'll get over it. Don +Prospero assures us he will." + +"What a pity if he should not! Oh, senorita, isn't he--" + +"Isn't he what?" + +"Handsome--beautiful! He looks like a picture I've seen in the church; +an angel--only that the angel had wings, and no mustachios." + +"Pif, girl; don't speak in that silly way, or I shall be angry with you. +_Vayate_! you may take away the wine. We can come again when he +awakes. _Guardate_! Tread lightly." + +Again there is the rustling of a dress; but this time as if only one of +the two were moving off. The other seems still to linger by the side of +the couch. + +The invalid queries which of the two it is. There is an electricity +that tells him; and, for an instant, he thinks of opening his eyes, and +proclaiming consciousness of what has been passing. + +A thought restrains him--delicacy. The lady will know that he has been +awake all the while, and overheard the conversation. It has been in +Spanish, but she is aware that he understands this, for he has no doubt +that the "senorita" is she who has saved him. + +He remains without moving, without unclosing his eyelids. But his ears +are open, and he hears a speech pleasanter than any yet spoken. + +It is in the shape of a soliloquy--a few words softly murmured. They +are, "_Ay de mil_ 'Tis true what Conchita says, and as Valerian told me. +_He is, indeed, handsome--beautiful_!" + +More than ever Hamersley endeavours to counterfeit sleep, but he can +resist no longer. Involuntarily his eyes fly open, and, with head +upraised, he turns towards the speaker. + +He sees what he has been expecting, what he beheld in fancy throughout +his long, delirious dream--the fair form and beautiful face that so much +interested him, even in that hour when life seemed to be forsaking him. +It is the angel of the desert, no longer in huntress garb, but dressed +as a lady. + +There is a red tinge upon her cheek, that appears to have flushed up +suddenly, as if suspecting her soliloquy has been heard. The words have +but parted from her lips, and the thought is yet thrilling in her heart. + +Can he have heard it? He shows no sign. + +She approaches the couch with a look of solicitude, mingled with +interrogation. A hand is held out to her, and a word or two spoken to +say she is recognised. Her eyes sparkle with joy, as she perceives in +those of the invalid that reason is once more seated on its throne. + +"I am so happy," she murmurs, "we are all so happy, to know you are out +of danger. Don Prospero says so. You will now get well in a short +time. But I forget; we were to give you something as soon as you should +awake. It is only some wine. Conchita, come hither!" + +A young girl is seen stepping into the chamber. A glance would tell her +to be the maid, if the overheard conversation had not already declared +it. A little brown-skinned damsel, scarce five feet in height, with +raven hair hanging in double plait down her back, and black eyes that +sparkle like those of a basilisk. + +Provident Conchila has brought the bottle and glass with her, and a +portion of the famed grape juice of El Paso is administered to the +invalid. + +"How good and kind you've all been!" he says, as his head once more +settles down upon the pillow. "And you especially, senorita. If I +mistake not, I'm indebted to you for the saving of my life." + +"Do not speak of that," she rejoins; "I've shown you no kindness in +particular. You would not have one leave a fellow creature to perish?" + +"Ah! but for you I should now have been in another world." + +"No, indeed. There you are mistaken. If I had never come near you, +you'd have been saved all the same. I have good news for you. Your +comrade is safe, and here. He returned to your trysting-place, with +both food and drink; so, as you see, I have no merit in having rescued +you. But I must not talk longer. Don Prospero has given instructions +for you to be kept quiet. I shall bring the doctor at once. Now that +you are awake it is necessary he should see you." + +Without waiting for a reply, she glides out of the room, Conchita having +gone before. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. + +DON VALERIAN. + +Hamersley lies pondering on what he has seen and heard, more especially +on what he has overheard--that sweet soliloquy. Few men are insensible +to flattery. And flattery from fair lips! He must be indeed near death +whose heart-pulsations it does not affect. + +But Don Prospero! Who is he? Is he the owner of the voice heard in +dialogue with Walt Wilder? May he be the owner of all? This thought +troubles the Kentuckian. + +Approaching footsteps put a stop to his conjectures. There are voices +outside, one of them the same late sounding so sweetly in his ears. The +other is a man's, but not his who was conversing with Wilder. Nor is it +that of the ex-Ranger himself. It is Don Prospero, who soon after +enters the room, the lady leading the way. + +A man of nigh sixty years of age, spare form and face, hair grizzled, +cheeks wrinkled; withal hale and hearty, as can be told by the pleasant +sparkle of his eye. Dressed in a semi-military suit, of a subdued tint, +and facings that tell of the medical staff. + +At a glance there is no danger in Don Prospero. The invalid feels +easier, and breathes freely. + +"Glad to see you looking so well," says Don Prospero, taking hold of his +patient's wrist and trying the pulse. "Ah! much more regular; it will +be all right now. Keep quiet, and we shall soon get you on your feet +again. Come, senor! A little more of this grape-juice will do you no +harm. Nothing like our New Mexican wine for bringing back a sick man to +his appetite. After that, we shall give you some wild-turkey broth and +a bone to pick. In a day or two you'll be able to eat anything." + +Other personages are now approaching the chamber. The lady glides out, +calling,-- + +"Valerian!" + +"Who is Valerian?" feebly interrogates the invalid. Once more the name +of a man is making him unhappy. + +"Don Valerian!" responds the doctor, in a tone that tells of respect for +the individual so designated; "you shall see, senor. You are about to +make his acquaintance. No; I am wrong about that. I forgot. You +cannot now." + +"Cannot! Why?" + +"Because you have made it already. _Mira_! He is there!" + +This as a tall, elegant man, under thirty years of age, steps inside the +chamber, while a still taller form appears in the doorway, almost +filling up the space between the posts. + +The latter is Walt Wilder, but the former--who is he? Don Valerian, of +course! + +"Colonel Miranda!" exclaims Hamersley, starting up on his couch. He has +already dismissed all suspicious fears of Don Prospero; and now he no +longer dreads Valerian. + +"Colonel Miranda, is it you?" + +"It is, _mio amigo_, myself, as you see. And I need not tell you how +glad I am to meet you again. So unexpected in this queer quarter, where +I little hoped to have the pleasure of entertaining an old friend. Our +worthy doctor here informs us you will soon get strong again, and become +more of a tax on my hospitality than you have yet been. No doubt, after +your illness, you'll have the appetite of an ostrich. Well, in one way, +that will be fortunate, since we are living, as you may see, in a +somewhat Homeric fashion. _Carrambo_! you will be deeming my manners +quite as rude as the roughest of Homer's heroes. I am forgetting to +introduce you to one of whom you've heard me speak. Though it don't so +much signify, since the lady has made your acquaintance already. Permit +me to present my dear Adela." + +It is the beautiful huntress who steps forward to be introduced, now +looking more beautiful than ever. + +To Hamersley all is explained by her presence. He remembers the +portrait upon the wall, which accounts for his fancy of having seen her +face before. + +He sees it now; his wonder giving way to an intense, ardent admiration. + +Soon, the young lady retiring, his curiosity comes back, and he asks his +host for an explanation. How came Colonel Miranda there, and why? By +what sinister combination of circumstances has the military commandant +of Albuquerque made his home in the midst of a howling wilderness, for +such is the Llano Estacado? + +Despite the smiling oasis immediately surrounding it, it cannot have +been choice. No. Chance, or rather mischance, must have led to this +change in the affairs of his New Mexican acquaintance. More than an +acquaintance--a friend who stood by him in the hour of danger, first +courageously protecting, then nobly volunteering to act as his second in +a duel; afterwards taking him on to his home and showing him +hospitality, kind as was ever extended to a stranger in a strange land. + +No wonder Frank Hamersley holds him dear. Dearer now, after seeing his +sister _in propria persona_--she whose portrait had so much impressed +his fancy--the impression now deepened by the thought that to her he has +been indebted for his life. + +Naturally enough, the young Kentuckian is desirous of knowing all, and +is anxious about the fortunes of his Mexican friend, that for the time +seem adverse. + +"No," is Colonel Miranda's response to his appeal. "Not now, Senor Don +Francisco. Our good doctor here places an embargo on any further +conversation for the present. The tale I have to tell might too much +excite you. Therefore let it rest untold till you are stronger and more +able to hear it rehearsed. Now, _amigo_, we must leave you alone, or +rather, I should say, in the best of good company, for such has your +worthy comrade, the Senor Wilder, proved himself to be. No doubt you'll +be anxious to have a word with one who, while your life was in danger, +would have sacrificed his own to save it. Don Prospero permits him to +remain with you and give such explanations as you may need. The rest of +us are to retire. _Hasta luega_." So saying, Miranda steps out of the +room. "Keep perfectly quiet," adds the ex-army surgeon, preparing to +follow. "Don't excite yourself by any act or thought that may cause a +return of the fever. For in that lies your greatest danger. Feel +confident, _caballero_, that you're in the company of friends. Don +Gaulterio here will be able to convince you of that. Ah! senor, you've +a nurse who feels a great interest in seeing you restored to health." + +Pronouncing these last words in undertone and with an accent of +innuendo, accompanied by a smile which the invalid pleasantly +interprets, Don Prospero also retires, leaving his patient alone with +his old caravan guide. + +Drawing one of the chairs up to the side of the bed, the ex-Ranger sits +down upon it, saying,-- + +"Wal, Frank, ain't it wonderful? That we shed both be hyar, neested +snug an' comfortable as two doons in the heart of a hollow tree, arter +all the dangersome scrapes we've been passin' through. Gheehorum! To +think o' thar bein' sech a sweet furtile place lyin' plum centre in the +innermost recesses o' the Staked Plain, whar we purairey men allers +believed thar wun't nothin' 'ceptin' dry desert an' stinkin' sage-bush. +Instead, hyar's a sort o' puradise aroun' us, sech as I used read o' +when I war a youngster in the big Book. Thar's the difference, that in +the Gardin o' Eeden thar's but one woman spoken of; hyar thar's two, one +o' which you yurself hev called a angel, an' ye hain't sayed anythin' +beyont the downright truth. She air a angel, if iver thar was sech on +airth. Now, not detractin' anythin' from her merits, thar's another +near hand--somewhat of a smaller sort, though jest as much, an' a little +bit more, to my likin'. Ye won't mind my declarin' things that way. As +they say in Mexican Spanish, _cadder uner a soo gooster_ (cada una a su +gusto), every one to his own way o' thinkin', so my belief air that in +this. Gardin o' Eeden thar air two Eves, one o' which, not countin' to +be the mother o' all men, will yit, supposin' this chile to hev his way, +be the mother o' a large family o' young Wilders." + +While Hamersley is still smiling at the grotesque prognostication, the +ex-Ranger, seizing hold of his hand, continues,-- + +"I'm so glad you're a goin' to rekiver. Leavin' out the angels we love, +ther'll be some chance to git square wi' the devils we've sech reezun to +hate. We may yit make them pay dear for the bloody deed they've done in +the murderin' o' our innercent companyuns." + +"Amen to that," mutters Hamersley, returning the squeeze of his +comrade's hand with like determined pressure. "Sure as I live, it shall +be so." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY. + +THE RAIDERS RETURNING. + +An Indian bivouac. It is upon a creek called "Pecan," a confluent of +the Little Witchita river, which heads about a hundred miles from the +eastern edge of the Llano Estacado. + +There are no tents in the encampment; only here and there a blanket or +buffalo robe extended horizontally upon upright poles--branches cut from +the surrounding trees. The umbrageous canopy of the pecans protects the +encamped warriors from the fervid rays of a noonday sun, striking +vertically down. + +That they are on the maraud is evidenced by the absence of tents. A +peaceful party, in its ordinary nomadic passage across the prairies, +would have lodges along with it--grand conical structures of painted +buffalo skins--with squaws to set them up, and dogs or ponies to +transport them when struck for another move. + +In this encampment on the Pecan are neither squaws, dogs, nor ponies; +only men, naked to the breech clout, their bodies brightly painted from +hip to head, chequered like a hatchment, or the jacket of a stage +harlequin, with its fantastic devices, some ludicrous, others grotesque; +still others of aspect terrible--showing a death's-head and cross-bones. + +A prairie man on seeing them would at once say, "Indians on the war +trail!" + +It does not need prairie experience to tell they are returning upon it. +If there are no ponies or dogs beside them, there are other animals in +abundance--horses, mules, and horned cattle. Horses and mules of +American breed, and cattle whose ancestral stock has come from Tennessee +or Kentucky along with the early colonists of Texas. + +And though there are no squaws or papooses in the encampment, there are +women and children that are white. A group comprising both can be seen +near its centre. It does not need the dishevelled hair and torn dresses +to show they are captives; nor yet the half-dozen savages, spear-armed, +keeping guard over them. Their drooping heads, woeful and wan +countenances, are too sure signs of their melancholy situation. + +What are these captives, and who their captors? Two questions easily +answered. In a general way, the picture explains itself. The captives +are the wives and children, with sisters and grown-up daughters among +them, of Texan colonists. They are from a settlement too near the +frontier to secure itself against Indian attack. The captors are a +party of Comanches, with whom the reader has already made acquaintance; +for they are no other than the sub-tribe of Tenawas, of whom the Horned +Lizard is leader. + +The time is two weeks subsequent to the attack on Hamersley's train; +and, judging by the spectacle now presented, we may conclude that the +Tenawa chief has not spent the interval in idleness. Nearly three +hundred miles lie between the place where the caravan was destroyed and +the site of the plundered settlement, whose spoils are now seen in the +possession of the savages. + +Such quick work requires explanation. It is at variance with the +customs and inclinations of the prairie freebooter, who, having acquired +a booty, rarely strikes for another till the proceeds of the first be +squandered. He resembles the anaconda, which, having gorged itself, +lies torpid till the craving of a fresh appetite stirs it to renewed +activity. + +Thus would it have been with the Tenawa chief and his band, but for a +circumstance of a somewhat unusual kind. As is known, the attack on the +prairie traders was not so much an affair of the Horned Lizard as his +confederate, the military commandant of Albuquerque. The summons had +come to him unexpected, and after he had planned his descent on the +Texas settlement. Sanguinary as the first affair was, it had been +short, leaving him time to carry out his original design, almost equally +tragical in its execution. Here and there, a spear standing up, with a +tuft of light-coloured hair, blood-clotted upon its blade, is proof of +this. Quite as successful, too. The large drove of horses and horned +cattle, to say nothing of that crowd of despairing captives, proves the +proceeds of the later maraud worth as much, or perhaps more, than what +had been taken from the traders' waggons. + +Horned Lizard is jubilant; so, also, every warrior of his band. In loss +their late foray has cost them comparatively little--only one or two of +their number, killed by the settlers while defending themselves. It +makes up for the severe chastisement sustained in their onslaught upon +the caravan. And, since the number of their tribe is reduced, there are +now the fewer to share with, so that the calicoes of Lowell, the gaudy +prints of Manchester, with stripes, shroudings, and scarlet cloth to +bedeck their bodies, hand mirrors in which to admire themselves, horses +to ride upon, mules to carry their tents, and cattle to eat--with white +women to be their concubines, and white children their attendants--all +these fine things in full possession have put the savages in high +spirits--almost maddened them with delight. + +A new era has dawned upon the tribe of which Horned Lizard is head. +Hitherto it has been a somewhat starving community, its range lying amid +sterile tracts, on the upper tributaries of the Red River and Canadian. +Now, before it is a plentiful future--a time of feasting and revelry, +such as rarely occurs to a robber band, whether amidst the forest-clad +mountains of Italy, or on the treeless steppes of America. + +The Tenawa chief is both joyous and triumphant. So, too, his second in +command, whose skin, with the paint cleansed from it, would show nearly +white. For he is a Mexican by birth; when a boy made prisoner by the +Comanches, and long since matriculated into the mysteries of the +redman's life--its cunning, as its cruelties. + +Now a man, he is one of the chiefs of the tribe, in authority only less +than the Horned Lizard himself, but equal to the latter in all the cruel +instincts that distinguish the savage. "El Barbato" he is called, from +having a beard, though this he keeps clean shaven, the better to +assimilate himself to his beardless companions; while, with painted face +and hair black as their own, he looks as Indian as any of them. But he +has not forgotten his native tongue, and this makes him useful to those +who have adopted him, especially when raiding in the Republic of Mexico. +It was through him the Tenawa chief was first brought to communicate +with the military robber, Uraga. + +The Indian bivouac is down in the creek bottom in a little valley, on +both sides flanked by precipitous cliffs. Above and below these +approach each other, so near as to leave only a narrow path along the +edge of the stream. + +The savages are resting after a long, rapid march, encumbered with their +spoils and captives. Some have lain down to sleep, their nude bodies +stretched along the sward, resembling bronze statues tumbled from their +pedestals. Others squat around fires, roasting collops from cattle they +have killed, or eating them half raw. + +A few stand or saunter by the side of the captives, upon these casting +covetous glances, as if they only waited for the opportunity to +appropriate them. The women are all young; some of them scarce grown +girls, and some very beautiful. + +A heart-harrowing sight it would be for their fathers, brothers, +husbands and sweethearts, could they but witness it. These may not be +far off. + +Some suspicion of this has carried the Horned Lizard and El Barbato up +to the crest of the cliff. They have been summoned thither by a sign, +which the traveller on the prairies of Texas or the table plains of +Mexico never sees without stopping to scrutinise and shape conjecture +about its cause. Before entering the canon through which runs Pecan +Creek, the Tenawa chief had observed a flock of turkey-buzzards circling +about in the air. Not the one accompanying him and his marauders on +their march, as is the wont of these predatory birds. But another quite +separate gang, seen at a distance behind, apparently above the path +along which he and his freebooters had lately passed. + +As the Comanche well knows, a sign too significant to be treated lightly +or with negligence. And so, too, his second in command. Therefore have +they climbed the cliff to obtain a better view of the birds--those +flying afar--and, if possible, draw a correct conclusion as to the cause +of their being there. + +On reaching the summit they again see them, though so far off as to be +barely visible--black specks against the blue canopy of the sky. Still +near enough to show a large number circling about over some object that +appears stationary. + +This last observation seems satisfactory to the Tenawa chief, who, +turning to his fellow-freebooter, shouts out,-- + +"Nothing to fear. Don't you remember, Barbato, one of our horses gave +out there, and was left? It's over him the zopilotes are swooping. +He's not dead yet; that's why they don't go down." + +"It may be," rejoins the renegade. "Still I don't like the look of it. +Over a dead horse they'd hardly soar so high. True, they keep in one +place. If it were Texans pursuing us they'd be moving onward--coming +nearer and nearer. They're not. It must be, as you say, the horse. I +don't think the people of the settlement we struck would be strong +enough to come after us--at least not so soon. They may in time, after +they've got up a gathering of their Rangers. That isn't likely to be +till we've got safe beyond their reach. They won't gain much by a march +to the Witchita mountains. _Por cierte_! the zopilotes out yonder are +over something; but, as they're not moving on, most likely it's the +horse." + +Again the Horned Lizard gives a grunt, expressing satisfaction; after +which the two scramble back down the cliff, to seek that repose which +fighting and forced marching make necessary to man, be he savage or +civilised. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. + +PURSUERS ON THE PATH. + +Despite common belief, the instinct of the Indian is not always sure, +nor his intellect unerring. An instance of the contrary is afforded by +the behaviour of the Tenawa chief and his subordinate Barbato. + +About the buzzards both have been mistaken. The second flock seen by +them is not hovering over a horse, but above an encampment of horsemen. +Not correctly an encampment, but a halt _en bivouac_--where men have +thrown themselves from their saddles, to snatch a hurried repast, and +take quick consultation about continuing on. + +They are all men, not a woman or child among them, bearded men with +white skins, and wearing the garb of civilisation. This not of the most +fashionable kind or cut, nor are they all in the exact drew of civilised +life. For many of them wear buckskin hunting shirts, fringed leggings, +and moccasins; more a costume peculiar to the savage. Besides these +there are some in blanket-coats of red, green, and blue; all +sweat-stained and dust-tarnished, till the colours nearly correspond. +Others in Kentucky jeans, or copper-coloured homespun. Still others in +sky-blue _cottonade_, product of the hand-mills of Attakapas. Boots, +shoes, and brogans fabricated out of all kinds of leather; even that +from the corrugated skin of the illigator. Hats of every shape, +fashion, size, and material--straw, chip, Panama, wool, felt, silk, and +beaver. + +In one respect they are all nearly alike--in their armour and +accoutrements. All are belted, pouched, and powder-horned. Each +carries a bowie-knife and a revolving pistol--some two--and none are +without a rifle. Besides this uniformity there are other points of +resemblance--extending to a certain number. It is noticeable in their +guns, which are jagers of the US army-brand. Equally apparent is the +caparison of their horses; these carrying cavalry saddles, with peaks +and cantles brass mounted. Among the men to whom these appertain there +is a sort of half-military discipline, indicated by some slight +deference shown to two or three, who appear to act with the authority of +officers. It is, in fact, a troop--or, as by themselves styled, a +"company"--of Texan Rangers. + +About one-half the band belongs to this organisation. The others are +the people of the plundered settlement--the fathers, brothers, and +husbands, whom the Horned Lizard and his red robbers have bereft of +daughters, sisters, and wives. + +They are in pursuit of the despoilers; a chase commenced as soon as they +could collect sufficient force to give it a chance of success. Luckily, +a troop of Rangers, scouting in the neighbourhood, came opportunely +along, just in time to join them. Soldiers and settlers united, they +are now on the trail of the Tenawas, and have only halted to breathe and +water their horses, eat some food themselves, and then on. + +Not strange their hot haste--men whose homes have been made desolate, +their kindred carried into captivity. Each has his own painful +reflections. In that hour, at that very moment, his beloved wife, his +delicate daughter, his fair sister, or sweetheart, may be struggling in +the embrace of a brawny savage. No wonder that to them every hour seems +a day, every minute an hour. + +Though with a different motive, not much less impatient are their +associates in the pursuit--the Rangers. It chances to be a company +especially rabid for defence against the incursions of the Tenawa tribe; +and more than once baffled by these cunning red-skins, they are anxious +to make up for past disappointment. Twice before have they followed the +retreating trail of these same savages, on both occasions returning +foiled and empty-handed. And, now that they are again on it, with surer +signs to guide them, the young men of the corps are mad to come up with +the red marauders, while the elder ones are almost equally excited. +Both resemble hounds in a hunt where the scent is hot--the young dogs +dashing forward without check, the old ones alike eager, but moving with +more circumspection. + +Between them and the settlers there is the same earnestness of purpose, +though stimulated by resentment altogether different. The latter only +think of rescuing their dear ones, while the former are stirred by +soldier pride and the instinctive antagonism which a Texan Ranger feels +for a Tenawa. Many of them have old scores to settle with the Horned +Lizard, and more than one longs to send a bullet through his heart. + +But, despite the general reckless impatience to proceed, there are some +who counsel caution. Chief among those is a man named Cully, a thin +wiry sexagenarian, who looks as if he had been at least half a century +upon the prairies. All over buckskin, fitting tight to his body, +without tag or tail, he is not one of the enrolled Rangers, though +engaged to act as their guide. In this capacity he exercises an +influence over the pursuers almost equalling that of their leader, the +Ranger captain, who, with a group gathered around, is now questioning +the guide as to the next move to be made. + +"They can't be very far off now," replies Cully, in answer to the +captain's interrogatory. "All the signs show they passed this hyar +point a good hour arter sun-up. The dew war off the grass as they druv +over it, else the blades 'ud a been pressed flatter down. Besides, +there's the dead hoss they've left ahint. Ye see some o' 'em's cut out +his tongue an' tuk it along for a tit-bit at thar next campin' place. +Now, as the blood that kim out o' the animal's mouth ain't been long +cruddled up, thet shows to a sartinty they can't be far forrad. I +reck'n I know the adzact spot whar they're squatted." + +"Where?" + +"Peecawn creek. There they'll get good water for thar stock, an' the +shade o' trees to rest unner; the which last they'll take to in this +hottish spell o' sun." + +"If they're upon the Pecan," puts in a third speaker, a tall, lathy +individual, in a green blanket coat, badly faded, "and anywhere near its +mouth, we can't be more than five miles from them. I know this part of +the country well. I passed through it last year along with the Santa Fe +expedition." + +"Only five miles!" exclaims another man, whose dress bespeaks a planter +of respectability, while his woe-begone countenance proclaims him to be +one of the bereaved. "Oh, gentlemen I surely our horses are now rested +enough. Let us ride forward and fall upon them at once!" + +"We'd be durned foolish to do so," responded Cully. "Thet, Mr Wilton, +'ud be jest the way to defeet all our plans an' purpisses. They'd see +us long afore we ked git sight o' them, an' maybe in time to run off all +the stolen hosses an' cattle, but sartinly the keptyves." + +"What's your way, Cully?" interrogates a lieutenant of the Rangers. + +"My way air to wait till the sun go down, then steal torst 'm. Thar +boun' to hev fires, an' thet'll guide us right into thar camp. Ef it's +in the Peecawn bottom, as I'm pretty sure it air, we kin surround 'em +eesy. Thar's bluffs a-both sides, an' we kin divide inter two lots--one +slippin' roun' an' comin' from up the creek, while t'other approaches +'em from below. In thet way we'll make sure o' keepin' 'em from runnin' +off the weemen; beside it'll gie us the more likelier chance to make a +good count o' the redskin sculps." + +"What do you say, boys?" asks the Ranger captain, addressing himself +more especially to the men composing his command. + +"Cully's right," is the response from a majority of voices. + +"Then we must stay here till night. If we go forward now, they may see +us before we get within shooting distance. So you think, Cully, you can +take up the trail at night, supposing it to be a dark one?" + +"Pish!" retorts the old prairie-man, with a disdainful toss of his head. + +"Take up the trail o' a Tenawa Injun? I'd do that in the darkest night +as iver shet down over a prairie. The skunks! I ked smell the place +they'd passed over." + +There is no further discussion. Cully's opinion is all-powerful, and +determines the course to be pursued. The halt intended to be temporary, +is to continue till near sunset, despite expostulations, almost +prayerful appeals, from those who have left desolate homes behind, and +who burn with impatience to ride forward and rescue their captive +kindred. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. + +THE SAVAGES SURPRISED. + +Throughout the afternoon hours both parties remained stationary; the +pursued indulging in a siesta, which days of rough riding and raiding, +with nights of watchfulness, have made necessary; the pursuers, on their +part, wearied as well, but unable to sleep so long as their vengeance +remains unappeased, and such dread danger hangs over the heads of those +near and dear to them. + +Above the bivouacs the black vultures spread their shadowy wings, +soaring and circling, each "gang" over the cohort it has been all day +accompanying. + +Every now and then between the two "gangs" one is seen coming and going, +like so many mutual messengers passing between; for, although the flocks +are far apart, they can see one another, and each is aware, by instinct +clearer than human ken, what the other is after. It is not the first +time for them to follow two such parties travelling across the Texan +prairie. Nor will it be the first for them to unite in the air as the +two troops come into collision on the earth. Often have these birds, +poised in the blue ether, looked down upon red carnage like that now +impending. Their instincts--let us call them so, for the sake of +keeping peace with the naturalists of the closet--then admonish them +what is likely to ensue. For if not reason, they have at least +recollection; and as their eyes rest upon men with dusky skins, and +others dimly white, they know that between such is a terrible +antagonism, oft accruing to their own interest. Many a time has it +given them a meal. Strange if they should not remember it! + +They do. Though tranquilly soaring on high--each bird with outstretched +neck and eye bent, in hungry concupiscence, looks below on the forms +moving or at rest, saying to itself, "Ere long these vermin will furnish +a rich repast." So sure are they of this--the birds of both flocks-- +that, although the sun is nigh setting, instead of betaking themselves +to their roosts, as is their wont, they stay, each by its own pet party. +Those accompanying the pursuers still fly about in the air. They can +tell that these do not intend to remain much longer on that spot. For +they have kindled no fires, nor taken other steps that indicate an +encampment for the night. + +Different with those that soar over the halting-place of the pursued. +As night approaches they draw in their spread wings and settle down to +roost; some upon trees, others on the ledges of rock, still others on +the summits of the cliffs that overhang the camping place of the +Indians. + +The blazing fires, with meat on spits sputtering over them; the arms +abandoned, spears stuck in the ground, with shields suspended; the noise +and revelry around--all proclaim the resolve of the savages to stay +there till morning. + +An intention which, despite their apparent stolidity--in contradiction +to the ideas of the closet naturalist and his theory of animal +instinct--the vultures clearly comprehend. + +About the behaviour of the birds the marauders take no note. They are +used to seeing turkey-buzzards around--better known to them by the name +"zopilotes." + +For long ere the Anglo-American colonists came in contact with the +Comanche Indians a Spano-Mexican vocabulary had penetrated to the +remotest of these tribes. + +No new thing for the Tenawas to see the predatory birds swooping above +them all day and staying near them all night. Not stranger than a wolf +keeping close to the sheepfold, or a hungry dog skulking around +shambles. + +As night draws near, and the purple twilight steals over the great Texan +plain, the party of chasing pursuers is relieved from a stay by all +deemed so irksome. Remounting their horses, they leave the scene of +their reluctant halt, and continue the pursuit silently, as if moving in +funeral march. + +The only sounds heard are the dull thumping of their horses' hoofs upon +the soft prairie turf; now and then a clink, as one strikes against a +stone; the occasional tinkle of a canteen as it comes in contact with +saddle mounting or pistol butt; the champing of bits, with the breathing +of horses and men. + +These last talk in low tones, in mutterings not much louder than +whispers. In pursuit of their savage foe, the well-trained Rangers +habitually proceed thus, and have cautioned the settlers to the same. +Though these need no compulsion to keep silent; their hearts are too +sore for speech; their anguish, in its terrible intensity, seeks for no +expression, till they stand face to face with the red ruffians who have +caused, and are still causing, it. The night darkens down, becoming so +obscure that each horseman can barely distinguish the form of him riding +ahead. Some regret this, thinking they may get strayed. Not so Cully. +On the contrary, the guide is glad, for he feels confident in his +conjecture that the pursued will be found in Pecan Creek, and a dark +night will favour the scheme of attack he has conceived and spoken of. +Counselled by him, the Ranger captain shares his confidence, and they +proceed direct towards the point where the tributary stream unites with +the main river--the little Witchita, along whose banks they have been +all that day tracking. Not but that Cully could take up the Indian +trail. Despite the obscurity he could do that, though not, as he +jestingly declared, by the smell. There are other indices that would +enable him, known but to men who have spent a lifetime upon the +prairies. He does not need them now, sure he will find the savages, as +he said, "squatted on the Peecawn." + +And, sure enough, when the pursuers, at length at the creek's mouth, +enter the canon through which it disembogues its crystal water into the +grander and more turbid stream, they discovered certain traces of the +pursued having passed along its banks. + +Another mile of travelling, the same silence observed, with caution +increased, and there is no longer a doubt about the truth of Cully's +conjecture. Noises are heard ahead, sounds disturbing the stillness of +the night air that are not those of the uninhabited prairie. There is +the lowing of cattle, in long monotonous moans, like when being driven +to slaughter, with, at intervals, the shriller neigh of a horse, as if +uneasy at being away from his stable. + +On hearing these sounds, the Ranger captain, acting by the advice of the +guide, orders a halt. Then the pursuing party is separated into two +distinct troops. One, led by Cully, ascends the cliff by a lateral +ravine, and pursues its way along the upper table-land. The other, +under the command of the captain, is to remain below until a certain +time has elapsed, its length stipulated between the two leaders before +parting. + +When it has passed, the second division moves forward up the creek, +again halting as a light shines through the trees, which, from its +reddish colour, they know to be the glare of log fires. + +They need not this to tell them they are close to an encampment--that of +the savages they have been pursuing. They can hear their barbarous +jargon, mingled with shouts and laughter like that of demons in the +midst of some fiendish frolic. + +They only stay for a signal the guide arranged to give as soon as he has +got round to attack on the opposite side. The first shot heard, and +they will dash forward to the fires. + +Seated in their saddles, with reins tight drawn, and heels ready to +drive home the spur--with glances bent greedily at the gleaming lights, +and ears keenly alert to catch every sound--the hearts of some trembling +with fear, others throbbing with hope, still others thrilling with the +thought of vengeance--they wait for the crack that is to be the signal-- +wait and listen, with difficulty restraining themselves. + +It comes at length. Up the glen peals a loud report, quickly followed +by another, both from a double-barrelled gun. + +This was the signal for attack, arranged by Cully. + +Soon as hearing it, the reins are slackened, the spurs sent home, and, +with a shout making the rocks ring, and the trees reverberate its +echoes, they gallop straight towards the Indian encampment, and in a +moment are in its midst. + +They meet little resistance--scarce any. Too far from the settlements +to fear pursuit--in full confidence they have not been followed, the red +robbers have been abandoning themselves to pleasure, spending the night +in a grand gluttonous feast, furnished by the captured kine. + +Engrossed with sensual joys, they have neglected guard; and, in the +midst of their festivities, they are suddenly set upon from all sides; +the sharp cracking of rifles, with the quick detonation of repeating +pistols, soon silences their cacchinations, scattering them like chaff. + +After the first fusillade, there is but little left of them. Those not +instantly shot down retreat in the darkness, skulking of! among the +pecan trees. It is altogether an affair of firearms: and for once the +bowie--the Texan's trusted weapon--has no part in the fray. + +The first rays of next morning's sun throw light upon a sanguinary +scene--a tableau terrible, though not regrettable. On the contrary, it +discloses a sight which, but for the red surroundings, might give +gladness. Fathers, half frantic with joy, are kissing children they +never expected to see again; brothers clasping the hands of sisters late +deemed lost for ever; husbands, nigh broken-hearted, once more happy, +holding their wives in fond, affectionate embrace. + +Near by, things strangely contrasting--corpses strewn over the ground, +stark and bleeding, but not yet stiff, all of coppery complexion, but +bedaubed with paint of many diverse colours. All surely savages. + +A fearful spectacle, but one too often witnessed on the far frontier +land of Texas. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. + +A FORCED CONFESSION. + +The party of Texans has made what prairie men call a "coup." On +counting the corpses of their slain enemies they find that at least +one-half of the Tenawa warriors have fallen, including their chief. +They can make an approximate estimate of the number that was opposed to +them by the signs visible around the camp, as also upon the trail they +have been for several days following. Those who escaped have got off, +some on their horses, hastily caught and mounted; others afoot, by +taking to the timber. They were not pursued, as it was still dark night +when the action ended, and by daylight these wild centaurs, well +acquainted with the country, will have scattered far and wide, beyond +all likelihood of being again encountered. + +The settlers are satisfied at having recovered their relatives, as also +their stolen stock. As to the Rangers, enough has been accomplished to +slake their revengeful thirst--for the time. These last, however, have +not come off unscathed; for the Comanches, well armed with guns, bows, +and lances, did not die unresistingly. In Texas Indians rarely do, and +never when they engage in a fight with Rangers. Between them and these +border _guerrilleros_--in one sense almost as much savages as +themselves--war is an understood game--to the bitter end, with no +quarter either asked or given. + +The Rangers count three of their number killed and about twice as many +wounded--enough, considering the advantage they had in their unwarned +attack upon enemies who for once proved unwatchful. + +When the conflict has finally come to a close, and daylight makes +manifest the result, the victors take possession of the spoil--most of +it their own property. The horses that strayed or stampeded during the +fight are again collected into a drove--those of the Indians being +united to it. This done, only a short stay is intended--just long +enough to bury the bodies of the three Rangers who have been killed, get +stretchers prepared for such of the wounded as are unable to sit in the +saddle, and make other preparations for return towards the settlements. + +They do not hasten their departure through any apprehension of a +counter-attack on the side of the Comanches. Fifty Texan Rangers--and +there are this number of them--have no fear on any part of the plains, +so long as they are mounted on good horses, carry rifles in their hands, +bowie-knives and pistols in their belts, with a sufficient supply of +powder in their flasks, and bullets in their pouches. With all these +items they are amply provided; and were there now any necessity for +continuing the pursuit, or the prospect of striking another coup, they +would go on, even though the chase should conduct them into the defiles +of the Rocky Mountains. To pursue and slay the savage is their +vocation, their duty, their pastime and pleasure. + +But the settlers are desirous of a speedy return to their homes, that +they may relieve the anxiety of other dear ones, who there await them. +They long to impart the glad tidings they will take with them. + +While the preparations for departure are going on, Cully--who, with +several others, has been collecting the arms and accoutrements of their +slain enemies--gives utterance to a cry that brings a crowd of his +comrades around him. + +"What is it, Nat?" inquires the Ranger captain. + +"Look hyar, cap! D'ye see this gun?" + +"Yes; a hunter's rifle. Whose is it?" + +"That's jess the questyin; though thar ain't no questyin about it. +Boys, do any o' ye recognise this hyar shootin' iron?" + +One after another the Rangers step up, and look at the rifle. + +"I do," says one. + +"And I," adds another. + +And a third, and fourth, make the same affirmation, all speaking in +tones of surprise. + +"Walt Wilder's gun," continues Cully, "sure an' sartin. I know it, an +oughter know it. See them two letters in the stock thar--`WW.' Old Nat +Cully hez good reezun to recconise them, since 'twas hisself that cut +'em. I did it for Walt two yeern ago, when we war scoutin' on the +Collyrado. It's his weepun, an' no mistake." + +"Where did you find it?" inquires the captain. + +"I've jess tuk it out o' the claws o' the ugliest Injun as ever made +trail on a puraira--that beauty thar, whose karkidge the buzzards won't +be likely to tech." + +While speaking Cully points to a corpse. It is that of the Tenawa +chief, already identified among the slain. + +"He must a' hed it in his clutch when suddenly shot down," pursues the +guide. "An' whar did he git it? Boys, our ole kummerade's wiped out +for sartin. I know how Walt loved that thar piece. He w'udn't a parted +wi' it unless along wi' his life." + +This is the conviction of several others acquainted with Wilder. It is +the company of Rangers to which he formerly belonged. + +"Thar's been foul play somewhar," continues Cully. "Walt went back to +the States--to Kaintuck, ef this chile ain't mistook. But 'tain't +likely he stayed thar; he kedn't keep long off o' the purairas. I tell +ye, boys, these hyar Injens hev been makin' mischief somewhar'. Look +thar, look at them leggin's! Thar's no eend o' white sculps on' 'em, +an' fresh tuk, too!" + +The eyes of all turned towards these terrible trophies that in gory +garniture fringe the buck-skin leg-wear of the savages. Cully, with +several others who knew Wilder well, proceed to examine them, in full +expectation of finding among them the skin of their old comrade's head. +There are twelve scalps, all of white men, with others that are Indian, +and not a few that exhibit the equally black, but shorter crop of the +Mexican. Those that are indubitably of white men show signs of having +been recently taken, but none of them can be identified as the scalp of +Walt Wilder. + +There is some relief in this, for his old comrades love. Walt. Still, +there is the damning evidence of the gun, which Cully declares could +only have been taken from him along with his life. How has it got into +the hands of the Horned Lizard? + +"I reckon we can settle that," says the Captain of the Rangers. "The +renegade ought to know something about it." + +This speech refers to Barbato, who has been taken prisoner, and about +whose disposal they have already commenced to deliberate. His beard +betrayed him as a renegade; and, the paint having been partially wiped +from his skin, all perceive that he is a white man--a Mexican. Some are +for shooting him on the spot, others propose hanging, while only a few +of the more humane advocate taking him on to the settlements and there +giving him a trial. He will have to die anyhow--that is pretty sure; +for not only as a Mexican is he their enemy, but now doubly so from +being found in league with their most detested foes, the Tenawa +Comanches. + +The wretch is lying on the ground near by, shaking with fear, in spite +of the fastenings in which he is tightly held. He knows he is in dire +danger, and has only so far escaped through having surrendered to a +settler instead of to one of the Rangers. + +"Let's gie him a chance o' his life; ef he'll tell all about it," +counsels Cully. "What d'ye say, cap?" + +"I agree to that," responds the Ranger captain. "He don't appear to be +worth shooting; though it may be as well to take him on to the +settlements, and shut him up in prison. The promise of pardon may get +out of him all he knows; if not, the other will. He's not an Indian, +and a bit of rope looped round his neck will, no doubt, loosen his +tongue. Suppose we try boys?" + +The "boys" are unanimous in their assent, and the renegade is at once +brought up for examination. The man in the green blanket coat, who, as +a Santa Fe expeditioner, has spent over twelve months in Mexican +prisons, is appointed examiner. He has been long enough among the +"yellerbellies" to have learnt their language. + +The renegade is for a time reticent, and his statements are +contradictory. No wonder he declines to tell what has occurred, so +compromising to himself! But when the _lariat_ is at length noosed +around his neck, the loose end of it thrown over the limb of a pecan +tree--the other conditions being clearly expounded to him--he sees that +things can be no worse; and, seeing this, makes confession--full, if not +free. He discloses everything--the attack and capture of the caravan, +with the slaughter of the white men who accompanied it; he tells of the +retreat of two of them to the cliff, one of whom, by the description, +can be none other than Walt Wilder. When he at length comes to describe +the horrible mode in which their old comrade has perished, the Rangers +are almost frenzied with rage, and it is with difficulty some of them +can be withheld from breaking their given word, and tearing him limb +from limb. + +He makes appeal to them for mercy, stating that he himself had no part +in that transaction; that, although they have found him among the +Indians, he was only as their prisoner; and forced to fight along with +them. + +This is evidently untrue; but, false or true, it has the effect of +pacifying his judges, so far, that the _lariat_ is left loose around his +neck. + +Further examination, and cross-examination, elicit other facts about the +captured caravan--in short, everything, except the secret alliance +between the Mexican officer and the Tenawa chief. Not thinking of +this--in truth, having no suspicion of it--his examiners do not put any +questions about it; and, for himself, the wretch sees no reason to +declare it, but the contrary. He indulges in the hope of one day +returning to the Del Norte, and renewing his relations with Colonel Gil +Uraga. + +"Comrades!" cries the Ranger captain, addressing himself to his men, as +soon as the examination is concluded, "you all of you loved Walt +Wilder--all who knew him?" + +"We did! we did!" is the response feelingly spoken. "So did I. Well, +he's dead, beyond a doubt. It's nearly a month ago, and he could not +last so long, shut up in that cave. His bones will be there, with those +of the other poor fellow, whoever he was, that went in with him. It's +dreadful to think of it! Now, from what this scoundrel says, it can't +be so very far from here. And, as we can make him guide us to the +place, I propose we go there, get the remains of our old comrade, and +give them Christian burial." + +With the Texan Rangers obedience to duty is less a thing of command than +request; and this is a request of such nature as to receive instant and +unanimous assent "Let us go!" is the universal response. "We needn't +all make this journey," continues the captain. "There's no need for any +more than our own boys, the Rangers, and such of the settlers as may +choose to go with us. The rest, who have to look after the women, and +some for driving back the stock, can make their way home at once. I +reckon we've left the track pretty clear of Indians, and they'll be in +no further danger from them." + +Without further discussion, this arrangement is decided upon; and the +two parties commence making the preparations suitable to their +respective plans. + +In less than half an hour after they separate; the settlers, with the +women, children, and cattle, wending their way eastward; while the +Rangers, guided by the renegade, ride off in the opposite direction-- +toward the Llano Estacado. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. + +A PROPOSAL BY PROXY. + +Day by day Hamersley grows stronger, and is able to be abroad. + +Soon after Wilder, plucking him by the sleeve, makes request to have his +company at some distance from the dwelling. + +Hamersley accedes to the request, though not without some surprise. In +the demeanour of his comrade there is an air of mystery. As this is +unusual with the ex-Ranger, he has evidently something of importance to +communicate. + +Not until they have got well out of sight of the house, and beyond the +earshot of anyone inside or around it, does Walt say a word. And then +only after they have come to a stop in the heart of a cotton-wood copse, +where a prostrate trunk offers them the accommodation of a seat. + +Sitting down upon it, and making sign to Hamersley, still with the same +mysterious air, to do likewise, the backwoodsman at length begins to +unburden himself. + +"Frank," says he, "I've brought ye out hyar to hev a little spell o' +talk, on a subjeck as consarns this coon consid'able." + +"What subject, Walt?" + +"Wal, it's about a wumman." + +"A woman! Why, Walt Wilder, I should have supposed that would be the +farthest thing from your thoughts, especially a such a time and in such +a place as this." + +"True it shed, as ye say. For all that, ef this chile don't +misunnerstan' the sign, a wumman ain't the furrest thing from yur +thoughts, at the same time an' place." + +The significance of the observation causes the colour to start to the +cheeks of the young prairie merchant, late so pale. He stammers out an +evasive rejoinder,-- + +"Well, Walt; you wish to have a talk with me. I'm ready to hear what +you have to say. Go on! I'm listening." + +"Wal, Frank, I'm in a sort o' a quandary wi' a critter as wears +pettikotes, an' I want a word o' advice from ye. You're more practised +in thar ways than me. Though a good score o' year older than yurself, I +hain't hed much to do wi' weemen, 'ceptin' Injun squaws an' now an' agin +a yeller gurl down by San Antone. But them scrapes wan't nothin' like +thet Walt Wilder heve got inter now." + +"A scrape! What sort of a scrape? I hope you haven't--" + +"Ye needn't talk o' hope, Frank Hamersley. The thing air past hopin', +an' past prayin' for. Ef this chile know anythin' o' the signs o' love, +he has goed a good ways along its trail. Yis, sir-ee; too fur to think +o' takin' the backtrack." + +"On that trail, indeed?" + +"Thet same; whar Cyubit sots his little feet, 'ithout neer a moccasin on +'em. Yis, kummerade, Walt Wilder, for oncest in in his kureer, air in a +difeequelty; an' thet difeequelty air bein' fool enuf to fall in love-- +the which he hez dun, sure, sartin." + +Hamersley gives a shrug of surprise, accompanied with a slight glance of +indignation. Walt Wilder in love! With whom can it be? As he can +himself think of only one woman worth falling in love with, either in +that solitary spot, or elsewhere on earth, it is but natural his +thoughts should turn to her. + +Only for an instant, however. The idea of having the rough Ranger for a +rival is preposterous. Walt, pursuing the theme, soon convinces him he +has no such lofty aspirations. + +"Beyond a doubt, she's been an' goed an' dud it--that air garl +Concheeter. Them shining eyes o' her'n hev shot clar through this +chile's huntin' shirt, till thar's no peace left inside o' it. I hain't +slep a soun' wink for mor'en a week o' nights; all the time dreemin' o' +the gurl, as ef she war a angel a hoverin' 'bout my head. Now, Frank, +what am I ter do? That's why I've axed ye to kum out hyar, and enter +into this confaberlation." + +"Well, Walt, you shall be welcome to my advice. As to what you should +do, that's clear enough; but what you may or can do will depend a good +deal on what Miss Conchita says. Have you spoken to her upon the +subject?" + +"Thar hain't yit been much talk atween us--i'deed not any, I mout say. +Ye know I can't parley thar lingo. But I've approached her wi' as much +skill as I iver did bear or buffler. An', if signs signerfy anythin', +she ain't bad skeeart about it. Contrarywise, Frank. If I ain't +terribly mistuk, she shows as ef she'd be powerful willin' to hev me." + +"If she be so disposed there can't be much difficulty in the matter. +You mean to marry her, I presume?" + +"In coorse I duz--that for sartin'. The feelin's I hev torst that gurl +air diffrent to them as one hez for Injun squaws, or the queeries I've +danced wi' in the fandangoes o' San Antone. Ef she'll agree to be myen, +I meen nothin' short o' the hon'rable saramony o' marridge--same as +atween man an' wife. What do ye think o't?" + +"I think, Walt, you might do worse than get married. You're old enough +to become a Benedict, and Conchita appears to be just the sort of girl +that would suit you. I've heard it said that these Mexican women make +the best of wives--when married to Americans." + +Hamersley smiles, as though this thought were pleasant to him. + +"There are several things," he continues, "that it will be necessary for +you to arrange before you can bring about the event you're aiming at. +First, you must get the girl's consent: and, I should think, also that +of her master and mistress. They are, as it were, her guardians, and, +to a certain extent, responsible for her being properly bestowed. Last +of all, you'll require the sanction of the Church. This, indeed, may be +your greatest difficulty. To make you and your sweetheart one, a +priest, or Protestant clergyman, will be needed; and neither can be had +very conveniently here, in the centre of the Staked Plain." + +"Durn both sorts!" exclaims the ex-Ranger in a tone of chagrin. "Ef't +warn't for the need o' 'em jest now, I say the Staked Plain air better +'ithout 'em, as wu'd anywars else. Why can't she an' me be tied +thegither 'ithout any sech senseless saramony? Walt Wilder wants no +mumblin' o' prayers at splicin' him to the gurl he's choosed for his +partner. An' why shed thar be, supposin' we both gie our mutooal +promises one to the tother?" + +"True. But that would not be marriage such as would lawfully and +legally make you man and wife." + +"Doggone the lawfulness or legullity o' it! Priest or no priest, I want +Concheteter for my squaw; an' I've made up my mind to hev her. Say, +Frank! Don't ye think the old doc ked do it? He air a sort o' +professional." + +"No, no; the doctor would be of no use in that capacity. It's his +business to unite broken bones, not hands and hearts. But, Walt, if you +are really resolved on the thing, there will, no doubt, be an +opportunity to carry out your intention in a correct and legitimate +manner. You must be patient, however, and wait till you come across +either a priest or a Protestant clergyman." + +"Doggoned ef I care which," is the rejoinder of the giant. "Eyther'll +do; an' one o' 'em 'ud be more nor surficient, ef 't war left ter Walt +Wilder. But, hark'ee, Frank!" he continues, his face assuming an astute +expression, "I'd like to be sure 'bout the thing now--that is, to get +the gurl's way o' thinking on 't. Fact is, I've made up my mind to be +sure, so as thar may be no slips or back kicks." + +"Sure, how?" + +"By procurin' her promise; getting betrothed, as they call it." + +"There can be no harm in that. Certainly not." + +"Wal, I'm gled you think so; for I've sot my traps for the thing, an' +baited 'em too. Thet air's part o' my reezun for askin' ye out hyar. +She's gin me the promise o' a meetin' 'mong these cotton woods, an' may +kum at any minnit. Soon's she does, I'm agoin' to perpose to her; an' I +want to do it in reg'lar, straightforrard way. As I can't palaver +Spanish, an' you kin, I know'd ye wudn't mind transleetin' atween us. +Ye won't, will ye?" + +"I shall do that with the greatest pleasure, if you wish it. But don't +you think, Walt, you might learn what you want to know without any +interpreter? Conchita may not like my interference in an affair of such +a delicate nature. Love's language is said to be universal, and by it +you should understand one another." + +"So fur's thet's consarned, I reck'n we do. But she, bein' a Mexikin, +may hev queery ideas about it; an' I want her promise guv in tarms from +which thar'll be no takin' the back track; same's I meen to give myen." + +"All right, old fellow. I'll see you get such a promise, or none." + +"Thet's satisfactory, Frank. Now, as this chile air agoin' to put the +thing stiff an' strong, do you transleet it in the same sort." + +"Trust me, it shall be done--_verbatim et literatim_." + +"Thet's the way!" joyfully exclaims Walt; thinking that the _verbatim et +literatim_--of the meaning of which he has not the slightest +conception--will be just the thing to clinch his bargain with Conchita. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The singular contract between the prairie merchant and his _ci-devant_ +guide has just reached conclusion as a rustling is heard among the +branches of the cottonwoods, accompanied by a soft footstep. + +Looking around, they see Conchita threading her way through the grove. +Her steps, cautious and stealthy, would tell of an "appointment," even +were this not already known to them. Her whole bearing is that of one +on the way to meet a lover; and the sight of Walt Wilder, who now rises +erect to receive her, proclaims him to be the man. + +It might appear strange that she does not shy back, on seeing him in +company with another man. She neither starts nor shows any shyness; +evidence that the presence of the third party is a thing understood and +pre-arranged. + +She advances without show of timidity; and, curtseying to the "Senor +Francisco," as she styles Hamersley, takes seat upon the log from which +he has arisen; Walt laying hold of her hand and gallantly conducting her +to it. + +There is a short interregnum of silence. This Conchita's sweetheart +endeavours to fill up with a series of gestures that might appear +uncouth but for the solemnity of the occasion. So considered, they may +be deemed graceful, even dignified. + +Perhaps not thinking them so himself, Walt soon seeks relief by turning +to his interpreter, and making appeal to him as follows-- + +"Doggone it, Frank! Ye see I don't know how to talk to her, so you do +the palaverin. Tell her right off, what I want. Say I hain't got much +money, but a pair o' arems strong enuf to purtect her, thro' thick an' +thro' thin, agin the dangers o' the mountain an' the puraira, grizzly +bars, Injuns, an' all. She sees this chile hev got a big body; ye kin +say to her thet his heart ain't no great ways out o' correspondence wi' +his karkidge. Then tell her in the eend, thet his body an' his hands +an' heart--all air offered to her; an' if she'll except 'em they shall +be hern, now, evermore, an' to the death--so help me God!" + +As the hunter completes his proposal thus ludicrously, though +emphatically pronounced, he brings his huge hand down upon his brawny +breast with a slap like the crack of a cricket bat. + +Whatever meaning the girl may make out of his words, she can have had no +doubt about their earnestness or sincerity, judging by the gestures that +accompany them. + +Hamersley can scarce restrain his inclination to laugh; but with an +effort he subdues it, and faithfully, though not very literally, +translates the proposal into Spanish. + +When, as Walt supposes, he has finished, the ex-Ranger rises to his feet +and stands awaiting the answer, his huge frame trembling like the leaf +of an aspen. He continues to shake all the while Conchita's response is +being delivered; though her first words would assure, and set his nerves +at rest, could he but understand them. But he knows not his fate, till +it has passed through the tedious transference from one language to +another--from Spanish to his own native tongue. + +"Tell him," is the response of Conchita, given without sign of +insincerity, "tell him that I love him as much as he can me. That I +loved him from the first moment of our meeting, and shall love him to +the end of my life. In reply to his honourable proposal, say to him +yes. I am willing to become his wife." + +When the answer is translated to Walt, he bounds at least three feet +into the air, with a shout of triumph such as he might give over the +fall of an Indian foe. + +Then, advancing towards the girl, he flings his great arms around her, +lifts her from the ground as if she were a child's doll; presses her to +his broad, throbbing breast, and imprints a kiss upon her lips--the +concussion of which can be heard far beyond the borders of the +cottonwood copse. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. + +A DANGEROUS EAVESDROPPER. + +However successful in his suit with Conchita, Walt Wilder is not without +a rival. Hamersley has reason to suspect this soon after separating +from the lovers, which he does, leaving them to themselves. It has +occurred to him, that the presence of more than two on that spot can be +no longer desirable. His part has been performed, and he withdraws +without saying a word. + +There is a third man, notwithstanding--a spectator--whose breast is +stirred with terrible emotion. + +As the Kentuckian passes out through the copse, he catches sight of a +figure crouching behind the trunk of a tree--apparently that of a man. +Twilight is now on, and beneath the leafy branches reigns an obscurity +almost equalling night. What he sees may be some straying animal, or +perhaps it is only fancy. His thoughts are engrossed with that which +carries him on towards the house. There one will be awaiting him, in +whose refined presence he will soon forget the uncouth spectacle of +courtship at which he has been assisting. + +But the form he has observed cowering under the shadow of the +cotton-woods was no fancy, nor four-footed creature, but a human being, +a man--in short, Manuel the Indian. + +Manuel is mad in love with the little mestiza, who, with Spanish blood +in her veins, is, nevertheless, maternally of his own race--that of the +_Indios mansos_, or "tame Indians," of New Mexico--so called in +contradistinction to the _Indios bravos_, the savages who, from the +conquest till this day, have never submitted themselves to Spanish rule. +Though Christianised, after a fashion, by the Franciscans, with others +of the missionary fathers--living in walled towns, each with its +_capilla_ or church, and cultivating the lands around, many of these +so-called Christian Indians still continue to practice Pagan rites, more +or less openly. In some of their villages, it is said, the _estafa_, or +sacred fire, is kept burning, and has never been permitted to go out +since the time of Montezuma, from whom and his people they believe +themselves descended. They are undoubtedly of Aztec race, and +sun-worshippers, as were the subjects of the unfortunate Emperor of +Tenochtitlas. + +Travellers who have visited their more remote "pueblos" have witnessed +something of this sun-worship, seeing them ascend to the flat roofs of +their singularly constructed houses, and there stand in fixed attitude, +devoutly gazing at the sun as it ascends over the eastern horizon. + +Notwithstanding the epithet "tame," which their Spanish conquerors have +applied to them, they are still more than half wild; and, upon +occasions, the savage instinct shows itself in deeds of cruelty and +blood. + +This very instinct has been kindled in the heart of Manuel. It was not +devotion to Don Valerian Miranda that moved him to follow the fortunes +of his master into exile; his love for Conchita accounts for his +presence there. And he loves her with an ardour and singleness of +passion such as often burns in the breasts of his people. + +The girl has given him no encouragement, rather the reverse. For all +that, he has pursued her with zealous solicitation, regardless of +rebuffs and apparently unconscious of her scorn. + +Hitherto he has had no rival, which has hindered him from despairing. +Conchita is still young, in her earliest teens, having just turned +twelve. But even at this age a New Mexican maiden is deemed old enough +for matrimony; and Manuel, to do justice to him, has eyes upon her with +this honest intent. For months he had made up his mind to have her for +his wife--long before their forced flight into the Llano Estacado. And +now that they are in the desert, with no competitor near--for Chico does +not count as one--he has fancied the time come for the consummation of +his hopes. + +But just when the fair fruit seems ripe for plucking, like the fox in +the fable, he discovers it is beyond his reach. What is worse still, +another, taller than he, and who can reach higher, is likely to gather +it. + +Ever since the arrival of Walt Wilder in the valley he has been watching +the movements of the latter. + +Not without observing that between the great Texan hunter and the little +Mexican _muchacha_ there has sprung up an attachment of a suspicious +nature. + +He has not heard them express it in speech, for in this way they cannot +communicate with one another; but certain looks and gestures exchanged, +unintelligible to others, have been easily interpreted by the Indian as +the signs of a secret and mutual understanding between them. + +They have driven the poor peon well nigh distracted with jealousy--felt +all the keener from its being his first experience of it, all the +angrier from consciousness of his own honest love--while he believes +that of the intruder to have a different intent. + +As the days and hours pass he observes new incidents to sharpen his +suspicions and strengthen his jealous ire. + +In fine, he arrives at the conclusion that Conchita--long loved by him, +long vainly solicited--has surrendered her heart to the gigantic Texan, +who like a sinister shadow, a ghoul, a very ogre, has chanced across the +sunlight of his path. + +Under the circumstances, what is he to do? He is powerful in passion, +but weak in physical strength. Compared with his rival, he is nought. +In a conflict the Texan would crush him, squeeze the breath out of his +body, as a grizzly bear would that of a prairie squirrel or ground +gopher. + +He does not show open antagonism--does not think of it. He knows it +would but end in his ruin--his utter annihilation. + +Still, he is not despairing. + +With the instincts peculiar to his race, he contemplates revenge. All +his idle hours are spent brooding over plans to frustrate the designs of +his rival--in short, to put him out of the way altogether. + +More than once has a thought of poison passed through his mind as the +surest way of effecting his fiendish purpose, as also the safest; and +upon this mode of killing the Texan he has at length determined. + +That very day he has been engaged in making ready for the deed-- +preparing the potion. Certain plants he has found growing in the +valley, well known among his people as poisonous, will furnish him with +the means of death--a slow, lingering death, therefore all the surer to +avert suspicion from the hand that has dealt it. + +To all appearance, Walt Wilder is doomed. He has escaped the spears, +arrows, and tomahawks of the Tenawa savages to fall a victim to a +destroyer, stealthy, subtle, unseen. + +And is the noble Texan--guide, ranger, and hunter--thus sadly to +succumb? No. Fate has not decreed his death by such insidious means. +A circumstance, apparently accidental, steps in to save him. On this +very day, when the poison it being prepared for him, the poisoner +receives a summons that for the time at least, will frustrate his foul +plans. His master commands him to make ready for a journey. It is an +errand similar to that he has been several times sent upon before. He +is to proceed to the settlements on the Rio Grande, where Don Valerian +has friends with whom, in his exile, he keeps up secret correspondence, +Manuel acting as messenger. Thence the trusted peon is to bring back, +as oft before, despatches, news, provisions--the last now more than ever +needed, on account of the stranger guests so unexpectedly thrown upon +his hospitality. + +Manuel is to commence his journey on the following day at the earliest +hour of dawn. There will be no chance for him now to carry out his +nefarious design. It must remain uncompleted till his return. + +While chafing at the disappointment, he sees Conchita stealing out from +the house and entering the cotton-wood grove. He follows her with a +caution equalling her own, but from a far different cause. Crouching on +through the trees, he takes stand behind a trunk, and, concealed by it, +becomes spectator of all that passes. He is at first surprised at +seeing three where he expected only two. Pleased also; for it gives him +hope the girl's errand may not be the keeping of a love appointment. +But as the triangular conference proceeds; above all, when it arrives at +its conclusion, and he sees the Texan raise Conchita in his arms, giving +her that kiss, the echo of which is distinctly audible to him, his blood +boils, and with difficulty does he restrain himself from rushing up to +the spot, and taking the lives of all three, or ending his own if he +fail. + +For a time he stands erect, with his _machete_ drawn from its sheath, +his eyes flashing with the fires of jealous vengeance. Fortunately for +those upon whom they are bent, an instinct of self-preservation stays +him. His hand is ready, but his heart fails him. Terrible as is his +anger, it is yet controlled by fear. He will wait for a more favourable +time and surer opportunity. A safer means, too--this more than aught +else restraining him. While still in intense agitation, he sees +Hamersley depart, leaving the other two to themselves. And now, as +other kisses are exchanged between the lovers, his jealous fury becomes +freshly excited, and for the second time he is half resolved to rush +forward and kill--kill. + +But again his fears gain the ascendency, and his hand refuses to obey +the dictates of his angry heart. With the bare blade held tremblingly, +he continues spectator of that scene which fills his breast with +blackest, bitterest emotion. He has not the courage to interrupt it. +Calculating the chances, he perceives they are against him. Should he +succeed in killing the Texan, with Conchita standing by and bearing +witness to the deed, would be to forfeit his own life. He could find it +in his heart to kill her too; but that would lead to the same result. +Failing in his first blow, the great hunter would have him under his +heel, to be crushed as a crawling reptile. + +Thus cogitating, he sticks to his place of concealment, and overlooks +the love scene to its termination; then permits the lovers to depart in +peace--the woman he so wildly loves, the man he so madly hates. + +After they have gone out of the grove, he advances towards the log upon +which they were seated. Himself taking seat on it, he there ponders +upon a plan of vengeance surer and safer than the assassin's steel. + +It is no longer his intent to employ poison. A new idea has entered his +brain--has been in it ever since receiving notice of the journey on +which he is about to set forth; in truth, suggested by this. A scheme +quite as efficient as poisoning, but also having a purpose far more +comprehensive, for it includes others besides his rival the Ranger. Of +late neglectful of his duties, Colonel Miranda has severely chided him, +thus kindling the hereditary antipathy of his race towards the white +man. + +His master is to be among the victims--in short, all of them, his +fellow-servant, Chico, excepted. Should the diabolical plan prove a +success, not one of them can escape ruin, and most of them may meet +death. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. + +A TALE OF PERIL. + +Thanks to the skill of Don Prospero, exerted with kind assiduity, +Hamersley's wounds are soon healed, his strength completely restored. +Doubtless the tender nursing of the "angel" has something to do with his +rapid recovery, while her presence, cheerful as gentle, does much to +remove the gloom from his spirits, caused by the terrible disaster he +had sustained. Long before reaching convalescence he has ceased to +lament the loss of his property, and only sorrows as he reflects on the +fate of his brave followers, whose lives were sacrificed in the effort +to preserve it. + +Happily, however, as time passes the retrospect of the red carnage loses +something of its sanguinary hue, its too vivid tints becoming gradually +obscured in the oblivion of the past with the singular surroundings of +the present. Amid these his spirit yields itself to pleasanter +reflections. How could it be otherwise? + +Still, with restored strength, his curiosity has been increasing, till +it has reached a point of keenness requiring to be satisfied. He +wonders at all around him, especially the strange circumstance of +finding his old friend and duelling second in such an out-of-the-way +place. As yet, Miranda has only given him a hint, though one pretty +much explaining all. There has been a revolution; and they are +refugees. + +But the young Kentuckian is curious to learn the details, about which, +for some reason, the Mexican has hitherto preserved silence. His +reticence has been due to an injunction of the doctor, who, still under +some anxiety about the recovery of his patient, forbade imparting to him +particulars that might have an injurious effect on his nervous system, +sadly debilitated by the shock it has received. + +Don Prospero is an acute observer. He perceives the growing interest +which Hamersley takes in the sister of his host. He knows the story of +the Chihuahua duel; and thinks that the other story--that of the +disastrous revolution--told in detail, might retard the convalescence of +his patient. Counselled by him, Colonel Miranda has refrained from +communicating it. + +Ignorant of the cause, Hamersley is all the more eager to learn it. +Still, his curiosity does not impel him to importunate inquiry. In the +companionship of such kind friends he can afford to be patient. + +Walt Wilder has no curiosity of any kind. His thoughts have become +centred, his whole soul wrapped up in Conchita. The heart of the +colossal hunter has received a shock such as it never had before; for, +as he declared himself, he is in love for the first time in his life. + +Not but that he has made love before, after a fashion. For he has +shared his tent with more than one Indian squaw, drank and danced with +those nondescript damsels who now and then find their way to the forts +of the fur-traders scattered among the Rocky Mountains and along the +border-land of the prairies. To all this he has confessed. + +But these have been only interludes, "trifling love scrapes." His +present affair with the little mestiza is different. Her sparkling +black eyes pierced deeper and more direct--"straight plum-centre to his +heart," as, in professional jargon, he described it. + +The invalid is at length convalescent; the doctor removes the seal of +injunction placed upon the lips of Colonel Miranda, and the latter +fulfils his promise made to give a narrative of the events which have +led to their residence in that remote and solitary spot. + +The two seated together sipping Paseno wine and smoking cigars, the +Mexican commences his tale. + +"We are refugees, as I've already stated, and came here to save our +heads. At least, there was danger of my losing mine--or, rather, the +certainty of it--had we not succeeded in making our escape from +Albuquerque. The word _pronunciamento_ explains all. A revolt of the +troops under my command, with a name, that of the leader, will give you +a key to the whole affair." + +"Uraga!" exclaims Hamersley, the word coming mechanically from his red +lips; while a cloud passes over his brow, and a red flush flecks the +pallor on his cheeks. "Captain Uraga! 'Twas he?" + +"It was." + +"The scoundrel! I thought so." + +"Not Captain Uraga now, but Colonel; for the reward of his treason +reached him simultaneously with its success, and the traitor is now in +command of the district from which I have been, deposed. Not only that, +but, as I have heard, he has appropriated my house--the same where, +twelve months ago, I had the pleasure of showing you some hospitality. +Contrasting it with our present humble abode, you will see, senor, that +my family affairs have not prospered, any more than my political +fortunes. But to the narration. + +"Not long after you left us I made application to the Government for an +increase to the mounted force at my disposal. This had become necessary +for due protection of the district from our warlike neighbours in the +west--the Navajoes. They had made several raids upon the river +settlements, and carried off goods, cattle, and a number of captives. +The force I had made requisition for was obtained; but not the right +men, or at least the officers I should have chosen to command it. A +troop of light cavalry was sent me--Lancers. You may imagine my +chagrin, not to say disgust, when I saw Captain Gil Uraga at its head. +Marching into the town of Albuquerque, he reported himself for duty. + +"I need not tell you how unpleasant it was for me to have such a fellow +for subordinate. In addition to our Chihuahua duel, there were many +reasons for my having an aversion to him--one, and not the least, that +which I have already hinted to you--his pretensions to be the suitor of +my sister." + +Hamersley writhes as he listens, the red spot on his cheek spreading and +flushing redder. + +Miranda proceeds-- + +"He continued his ill-received attentions whenever chance gave him an +opportunity. It was not often. I took care of that; though, but for +precautions and my authority as his superior officer, his advances +would, no doubt, have been bolder--in short, persecutions. I knew that +to my sister, as to myself, his presence was disagreeable, but there was +no help for it. I could not have him removed. In all matters of +military duty he took care to act so that there should be no pretext for +a charge against him. Besides, I soon found that he was in favour with +one of the Government dignitaries. Though I did not then know why, I +learnt it afterwards; and why he, of all others, had been sent to +Albuquerque. The _sap_ had commenced for a new revolution, and he was +one of its secret fomenters. He had been chosen by the _parti pretre_ +as a fitting agent to act in that district, of which, like myself, he +was a native. + +"Having no suspicion of this, I only thought of him in regard to his +impertinent solicitation of my sister; and against this I could restrain +him. He was polite; obsequiously so, and cautiously guarded in his +gallantries; so that I had no cause for resorting to the _desafio_. I +could only wait and watch. + +"The vigil was not a protracted one; though, alas! it ended differently +from what I expected. About two months after his coming under my +command, the late _grito_ was proclaimed all over Mexico. One morning +as I went down to the military quarters I found confusion and +disturbance. The soldiers were under arms, many of them drunk, and +vociferating `_Viva Santa Anna! Viva el Coronel Uraga_!' Hearing this, +I at once comprehended all. It was a _pronunciamento_. I drew my +sword, thinking to stem the tide of treason; and called around me such +of my followers as were still faithful. It was too late. The poison +had spread throughout the whole command. My adherents were soon +overpowered, several of them killed; myself wounded, dragged to the +_carcel_, and there locked up. The wonder is that I was not executed on +the spot; since I know Gil Uraga thirsted for my life. He was only +restrained, however, by a bit of caution; for, although I was not put to +death on that day, he intended I should never see the sun rise upon +another. In this he was disappointed, and I escaped. + +"I know you will be impatient to learn how," resumes the refugee, after +rolling and igniting a fresh cigarrito. "It is somewhat of an incident, +and might serve the writer of a romance. I owe my life, my liberty, +and, what is more, my sister's safety, to our good friend Don Prospero. +In his capacity of military surgeon he was not compromised like the rest +of us; and after the revolt in the cuartel he was left free to follow +his vocation. While seeking permission to dress the wound I had +received, chance conducted him to a place where he could overhear a +conversation that was being carried on between Uraga and one of his +lieutenants--a ruffian named Roblez, fit associate for his superior. +They were in high glee over what had happened, carousing, and in their +cups not very cautious of what they said. Don Prospero heard enough to +make him acquainted with their scheme, so diabolical you will scarcely +give credence to it. I was to be made away with in the night--carried +up to the mountains, and there murdered! With no traces left, it would +be supposed that I had made my escape from the prison. And the good +doctor heard other designs equally atrocious. What the demons +afterwards intended doing when my sister should be left unprotected--" + +Something like a groan escapes from the listener's lips, while his +fingers move nervously, as if clutching at a weapon. + +"Devoted to me, Don Prospero at once resolved upon a course of action. +There was not a moment to be lost. He obtained permission to attend me +professionally in the prison. It was a cheap grace on Uraga's part, +considering his ulterior design. An attendant, a sort of hospital +assistant, was allowed to accompany the doctor to the cell, carrying his +lints, drugs, and instruments. Fortunately, I had not been quite +stripped by the ruffians who had imprisoned me, and in my own purse, +along with that of Don Prospero, was a considerable sum of gold--enough +for tempting the attendant to change clothes and places with me. He was +the more ready to do so, relying upon a story he intended to tell--that +we had overpowered and compelled him. Poor fellow! As we afterwards +learnt, it did not save him. He was shot the next morning to appease +the chagrin of Uraga, furious at our escape. We cannot help feeling +regret for his fate; but, under the circumstances, what else could have +been done? + +"We stepped forth from the _carcel_, the doctor leading the way, and I, +his assistant, bearing the paraphernalia after him. We passed out of +the barracks unchallenged. Fortunately, the night was a dark one, and +the guards were given to carousing. The sentries were all intoxicated. + +"By stealth, and in silence, we hastened on to my house, where I found +Adela, as you may suppose, in a state of agonised distress. But there +was no time for words--not even of explanation. With two of my servants +whom I could trust, we hastily collected some of our animals--horses and +pack-mules. The latter we loaded with such things as we could think of +as being requisite for a journey. We intended it to be a long one--all +the way across the great prairies. I knew there would be no safety for +us within the limits of New Mexico; and I remembered what you had said +but a few months before--your kind proffer of hospitality, should it +ever be my fate to seek refuge in your country. And to seek it we set +forth, leaving my house untenanted, or only in charge of the remaining +domestics, from whom gold had gained a promise not to betray us. The +doctor, Adela and myself, the two peons who had volunteered to accompany +us, with the girl, Conchita, composed our travelling party. I knew we +dared not take the route usually travelled. We should be followed by +hostile pursuers and forced back, perhaps slain upon the spot. I at +least would have had a short shrift. Knowing this, we made direct for +the mountains, with whose passes I was familiar, having traversed them +in pursuit of the savages. + +"We passed safely through the Sierra, and kept on towards the Rio Pecos. +Beyond this river all was unknown to us. We only knew that there lay +the Llano Estacado, invested with mysterious terrors--the theme of our +childhood's fears--a vast stretch of desert, uninhabited, or only by +savages seeking scalps, by wild beasts ravening for blood, by hideous +reptiles--serpents breathing poison. But what were all these dangers to +that we were leaving behind? Nothing, and this thought inspired us to +proceed. + +"We crossed the Pecos and entered upon the sterile plain. We knew not +how far it extended; only that on the other side lay a fertile country +through which we might penetrate to the frontier settlements of your +great free nation. This was the beacon of our hopes, the goal of +safety. + +"We travelled in an easterly course; but there were days when the sun +was obscured by clouds; and then, unguided, we had either to remain at +rest or run the chance of getting strayed. + +"We toiled on, growing weak for want of food, and suffering terribly +from thirst. No water was to be found anywhere--not a drop. + +"Our animals suffered as ourselves. Staggering under the weight of +their loads, one by one they gave out, dropping down upon the desert +plain. Only one held out bravely to the last--the mustang mare that +brought you to our present abode. Yes, Lolita survived to carry my dear +sister, as if she understood the value we all placed upon her precious +burden. The others gave out--first the horses ridden by Don Prospero +and myself, then the pack-mules. Fortunately, these fell near the spot +where we at length found relief--near enough for their loads, and two of +themselves, to be afterwards recovered. + +"One day, as we toiled on afoot, in the hourly expectation of death, we +came in sight of this fair spot. It appeared to us a Paradise, as you +say it did to yourself. Under our eyes were green trees and the gleam +of crystal streams; in our ears the songs of birds we had never expected +to hear again. Chance had brought us direct to the path, the only one +by which the valley can be reached from the upper plain. Inspirited by +the fair spectacle below, we gained strength enough to descend. We +drank of the sweet water, and procured food from the branches of the +trees that shaded it. It was the season when fruits and berries were +abundant. Afterwards we discovered game, and were successful in +capturing it. + +"Soon with restored strength we were able to go back, and recover the +paraphernalia we had left upon the plain, along with two of the mules +that, after resting, had regained their feet, and could stagger on a +little farther. + +"At first we only thought of making this a temporary resting-place; +though there seemed but slight hope of being able to continue our +journey. But as the days passed, and we were left undisturbed, we began +to realise the fact that we had found an asylum, safe as pleasant. + +"It was not likely that anyone would discover the track we had taken in +our flight. Even the resentment of Uraga would scarce pursue us across +the Staked Plain. In any case, there was no help for it but to remain +in the valley, as we had not animals enough to carry us on. Our only +alternative was to go back to the Del Norte--a thing not to be thought +of. We resolved, therefore, on staying, at least for a time. I had +conceived a plan for communicating with my friends in New Mexico, and am +not without hope that sooner or later we may get tidings that will make +it safe for as to return. In our country, as you know, there is nothing +permanent; and we have hopes ere long to see the Liberal party once more +in the ascendant. + +"Our resolution to remain here becoming fixed we sot about making our +situation as comfortable as circumstances would permit. We erected this +humble tenement whose roof now shelters us. We turned fishermen and +hunters; in the last my sister proving more accomplished than any of +us--a real huntress, as you have seen. We have enjoyed the life +amazingly; more especially our worthy _medico_, who is an enthusiastic +naturalist, and here finds a rare opportunity of gratifying his +scientific tastes. For subsistence we have not had to depend altogether +upon the chase. Manuel, one of our peons, an old muleteer, makes an +occasional trip to Albuquerque, the route of which he has good reason to +remember. I send him with messages, and to purchase provisions. He is +cautious to make his approaches under cover of night, and do his +marketing with circumspection. With our gold, not yet all gone, he is +enabled to bring back such commodities as we stand in need of; while a +friend, entrusted with the secret of our hiding-place, keeps us informed +of the _novedades_. Now you know all." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. + +THE INTERCEPTED LETTER. + +Colonel Miranda, having told the tale of his perilous escape, for a time +remains silent and reflective. So does his listener. Both are thinking +on the same subject--the villainy of Gil Uraga. + +Hamersley first breaks silence, asking the question,-- + +"Did you get my letter?" + +"What letter?" + +"I wrote you only one. Now I think of it, you could not have received +it. No. By the time it would reach Albuquerque, you must have been +gone from there." + +"I got no letter from you, Don Francisco. You say you sent one. What +was the nature of its contents?" + +"Nothing of any importance. Merely to say that I was coming back to New +Mexico, and hoped to find you in good health." + +"Did it particularise the time you expected to reach Albuquerque?" + +"Yes; as far as I could fix that, if I remember rightly, it did." + +"And the route you were to take?" + +"That too. When I wrote the letter I intended to make trial of a new +trail lately discovered--up the Canadian, and touching the northern end +of the Staked Plain. I did make trial of it, alas! with lamentable +result. But why do you ask these questions, Colonel Miranda?" + +The colonel does not make immediate answer. He appears more meditative +than ever, as though some question has come before his mind calling for +deliberate examination. + +While he is thus occupied the ex-Ranger enters the room and sits down +beside them. Walt is welcome. Indeed, Don Valerian had already +designed calling him into their counsel. For an idea has occurred to +the Mexican Colonel requiring the joint consideration of all three. +Turning to the other two, he says,-- + +"I've been thinking a good deal about the attack on your caravan. The +more I reflect on it the more I am led to believe that some of the +Indians who plundered you were painted." + +"They were all painted," is the reply of the young prairie merchant. + +"True, Don Francisco; but that isn't what I mean." + +"I reckon I knows what ye mean," interposes the ex-Ranger, rising +excitedly from his chair on hearing the Mexican's remark. "It's been my +own suspeeshun all along. You know what I tolt ye, Frank?" + +Hamersley looks interrogatively at his old comrade. + +"Did I not say," continues Wilder, "that I seed two men 'mong the Injuns +wi' ha'r upon thar faces? They wa'n't Injuns; they war whites. A'n't +that what ye mean, Kurnel Meoranda?" + +"_Precisamente_!" is the colonel's reply. + +The other two wait for him to continue on with the explanation Wilder +has already surmised. Even the young prairie merchant--less experienced +in Mexican ways and wickedness, in infamy so incredible--begins to have +a glimmering of the truth. + +Seemingly weighing his words, Miranda proceeds,-- + +"No doubt it was a band of Comanche Indians that destroyed your caravan +and killed your comrades. But I have as little doubt of there being +white men among them--one at least, and that one he who planned and +instigated the deed." + +"Who, Colonel Miranda?" is the quick interrogatory of the Kentuckian, +while with flashing eyes and lips apart he breathlessly awaits the +answer. For all, he does not much need it; the name to be pronounced is +on the tip of his own tongue. + +It is again "Gil Uraga!" + +"Yes," replies the Mexican, with added emphasis. "He is, undoubtedly, +the robber who despoiled you. Though done in the guise of an Indian +onslaught, with real Indians as his assistants, he has been their +instructor--their leader. I see it all now clear as sunlight. He got +your letter, which you say was addressed to me as colonel commanding at +Albuquerque. As a matter of course, he opened it. It told him when and +where to meet you; your strength, and the value of your cargo. The last +has not been needed as an incentive for him to assail you, Don +Francisco. The mark you made upon his cheek was sufficient. Didn't I +tell you at the time he would move heaven and earth to have revenge on +you--on both of us? He has succeeded; behold his success. I a refugee, +robbed of everything; you plundered the same; both ruined men!" + +"Not yet!" cries the Kentuckian, starting to his feet. "Not ruined yet, +Colonel Miranda. If the thing be as you say, I shall seek a second +interview with this scoundrel--this fiend; seek till I obtain it. And +then--" + +"Hyur's one," interrupts the ex-Ranger, unfolding his gigantic form with +unusual rapidity, "who'll take part in that sarch. Yis, Frank, this +chile's willin' to go wi' ye to the heart o' Mexiko, plum centre; to the +halls o' the Montyzoomas; reddy to start this minnit." + +"If," resumes Hamersley, his coolness contrasting with the excited air +of his comrade, now roused to a terrible indignation, "if, Colonel +Miranda, it turns out as you conjecture, that Gil Uraga has taken part +in the destruction of my waggon-train, or even been instrumental in +causing it, I shall leave no stone unturned to obtain justice." + +"Justice!" exclaims the ex-Ranger, with a deprecatory toss of the head. +"In case o' this kind we want somethin' beside. To think o' thirteen +innercent men attacked without word o' warnin', shot down, stabbed, +slaughtered, and sculped! Think o' that; an' don't talk tamely o' +justice; let's shout loudly for revenge!" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. + +THE LAND OF THE "LEX TALIONIS." + +During the quarter of a century preceding the annexation of New Mexico +to the United States, that distant province of the Mexican Republic, +like all the rest of the country, was the scene of constantly recurring +revolutions. Every discontented captain, colonel, or general who +chanced to be in command of a district, there held sway as a dictator; +so demeaning himself that martial and military rule had become +established as the living law of the land. The civic authorities rarely +possessed more than the semblance of power; and where they did it was +wielded in the most flagitious manner. Arbitrary arts were constantly +committed, under the pretext of patriotism or duty. No man's life was +safe who fell under the displeasure of the ruling military chieftain; +and woman's honour was held in equally slight respect. + +In the northern frontier provinces of the republic this irresponsible +power of the soldiery was peculiarly despotic and harassing. There, two +causes contributed to establish and keep it in the ascendency. One of +these was the revolutionary condition of the country, which, as +elsewhere, had become chronic. The contest between the party of the +priests and that of the true patriots, begun in the first days of +Mexico's independence, has been continued ever since; now one, now the +other, in the ascendant. The monstrous usurpation of Maximilian, +supported by Napoleon the Third, and backed by a soldier whom all +Mexicans term the "Bandit Bazaine," was solely due to the hierarchy; +while Mexico owes its existing Republican government to the patriot +party--happily, for the time, triumphant. + +The province of New Mexico, notwithstanding its remoteness from the +nation's capital, was always affected by, and followed, its political +fortunes. When the _parti pretre_ was in power at the capital, its +adherents became the rulers in the distant States for the time being; +and when the Patriots, or Liberals, gained the upper hand this _role_ +was reversed. + +It is but just to say that, whenever the latter were the "ins," things +for the time went well. Corruption, though not cured, was to some +extent checked; and good government would begin to extend itself over +the land. But such could only last for a brief period. The +monarchical, dictatorial, or imperial party--by whatever name it may be +known--was always the party of the Church; and this, owning +three-fourths of the real estate, both in town and country, backed by +ancient ecclesiastical privileges, and armed with another powerful +engine--the gross superstition it had been instrumental in fostering-- +was always able to control events; so that no Government, not despotic, +could stand against it for any great length of time. For all, freedom +at intervals triumphed, and the priests became the "outs;" but ever +potent, and always active, they would soon get up a new "grito" to bring +about a revolutionary change in the Government. Sanguinary scenes would +be enacted--hangings, shooting, garrottings--all the horrors of civil +war that accompany the bitterest of all spite, the ecclesiastical. + +In such an uncertain state of things it was but natural that the +_militarios_ should feel themselves masters of the situation, and act +accordingly. + +In the northern districts they had yet another pretext for their +unrestrained exercise of power--in none more than New Mexico. This +remote province, lying like an oasis in the midst of uninhabited wilds, +was surrounded on all sides by tribes of hostile Indians. There were +the Navajoes and Apaches on its west, the Comanche and other Apache +bands on the south and east, the Utahs on its north, and various smaller +tribes distributed around it. They were all more or less hostile at one +time or another: now on terms of an intermittent peace, secured by a +"palaver" and treaty; this anon to be broken by some act of bad faith, +leaving their "braves" at liberty once more to betake themselves to the +war-path. + +Of course this condition of things gave the soldiery a fine opportunity +to maintain their ascendency over the peaceful citizens. Rabble as +these soldiers were, and poltroons as they generally proved themselves +in every encounter with the Indians, they were accustomed to boast of +being the country's protectors, for this "protection" assumed a sort of +right to despoil it at their pleasure. + +Some few years preceding the American-Mexican war--which, as well known, +gave New Mexico to the United States--these belligerent swaggerers were +in the zenith of their arbitrary rule. Their special pet and protector, +Santa Anna, was in for a new spell of power, making him absolute +dictator of Mexico and disposer of the destinies of its people. At the +same time, one of his most servile tools and successful imitators was at +the head of the Provincial Government, having Santa Fe for its capital. +This man was Manuel Armijo, whose character may be ascertained, by those +curious to study it, from reading the chronicles of the times, +especially the records of the prairie merchants, known as the "Santa Fe +traders." It will there be learnt that this provincial despot was +guilty of every act that could disgrace humanity; and that not only did +he oppress his fellow-citizens with the soldiery placed at his disposal +to protect them from Indian enemies, but was actually in secret league +with the savages themselves to aid him in his mulcts and murders! +Whatever his eye coveted he was sure to obtain, by fair means or foul-- +by open pillage or secret theft--not unfrequently accompanied by +assassination. And as with the despot himself, so with his +subordinates--each in his own town or district wielding irresponsible +power; all leading lives in imitation of the provincial chieftain, as he +of him--the great prototype and patron of all--who held dictatorial sway +in the capital of the country, Don Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. + +A knowledge of this abnormal and changeable condition of Mexican affairs +will, in some measure, explain why Colonel Miranda so suddenly ceased to +be commandant of Albuquerque. Santa Anna's new accession to power +brought in the _Padres_, turning out the _Patriotas_, many of the latter +suffering death for their patriotism, while the adherents of the former +received promotion for their support. + +Staunchest among these was the captain of Lancers, Gil Uraga, promoted +to be colonel as also commandant of the district from which its deposed +chief so narrowly escaped with his life. + +And now this revolutionary usurper is in full authority, his acts +imitating his master, Armijo, like him in secret league with the +savages, even consorting with the red pirates of the plains, taking part +in their murderous marauds, and sharing their plunder. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. + +PROSPEROUS, BUT NOT HAPPY. + +Despite his rapid military promotion and the ill-gotten wealth he has +acquired, Colonel Gil Uraga is anything but a happy man. Only at such +times as he is engaged in some stirring affair of duty or devilry, or +when under the influence of drink, is he otherwise than wretched. To +drinking he has taken habitually, almost continually. It is not to +drown conscience; he has none. The canker-worm that consumes him is not +remorse, but disappointment in a love affair, coupled with a thirst for +vengeance. + +There are moments when he is truly miserable, his misery reaching its +keenest whenever he either looks into his mirror or stands before a +portrait that hangs against the wall of the _sala_. It is a likeness of +Adela Miranda; for he has taken possession of the house of his +predecessor, with all its furniture and pictures, left in their hasty +retreat, the young lady's portrait as the rest. + +The Lancer colonel loves Adela Miranda; and though his love be of a +coarse, brutal nature, it is strong and intense as that the noblest man +may feel. + +In earlier days he believed there was a chance of his obtaining her +hand. Humble birth is no bar in Mexico--land of revolutions--where the +sergeant or common soldier of to-day may be a lieutenant, captain, or +colonel to-morrow. His hopes had been a stimulant to his military +aspirations; perchance one of the causes that first led him into crime. +He believed that wealth might bridge over the social distinction between +himself and her, and in this belief he cared not how it should be +acquired. For the rest he was not ill-looking, rather handsome, and +fairly accomplished. Like most Mexican _militarios_, he could boast of +his _bonnes fortunes_, which he often did. + +These have become more rare since receiving the sword-thrust from his +American adversary in the duel at Chihuahua, which not only cost him +three front teeth, but a hideous scar across the cheek. The teeth have +been replaced, but the scar cannot be effaced; it remains a frightful +cicatrix. Even his whiskers, let grow to their extremest outcrop, will +not all conceal it; it is too far forward upon the face. + +It was after this unfortunate affair that he made proposal to Adela +Miranda. And now he cannot help thinking it had something to do with +her abrupt and disdainful rejection of him, though the young lady's +little concealed disgust, coupled with her brother's indignation, had no +reference to the physical deformity. But for his blind passion he might +have perceived this. Fancying it so, however, it is not strange that he +goes half frantic, and can be heard giving utterance to fearful oaths +every time he glances in his looking-glass. + +After returning from his secret expedition of murder and pillage, he can +gaze with more equanimity into the glass. From the man who caused the +disfiguration of his visage he has exacted a terrible retribution. His +adversary in the Chihuahua duel is now no more. He has met with a fate +sufficient to satisfy the most implacable vengeance; and often, both +sober and in his cups, does Gil Uraga break out into peals of laughter, +like the glee of a demon, as he reflects on the torture, prolonged and +horrible, his hated enemy must have endured before life became extinct! + +But even all this does not appease his malevolent spirit. A portion of +his vengeance is yet unappeased--that due to him who was second in the +duel. And if it could be satisfied by the death of Miranda himself, +then there would still be the other thought to torture him--his thwarted +love scheme. The chagrin he suffers from this is stronger than his +thirst for vengeance. + +He is seated in the sala of Miranda's house, which he occupies as his +official headquarters. He is alone, his only companion being the bottle +that stands upon a table beside him--this and a cigar burning between +his lips. It is not wine he is drinking, but the whisky of Tequila, +distilled from the wild maguey. Wine is too weak to calm his perturbed +spirit, as he sits surveying the portrait upon the wall. + +His eyes have been on it several times; each time, as he takes them off, +drinking a fresh glass of the mezcal and igniting another cigar. What +signifies all his success in villainy? What is life worth without her? +He would plunder a church to obtain possession of her--murder his +dearest friend to get from Adela Miranda one approving smile. + +Such are his coarse thoughts as he sits soliloquising, shaping +conjectures about the banished commandant and his sister. + +Where can they have gone to? In all probability to the United States-- +that asylum of rebels and refugees. In the territory of New Mexico they +cannot have stayed. His spies have searched every nook and corner of +it, their zeal secured by the promise of large rewards. He has +dispatched secret emissaries to the Rio Abajo, and on to the _Provincias +Internas_. But no word of Miranda anywhere--no trace can be found +either of him or his sister. "_Chingara_!" + +As if this exclamatory phrase, sent hissing through his teeth--too foul +to bear translation--were the name of a man, one at this moment appears +in the doorway, who, after a gesture of permission to enter, steps +inside the room. + +He is an officer in full uniform--one whom we have met before, though +not in military costume. It is Lieutenant Roblez, Uraga's adjutant, as +also his confederate in crime. + +"I'm glad you've come, _ayudante_," says the Colonel, motioning the +new-comer to a seat. "I'm feeling a little bit lonely, and I want some +one to cheer me. You, Roblez, are just the man for that; you've got +such a faculty for conversation." + +This is ironical; for Roblez is as silent as an owl. + +"Sit down and give me your cheerful company," the Colonel adds. "Have a +cigar and a _copita_ of this capital stuff; it's the best that Tequila +produces." + +"I've brought other company that may be more cheerful than mine," +returns the adjutant, still keeping his feet. + +"Ah! some of our fellows from the cuartel? Bring them in." + +"It is not any of the officers, Colonel. There's only one man, and he's +a civilian. + +"Civilian or soldier, you're free to introduce him. I hope," he adds, +in an undertone, "it's one of the _ricos_ of the neighbourhood, who +won't mind taking an _albur_ at _monte_ or a throw of the dice. I'm +just in the vein for a bit of play." + +"He I'm going to introduce don't look much like a _rico_. From what I +can see of him in the darkness, I should say that the blanket upon his +shoulders and his sheepskin smallclothes--somewhat dilapidated by the +way--are about all the property he possesses." + +"He's a stranger to you, then?" + +"As much as to yourself, as you'll say after seeing him--perhaps more." + +"What sort of man is he?" + +"For that matter, he can hardly be described as a man. At least, he's +not one of the _gent-de-razon_. He's only an Indian." + +"Ha! Comanche?" + +As he utters this interrogatory, Colonel Gil Uraga gives a slight start, +and looks a little uneasy. His relations with men of the Indian race +are of a delicate nature; and, although keen to cultivate their +acquaintance whenever occasion requires it, he prefers keeping all +Indians at a distance--more especially Comanches, when he has no +particular need of their services. The thought has flashed across his +mind that the man waiting to be ushered into his presence may be a +messenger from the Horned Lizard; and with the Tenawa chief he desires +no further dealings--at least for a time. Therefore, the belief of its +being an emissary from his red-skinned confederate somewhat discomposes +him. + +The reply of his subordinate, however, reassures him. + +"No, colonel, he's not a Comanche; bears no resemblance to one, only in +the colour of his skin. He appears to be a Pueblo; and from his +tattered costume, I take him to be some poor labourer." + +"But what does he want with me?" + +"That, colonel, I cannot say; only that he has expressed a very urgent +desire to speak with you. I fancy he has something to communicate, +which might be important for you to hear; else I should not have taken +the liberty to bring him here." + +"You have him at hand?" + +"I have. He is outside in the _patio_. Shall I usher him in?" + +"By all means; there can be no harm in hearing what the fellow has to +say. It may be about some threatened invasion of the savages; and as +protectors of the people, you, ayudante, know it's our duty to do +whatever we can for warding off such a catastrophe." + +The colonel laughs at his sorry jest; the adjutant expressing his +appreciation of it in a shrug of the shoulders, accompanied by a grim +smile. + +"Bring the brute in!" is the command that followed, succeeded by the +injunction. + +"Stay outside in the court till I send for or call you. The fellow may +have something to say intended for only one pair of ears. Take a glass +of the _mezcal_, light cigarrito, and amuse yourself as you best may." + +The adjutant obeys the first two of these directions; then, stepping out +of the _sala_, leaves his superior officer alone. + +Uraga glances around to assure himself that there are weapons within +reach. With a conscience like his, a soul charged with crime, no +wonder. + +His sabre rests against the wall close to his hand, while a pair of +dragoon pistols, both loaded, lie upon the table. + +Satisfied with the proximity of these weapons, he sits upright in his +chair and tranquilly awaits the entrance of the Indian. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY. + +A CONFIDENCE WELL REWARDED. + +Only a short interval, a score of seconds elapses, when the door, once +more opening, admits the expected visitor. The adjutant, after ushering +him into the room, withdraws, and commences pacing to and fro in the +patio. + +Colonel Gil Uraga feels very much inclined to laugh as he contemplates +the new-comer, and reflects on the precautions he has taken. A poor +devil of an Indian _peon_, in coarse woollen _tilma_, tanned sheepskin +trousers reaching only to the knee, bare legs below, _guaraches_ upon +his feet, and a straw hat upon his head; his long black hail hanging +unkempt over his shoulders; his mien humble and looks downcast, like all +of his tribe. Yet it might be seen that, on occasion, his eyes could +flash forth a light, indicative of danger--a fierce, fiery light, such +as may have shone in the orbs of his ancestors when they rallied around +Guatimozin, and with clubs and stakes beat back the spears and swords of +their Spanish invaders. + +At the entrance of this humble personage, into the splendidly furnished +apartment, his first act is to pull off his tattered straw hat, and make +lowly obeisance to the gorgeously attired officer he sees sitting behind +the table. + +Up to this time Uraga has presumed him to be a perfect stranger, but +when the broad brim of the sombrero no longer casts its shade over his +face, and his eyelids become elevated through increasing confidence, the +colonel starts to his feet with an exclamatory speech that tells of +recognition. + +"_Carrambo_! You are Manuel--mule driver for Don Valerian Miranda?" + +"_Si, Senor; a servido de V_ (Yes, Sir; at your Excellency's service)," +is the reply meekly spoken, and accompanied with a second sweep of the +straw hat--as gracefully as if given by a Chesterfield. + +At sight of this old acquaintance, a world of thought rushes crowding +through the brain of Gil Uraga--conjectures, mingled with pleasant +anticipations. + +For it comes back to his memory, that at the time of Colonel Miranda's +escape, some of his domestics went off with him, and he remembers that +Manuel was one of them. In the Indian bending so respectfully before +him he sees, or fancies, the first link of a chain that may enable him +to trace the fugitives. Manuel should know something about their +whereabouts? And the _ci devant_ mule driver is now in his power for +any purpose--be it life or death. + +There is that in the air and attitude of the Indian which tells him +there will be no need to resort to compulsory measures. The information +he desires can be obtained without, and he determines to seek it by +adopting the opposite course. + +"My poor fellow," he says, "you look distressed--as if you had just come +from off a toilsome journey. Here, take a taste of something to +recuperate your strength; then you can let me know what you've got to +say. I presume you've some communication to make to me, as the military +commandant of the district. Night or day, I am always ready to give a +hearing to those who bring information that concerns the welfare of the +State." + +While speaking the colonel has poured out a glass of the distilled +mezcal juice. This the peon takes from his hand, and, nothing loth, +spills the liquor between his two rows of white glittering teeth. + +Upon his stomach, late unused to it, the fiery spirit produce! an effect +almost instantaneous; and the moment after he becomes freely +communicative--if not so disposed before. But he has been; therefore +the disclosures that follow are less due to the alcohol than to a +passion every whit as inflammatory. He is acting under the stimulus of +a revenge, terrible and long restrained. + +"I've missed you from about here, Manuel," says the colonel, in kindly +tones, making his approaches with skill. "Where have you been all this +while, my good man?" + +"With my master," is the peon's reply. + +"Ah, indeed! I thought your master had gone clear out of the country?" + +"Out of the settled part of it only, senor." + +"Oh! he is still, then, within Mexican territory! I am glad to hear +that. I was very sorry to think we'd lost such a good citizen and +patriot as Don Valerian Miranda. True, he and I differ in our views as +regards government; but that's nothing, you know, Manuel. Men may be +bitter political enemies, yet very good friends. By-the-way, where is +the colonel now?" + +Despite his apparent stolidity, the Indian is not so stupid as to be +misled by talk like this. With a full knowledge of the situation-- +forced upon him by various events--the badinage of the brilliant +_militario_ does not for a moment blind him. Circumstances have given +him enough insight into Uraga's character and position to know that the +tatter's motives should somewhat resemble his own. He has long been +aware that the Lancer colonel is in love with his young mistress, as +much as he himself with her maid. Without this knowledge he might not +have been there--at least, not with so confident an expectation of +success in the design that has brought him hither. For design he has, +deep, deadly, and traitorous. + +Despite the influence of the aguardiente, fast loosening his tongue, he +is yet somewhat cautious in his communications; and not until Uraga +repeats the question does he make answer to it. Then comes the +response, slowly and reluctantly, as if from one of his long-suffering +race, who has discovered a mine of precious metal, and is being put to +the torture to "denounce" it. + +"Senor coronel," he says, "how much will your excellency give to know +where my master now is? I have heard that there's a large bounty +offered for Don Valerian's head." + +"That is an affair that concerns the State. For myself, I've nothing +personally to do with it. Still, as an officer of the Government, it is +my duty to take what steps I can towards making your master a prisoner. +I think I may promise a good reward to anyone who, by giving +information, would enable me to arrest a fugitive rebel and bring him +before the bar of justice. Can you do that?" + +"Well, your excellency, that will depend. I'm only a poor man, and need +money to live upon. Don Valerian is my master, and if anything were to +happen to him I should lose my situation. What am I to do?" + +"Oh, you'd easily get another, and better. A man of your strength-- By +the way, talking of strength, my good Manuel, you don't seem to have +quite recovered from your journey, which must have been long and +fatiguing. Take another _copita_; you're in need of it; 'twill do you +good." + +Pressure of this sort put upon an Indian, be he _bravo_ or _manso_, is +rarely resisted. Nor is it in Manuel's case. He readily yields to it, +and tosses off another glass of the aguardiente. + +Before the strong alcohol can have fairly filtered down into his stomach +its fumes ascend to his skull. + +The cowed, cautious manner--a marked characteristic of his race--now +forsakes him; the check-strings of his tongue become relaxed, and, with +nothing before his mind save his scheme of vengeance, and that of +securing Conchita, he betrays the whole secret of Colonel Miranda's +escape--the story of his retreat across the Staked Plain, and his +residence in the lone valley. + +When he further informs Uraga about the two guests who have strayed to +this solitary spot, and, despite his maudlin talk, minutely describes +the men, his listener utters a loud cry, accompanied by a gesture of +such violence as to overturn the table, sending bottle and glasses over +the floor. + +He does not stay to see the damage righted, but with a shout that +reverberates throughout the whole house, summons his adjutant, and also +the corporal of his guard. + +"_Cabo_!" he cries, addressing himself to the latter in a tone at once +vociferous and commanding; "take this man to the guard-house! And see +you keep him there, so that he may be forthcoming when wanted. Take +heed to hold him safe. If he be missing, you shall be shot ten minutes +after I receive the report of it. You have the word of Gil Uraga for +that." + +From the way the corporal makes prisoner the surprised peon, almost +throttling him, it is evident he does not intend running any risk of +being shot for letting the latter escape. The Indian appears suddenly +sobered by the rough treatment he is receiving. But he is too much +astonished to find speech for protest. Mute, and without offering the +slightest resistance, he is dragged out through the open doorway, to all +appearance more dead than alive. + +"Come, Roblez!" hails his superior officer, as soon as the door has +closed behind the guard corporal and his captive, "Drink with me! +Drink! First to revenge! I haven't had it yet, as I'd thought; that +has all to be gone over again. But it's sure now--surer than ever. +After, we shall drink to success in love. Mine is not hopeless, yet. +Lost! she is found again--found! Ah, my darling Adela!" he exclaims, +staggering towards the portrait, and in tipsy glee contemplating it, +"you thought to escape me; but no. No one can get away from Gil Uraga-- +friend, sweetheart, or enemy. You shall yet be enfolded in these arms; +if not as my wife, my--_margarita_!" + + + +CHAPTER FORTY ONE. + +AN EARTHLY PARADISE. + + "Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, + With one fair spirit for my monitor! + That I might all forget the human race, + And, hating no one, love but only her. + Ye elements, in whose ennobling stir + I feel myself exalted, can ye not + Accord me such a being? Do I err + In deeming such inhabit many a spot-- + Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot." + +Oft during his sojourn in the sequestered valley do these lines occur to +the young prairie merchant. And vividly; for, in very truth, he has +realised the aspiration of the poet. + +But, though dwelling in a desert, far different is the scene habitually +before his eyes. From the front of the humble chalet that has so +opportunely afforded him a shelter, seated under the spreading branches +of a pecan-tree, he can look on a landscape lovely as ever opened to the +eyes of man--almost as that closed against our first parents when +expelled from Paradise. Above he beholds a sapphire sky, scarce ever +shadowed by a cloud; a sun whose fierce, fervid beams become softened as +they fall amid the foliage of evergreen oaks; among clustering groves +that show all the varied tints of verdure, disporting upon green glassy +glades, and glinting into arbours overshadowed by the sassafras laurel, +the Osage orange, and the wild China-tree, laced together by a trellis +of grape vines. A lake in the centre of this luxurious vegetation, +placid as sleep itself, only stirred by the webbed feet of waterfowl, or +the wings of dipping swallows, with above and below a brawling rivulet, +here and there showing cascades like the tails of white horses, or the +skirts of ballroom belles floating through waltz or gallopade. + +In correspondence with these fair sights are the sounds heard. By day +the cooing of doves, the soft tones of the golden oriole, and the lively +chatter of the red cardinal; by night the booming note of the bull-bat, +the sonorous call of the trumpeter swan, and that lay far excelling +all--the clear song of the polyglot thrush, the famed mocking-bird of +America. + +No wonder the invalid, recovering from his illness, after the long dark +spell that has obscured his intellect, wrapping his soul, as it were, in +a shroud--no wonder he fancies the scene to be a sort of Paradise, +worthy of being inhabited by Peris. One is there he deems fair as Houri +or Peri, unsurpassed by any ideal of Hindoo or Persian fable--Adela +Miranda. In her he beholds beauty of a type striking as rare; not +common anywhere, and only seen among women in whose veins courses the +blue blood of Andalusia--a beauty perhaps not in accordance with the +standard of taste acknowledged in the icy northland. The _vigolite_ +upon her upper lip might look a little bizarre in an assemblage of Saxon +dames, just as her sprightly spirit would offend the sentiment of a +strait-laced Puritanism. + +It has no such effect upon Frank Hamersley. The child of a land above +all others free from conventionalism, with a nature attuned to the +picturesque, these peculiarities, while piquing his fancy, have fixed +his admiration. Long before leaving his sick couch there has been but +one world for him--that where dwells Adela Miranda; but one being in +it--herself. + +Surely it was decreed by fate that these two should love one another! +Surely for them was there a marriage in heaven! Else why brought +together in such a strange place and by such a singular chain of +circumstances? + +For himself, Hamersley thinks of this--builds hopes upon it deeming it +an omen. + +Another often occurs to him, also looking like fate. He remembers that +portrait on the wall at Albuquerque, and how it had predisposed him in +favour of the original. The features of Spano-Mexican type--so unlike +those he had been accustomed to in his own country--had vividly +impressed him. Gazing upon it he had almost felt love for the likeness. +Then the description of the young girl given by her brother, with the +incidents that led to friendly relations between him and Colonel +Miranda, all had contributed to sow the seed of a tender sentiment in +the heart of the young Kentuckian. It had not died out. Neither time +nor absence had obliterated it. Far off--even when occupied with the +pressing claims of business--that portrait-face had often appeared upon +the retina of his memory, and often also in the visions of dreamland. +Now that he has looked upon it in reality--sees it in all its blazing +beauty, surrounded by scenes picturesque as its own expression, amid +incidents romantic as his fancy could conjure up--now that he knows it +as the face of her who has saved his life, is it any wonder the slight, +tender sentiment first kindled by the painted picture should become +stronger at the sight of the living original? + +It has done this--become a passion that pervade his soul, filling his +whole heart. All the more from its being the first he has ever felt-- +the first love of his life. And for this also all the more does he +tremble as he thinks of the possibility of its being unreciprocated. + +He has been calculating the chances in his favour every hour since +consciousness returned to him. And from some words heard in that very +hour has he derived greater pleasure, and draws more hope than from +aught that has occurred since. Constantly does he recall that +soliloquy, speech spoken under the impression that it did not reach his +ears. + +There has been nothing afterwards--neither word nor deed--to give him +proof he is beloved. The lady has been a tender nurse--a hostess +apparently solicitous for the happiness of her guest--nothing more. +Were the words she had so thoughtlessly spoken unfelt, and without any +particular meaning? Or was the speech but an allusion, born from the +still lingering distemper of his brain? + +He yearns to know the truth. Every hour that he remains ignorant of it, +he is in torture equalling that of Tantalus. Yet he fears to ask, lest +in the answer he may have a painful revelation. + +He almost envies Walt Wilder his commonplace love, its easy conquest, +and somewhat grotesque declaration. He wishes he could propose with +like freedom, and receive a similar response. His comrade's success +should embolden him; but does not. There is no parallelism between the +parties. + +Thus he delays seeking the knowledge he most desires to possess, through +fear it may afflict him. Not from any lack of opportunity. Since +almost all the time is he left alone with her he so worships. Nothing +stands in his way--no zealous watchfulness of a brother. Don Valerian +neglects every step of fraternal duty--if to take such ever occurred to +him. His time is fully occupied in roving around the valley, or making +more distant excursions, in the companionship of the _ci-devant_ Ranger, +who narrates to him a strange chapter in the life-lore of the prairies. + +When Walt chances to be indoors, he has companion of his own, which +hinder him from too frequently intruding upon his comrade. Enough for +him the company of Conchita. + +Hamersley has equally as little to dread the intrusion of Don Prospero. +Absorbed in his favourite study of Nature, the ex-army surgeon passes +most of his hours in communion with her. More than half the day is he +out of doors, chasing lizards into their crevices among the rocks, +impaling insects on the spikes of the wild maguey plant, or plucking +such flowers as seem new to the classified list of the botanist. In +these tranquil pursuits he is perhaps happier than all around--even +those whose hearts throb with that supreme passion, full of sweetness, +but too often bringing bitterness. + +So ever near the shrine of his adoration, having it all to himself, +Hamersley worships on, but in silence. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY TWO. + +A DANGEROUS DESIGN. + +At length the day, the hour, is at hand when the young Kentuckian +purposes taking departure. He does not anticipate this with pleasure. +On the contrary, the prospect gives him pain. In that sequestered spot +he could linger long--for ever, if Adela Miranda were to be with him. +He is leaving it with reluctance, and would stay longer now, but that he +is stirred by a sense of duty. He has to seek justice for the +assassination of his teamsters, and, if possible, punish their +assassins. To obtain this he intends going on to the Del Norte--if need +be, to Albuquerque itself. The information given by the ex-commandant, +with all the suspicious circumstances attending, have determined him how +to act. He intends calling Uraga to account; but not by the honourable +action of a duel, but in a court of justice, if such can be found in New +Mexico. + +"If it turns out as we have been conjecturing," he says, in conversation +with Miranda, "I shall seek the scoundrel in his own stronghold. If he +be not there, I shall follow him elsewhere--ay, all over Mexico." + +"Hyar's one'll be wi' ye in that chase," cries the ex-Ranger, coming up +at the moment. "Yis, Frank, go wi' ye to the heart o' Mexiko, plum +centre; to the halls o' the Montezoomas, if ye like, enywhar to be in at +the death o' a skunk like that." + +"Surely, Colonel Miranda," continues Hamersley, gratified, though not +carried away by his old comrade's enthusiastic offer of assistance, +"surely there is law in your land sufficient to give redress for such an +outrage as that." + +"My dear Don Francisco," replies the Mexican, tranquilly twirling a +cigarrito between his fingers, "there is law for those who have the +power and money to obtain it. In New Mexico, as you must yourself know, +might makes right; and never more than at this present time. Don Manuel +Armijo is once more the governor of my unfortunate fatherland. When I +tell you that he rose to his present position by just such a crime as +that we've been speaking of, you may then understand the sort of law +administered under his rule. Manuel Armijo was a shepherd, employed on +one occasion to drive a flock of thirty thousand sheep--the property of +his employer, the Senor Chavez--to the market Chihuahua. While crossing +the Jornado del Muerte, he and one or two confederates, whom he had put +up to his plan, disguised themselves as Apache Indians, attacked their +fellow sheep-drivers, murdered them, and made themselves masters of the +flock. Then pulling the plumes from their heads, and washing the paint +off their faces, they drove their muttons to a different market, sold +them, and returned to Chavez to tell a tale of Indian spoliation, and +how they themselves had just escaped with their scalps. This is the +true history of General Don Manuel Armijo, Governor of New Mexico; at +least that of his first beginnings. With such and many similar deeds +since, is it likely he would look with any other than a lenient eye on +the doings of Gil Urago, his imitator? No, senor, not even if you could +prove the present commandant of Albuquerque, in full, open court, to +have been the individual who robbed yourself and murdered your men." + +"I shall try, for all that," rejoins Hamersley, his heart wrung with +sorrow at the remembrance of his slaughtered comrades, and bursting with +the bitter thought of justice thus likely to be obstructed. "Don't +suppose Colonel Miranda, that I intend resting my cause on the clemency +of Don Manuel Armijo, or any chance of right to be expected at his +hands. There's a wide stretch of desert between the United States and +Mexico, but not wide enough to hinder the American eagle from flapping +its wings across, and giving protection to all who have a right to claim +it, even to a poor prairie trader. A thousand thanks, Colonel Miranda. +I owe you that for twice saving my life, and now for setting me on the +track of him who has twice endangered it. No use your trying to +dissuade me. I shall go in search of this _forban_ direct to the valley +of the Del Norte. Don't fear that I shall fail in obtaining justice, +whatever Don Manuel Armijo may do to defeat it." + +"Well, if you are determined I shall not hold out against you. Only I +fear your errand may be fruitless, if not worse. The two mules are at +your service, and you can leave them at a place I shall indicate. When +Manuel returns I shall send him to bring them back." + +"Possibly I may bring them myself. I do not intend making stay in New +Mexico; only long enough to communicate with the American Consul at +Santa Fe, and take some preliminary steps for the end in view. Then I +shall return to the--States to lay the whole affair before our +Government." + +"And you think of coming this way?" + +"Walt, here, has been making explorations down the stream that runs +through this valley; he has no doubt about its being one of the heads of +the Red River of Louisiana, if not the Texan Brazos. By keeping down it +we can reach the frontier settlements of Texas, then on to the States." + +"I'm glad you intend returning this way. It will give us the pleasure +of soon again seeing you." + +"Colonel Miranda," rejoins Hamersley, in a tone that tells of something +on his mind, a proposition he would make to his host, and feels delicacy +in declaring it, "in coming back by the Llano Estacado I have another +object in view besides the idea of a direct route." + +"What other object, _amago mio_?" + +"The hope of inducing you to accompany me to the States--you and yours." + +"Senor Don Francisco, 'tis exceedingly kind of you. But the period of +our banishment may not be long. I've had late news from our friends, +telling me things are taking a turn and the political wheel must soon +make another revolution, the present party going below. Then I get back +to my country, returning triumphant. Meanwhile we are happy enough +here, and I think safe." + +"In the last I disagree with you. I'm sorry to say, but have reasons. +Now that I know the real character of this ruffian Uraga--his deeds +actually done, and others we suspect--he's just the man who'll leave no +stone unturned to discover your hiding place. He has more than one +motive for doing so, but one that will move him to follow you here into +the desert--aye, to the uttermost end of the earth!" + +The motive in the speaker's mind is Uraga's desire to possess Adela. + +After a pause, this though: passing him, he adds,-- + +"No, Don Valerian, you are not safe here." + +Then, continuing,-- + +"How know you that your servant Manuel has not been recognised while +executing some of those errands on which you've sent him; or that the +man himself may not turn traitor? I confess, from what I've seen of the +fellow, he has not favourably impressed me." + +The words make an impression upon Miranda anything but pleasant. It is +not the first time for him to have the thought suggested by them. More +than once has he entertained suspicions about the peon's fidelity. It +is possible the man might prove traitor; if not then, at some future +time--aye, and probable, too, considering the reward offered for the +exile's head. + +Miranda, knowing and now thinking of it, admits the justice of his +friend's fear. More; he sees cause for raising alarm. So does Don +Prospero, who, at the moment coming up, takes part in the conference. + +It ends in the refugees resolving to stay in the valley till Hamersley +and Walt can return to them; then to forsake that asylum, no longer +deemed safe, and retire to one certainly so--the land over which waves a +flag powerful to protect its citizens and give the same to their +friends--the Star-spangled Banner. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY THREE. + +THE LAST APPEAL. + +"I have news for you, _nina_." + +It is Colonel Miranda speaking to his sister, shortly after the +conversation reported. + +"What news, Valerian?" + +"Well, there are two sorts of them." + +"Both good, I hope." + +"Not altogether; one will be pleasant to you, the other, perhaps, a +little painful." + +"In that case they should neutralise one another; anyhow, let me hear +them." + +"I shall tell the pleasant ones first. We shall soon have an +opportunity of leaving this lonely place." + +"Do you call that good news? I rather think it the reverse. What will +the bad be?" + +"But, dear Adela, our life here, away from all society, has been a harsh +experience--to you a terrible one." + +"In that, _hermano mio_, you're mistaken. You know I don't care a straw +for what the world calls society--never did. I prefer being free from +its stupid restraints and silly conventionalities. Give me Nature for +my companion--ay, in her wildest scenes and most surly moods." + +"Surely you've had both to a surfeit." + +"Nothing of the kind; I'm not tired of Nature yet. I have never been +happier than in this wilderness home. How different from my convent +school--my prison, I should rather call it! Oh, it is charming! and if +I were to have my way, it should never come to an end. But why do you +talk of leaving this place? Do you suppose the troubles are over, and +we can return safely? I don't wish to go there, brother. After what +has happened, I hate New Mexico, and would prefer staying in the Llano +Estacado." + +"I have no thought of going back to New Mexico." + +"Where, then, brother?" + +"In the very opposite direction--to the United States. Don Francisco +advises me to do so; and I have yielded to his counsel." + +Adela seems less disposed to offer opposition. She no longer protests +against the change of residence. + +"Dear sister," he continues, "we cannot do better. There seems little +hope of our unfortunate country getting rid of her tyrants--at least, +for some time to come. When the day again arrives for our patriots to +pronounce, I shall know it in time to be with them. Now, we should only +think of our safety. Although I don't wish to alarm you, I've never +felt it quite safe here. Who knows, but that Uraga may yet discover our +hiding-place? He has his scouts searching in all directions. Every +time Manuel makes a visit to the settlements, I have fear of his being +followed back. Therefore, I think it will be wiser for us to carry out +our original design, and go on to the American States." + +"Do you intend accompanying Don Francisco?" + +She listens eagerly for an answer. + +"Yes; but not now. It will be some time before he can return to us." + +"He is going home first, and will then come back?" + +"Not home--not to his home." + +"Where, then?" + +"That is the news I thought might be painful. He has resolved upon +going on to our country for reasons already known to you. We suspect +Uraga of having been at the head of the red robbers who have plundered +him and killed his people. He is determined to find out and punish the +perpetrators of that foul deed. It will be difficult; nay, more, there +will be danger in his attempting it--I've told him so." + +"Dear brother, try to dissuade him!" + +If Hamersley could but hear the earnest tone in which the appeal is +spoken it would give him gratification. + +"I have tried, but to no purpose. It is not the loss of his property-- +he is generous, and does not regard it. His motive is a nobler, a +holier one. His comrades have been murdered; he says he will seek the +assassins and obtain redress, even at the risk of sacrificing his own +life." + +"A hero! Who could not help loving him?" + +Adela does not say this aloud, nor to her brother. It is a thought, +silent within the secret recesses of her own heart. + +"If you wish," continues the colonel, "I will see him, and again try to +turn him from this reckless course; though I know there is little hope. +Stay! a thought strikes me, sister. Suppose you speak to him. A +woman's words are more likely to be listened to; and I know that yours +will have great weight with him. He looks upon you as the saviour of +his life, and may yield to your request." + +"If you think so, Valerian--" + +"I do. I see him coming this way. Remain where you are. I shall send +him in to you." + +With a heart heaving and surging, Hamersley stands in the presence of +her, the sole cause of its tumultuous excitement. For he has been +summoned thither in a manner that somewhat surprises him. "Don +Francisco, my sister wishes a word with you," is the speech of Colonel +Miranda, an invitation promptly responded to. + +What is to be the import of his interview, unexpected, unsought, +apparently commanded? + +He asks himself this question as he proceeds towards the place where she +stands waiting to receive him. Coming up to her, he says,-- + +"Senorita, your brother has told me you wish to speak with me?" + +"I do," she replies, without quail in her look or quiver in her voice. + +In returning her glance Hamersley feels as if his case is hopeless. +That very day he had thought of proposing to her. It almost passes from +his mind. So cool, she cannot care for him. He remains silent, leaving +her to proceed. + +"Senor, it is about your going to the Rio del Norte. My brother tells +me such is your intention. We wish you not to go, Don Francisco. There +is danger in your doing it." + +"It is my duty." + +"In what respect? Explain yourself!" + +"My brave comrades have been slain--assassinated. I have reason to +believe that in the town of Albuquerque I may discover their assassins-- +at all events their chief, and perhaps bring him to justice. I intend +trying, if it costs me my life." + +"Do you reflect what your life is worth?" + +"To me not much." + +"It may be to others. You have at home a mother, brothers, and sisters. +Perhaps one dearer?" + +"No--not at home." + +"Elsewhere, then?" + +He is silent under this searching inquisition. + +"Do you think that danger to your life would be unhappiness to her's-- +your death her life's misery?" + +"My dishonour should be more, as it would to myself. It is not +vengeance I seek against those who have murdered my men, only to bring +them to justice. I must do that, or else proclaim myself a poltroon--I +feel myself one--a self-accusation that would give me a life-long +remorse. No, Senorita Adela. It is kind of you to take an interest in +my safety. I already owe you my life; but I cannot permit you to save +it again, at the sacrifice of honour, of duty, of humanity." + +Hamersley fancies himself being coldly judged and counselled with +indifference. Could he know the warm, wild admiration struggling in the +breast of her who counsels him, he would make rejoinder in different +fashion. + +Soon after he talks in an altered tone, and with changed understanding. +So also does she, hitherto so difficult of comprehension. + +"Go!" she cries. "Go and get redress of your wrongs, justice for your +fallen comrades; and if you can, the punishment of their assassins. But +remember! if it brings death to you, there is one who will not care to +live after." + +"Who?" he asks, springing forward, with heart on fire and eyes aflame. +"Who?" + +He scarce needs to put the question. It is already answered by the +emphasis on her last words. + +But it is again replied to, this time in a more tranquil tone; the long, +dark lashes of the speaker veiling her eyes as she pronounces her own +name,-- + +"_Adela Miranda_!" + +From poverty to riches, from a dungeon to bright daylight, from the +agonising struggle of drowning to that confident feeling when the feet +stand firm upon terra firma--all these are sensations of a +pleasantly-exciting kind. They are dull in comparison with that +delirious joy, the lot of the despairing lover on finding that his +despair has been all a fancy, and that his passion is reciprocated. + +Such a joy thrills through Hamersley's breast as he hears the name +pronounced. It is like a cabalistic speech, throwing open to him the +portals of Paradise. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. + +A MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE. + +As is known, Hamersley's suspicions about the treachery of the peon are +not without cause. On the contrary, they might seem second-sight. For, +almost at the moment he is communicating them to Colonel Miranda, the +native is telling his tale to Uraga. + +Nor does the latter lose much time in acting upon the information +gained--only that short interlude given to exultation as he stepped up +to the portrait of Adela Miranda, and stood triumphantly regarding the +likeness of her he now looks upon as sure to be his. He has no hope to +get possession of her by fair means; foul are alone in his thoughts. + +After delivering his half-frenzied apostrophe to the painted image, he +returns to the table, beside which Roblez has already taken a seat. + +They re-fill their glasses, and drink the toasts specified, with a +ceremony in strange contrast to the hellish glee sparkling in the eyes +of the Lancer-Colonel. His countenance beams with triumph, such as +might be shown by Satan over the ruin of innocence. For he now feels +sure of his victims--alike that of his love as well as those of his +revenge. + +Not long does he remain over his cups in the company of his subordinate. +He has an important matter upon his mind which calls for reflection--in +silence and by himself. + +Though often admitting his adjutant to a share in his criminal schemes, +the participation is only in their profits and the act of execution. +Despotic even in his villainies, he keeps the planning to himself, for +he has secrets even Roblez must not know. And now an idea has dawned +upon his mind, a purpose he does not care to communicate to the +subaltern till such time as may be necessary or seem fit to him. Not +that he dreads treachery on the part of his fellow freebooter. They are +mutually compromised, and long have been; too much to tell tales about +one another. Besides, Roblez, though a man of undoubted courage, of the +coarse, animal kind, has, neverthless, a certain moral dread of his +commanding officer, and fears to offend him. He knows Gil Uraga to be +one whose hostility, once provoked, will stop short at nothing, leave no +means untried to take retribution--this of a terrible kind. Hence a +control which the colonel holds over him beyond that drawn from his +superior military rank. Hence, also, his receiving but a small share in +the proceeds of their various robberies, and his being satisfied with +this, or, at all events, seeming so. + +On his side, Uraga has several motives for not letting his subordinate +into the knowledge of all his complicated schemes; among them one +springing from a moral peculiarity. He is of a strangely-constituted +nature, secretive to the last degree--a quality or habit in which he +prides himself. It is his delight to practice it whenever the +opportunity offers; just as the thief and detective officer take +pleasure in their respective callings beyond the mere prize to be +derived from their exercise. + +The intelligence just received from the traitorous mule-driver, +unexpected as pleasing, has opened to him the prospect of a grand +success. It may enable him to strike a _coup_ covering all--alike +giving gratification to his love, as his hate. + +But the blow must needs be dealt deftly. There are circumstances to be +considered and precautions taken, not only to prevent its failing, but +secure against a publicity that might cause scandal to himself, to say +naught of consequent danger. + +And it must be struck soon--at once. It is too ticklish a matter to +admit of delay, either in the design or execution. + +Already has the matter flitted before his mind in its general outlines; +almost soon as receiving the report of the peon. + +It is only the details that remain for consideration; and these he +intends considering alone, without any aid from his adjutant. + +As time is an object, he speedily terminates his carousal with the +subaltern; who, dismissed, returns to the military _cuartel_. + +Soon as he is gone the colonel again seats himself, and lighting a fresh +cigar, continues smoking. For several minutes he remains silent, his +eyes turned upwards, and his features set in a smile. One might fancy +him but watching the smoke of his cigar as it rises in spiral wreaths to +the ceiling. He is occupied with no such innocent amusement. On the +contrary, his grim smile betokens meditation deep and devilish. He is +mentally working out a problem, a nefarious scheme, which will ere long +bear evil fruit. + +As the cigar grows shorter he seems to draw nearer to his conclusions. +And when at length there is only the stump between his teeth, he spits +it out; and, taking a hand-bell from the table, rings until a domestic +appears in the doorway in answer to the summons. + +"Call in the guard-corporal!" is the order received by the servant, who +withdraws without saying a word. + +Soon the soldier shows himself, saluting as he enters the door. + +"_Cabo_! Bring your prisoner before me." + +The corporal retires, and shortly after returns, having the Indian in +charge. He is commanded to leave the latter, and himself remain waiting +without. Directed also to close the door; which he does on getting +outside. + +Thus closeted with the peon--still wondering why he has been made a +prisoner--Uraga submits him to a process of examination, which elicits +from the scared creature everything he seeds to know. Among the rest, +he makes himself acquainted with the situation of the valley, where the +exiles have found temporary asylum; the direction, distance, and means +of access to it--in short, its complete topography. + +With all the Indian is familiar, can correctly describe it, and does so. +In that imposing presence he dare not attempt deception, even if +inclined. But he is not. Between questioner and questioned the aim and +end are similar, if not the same. Besides, the peon's blood has again +been warmed up, and his tongue set loose, by a fresh infusion of +aguardiente--so that his confessions are full as free. He tells about +the life led by the Mexican refugees, as also their American guests--all +he knows, and this is nearly everything. For trusted, unsuspected, he +has had every opportunity to learn. The only thing concealed by him is +his own love affair with Conchita and its disastrous ending, through the +intrusion of the Texan Ranger. + +This, if told, would give his listener slight concern, alongside the +grave impressions made upon him by another affair; some particulars of +which the peon communicates. These points refer to tender relations +existing between the young prairie trader and Adela Miranda, almost +proving their existence. Confirmed or not, on hearing of them Gil Uraga +receives a shock which sends the blood rushing in quick current through +his veins; while upon his countenance comes an expression of such bitter +malignity, that the traitor, in fear for his own safety, repents having +told him. + +But Uraga has no spite against him--no motive for having it. On the +contrary, he intends rewarding him, after he gets out of him certain +other services for which he is to be retained. + +When his cross-questioning is at length brought to a close, he is once +more committed to the charge of the guard-corporal, with orders to be +returned to the prison. At the same time a hint is given him that his +incarceration is only precautionary, with a promise it will not be for +long. + +Immediately after his removal, Uraga seats himself before an escritoire, +which stands on one side of the room. Laying open the lid, he spreads a +sheet of paper upon it, and commences to write what appears an epistle. + +Whatever it is, the composition occupies some considerable time. +Occasionally he stops using the pen, as though pondering what to put +down. + +When it is at length completed, apparently to his satisfaction, he folds +the sheet, thrusts a stick of wax into the flame of a candle, and seals +the document, but without using any seal-stamp. A small silver coin +taken from his pocket makes the necessary impression. There does not +appear to be any name appended to the epistle, if one it is; and the +superscription shows only two words, without any address. The words are +"El Barbato." + +Again ringing the bell, the same servant answers it. + +"Go to the stables," commands his master, "or the corral, or wherever he +may be, and tell Pedrillo I want him. Be quick about it!" + +The man bows and disappears. + +"It will take them--how many days to reach the Tenawas' town, and how +many back to the Pecos?" soliloquises Uraga, pacing the floor, as he +makes his calculations. "Three, four, five. No matter. If before them +we can wait till they come. Pedrillo!" + +Pedrillo has put in an appearance. He is an Indian of the tame sort, +not greatly differing from the man Manuel, with a countenance quite as +forbidding. But we have seen Pedrillo before; since he was one of the +two muleteers who conducted the _atajo_ transporting the spoil from the +caravan of the prairie traders. + +"Pedrillo," directs the Colonel, "catch a couple of the best roadsters +in the corral--one for yourself, the other for Jose. Have them saddled, +and get yourselves ready for a journey of two weeks, or so. Make all +haste with your preparations. When ready, come here, and report +yourself." + +The muleteer disappears, and Uraga continues to pace the floor, +apparently yet busied with a mental measurement of time and distance. +At intervals he stops before the portrait on the wall, and for a second +or two gazes at it. This seems to increase his impatience for the man's +reappearance. + +He has not a great while to wait. The scrip and staff of a New Mexican +traveller of Pedrillo's kind is of no great bulk or complexity. It +takes but a short time to prepare it. A few _tortillas_ and _frijoles_, +a head or two of _chile Colorado_, half a dozen onions, and a bunch of +_tasojo_--jerked beef. Having collected these comestibles, and filled +his _xuaje_, or water gourd, Pedrillo reports himself ready for the +road, or trail, or whatever sort of path, and on whatever errand, it may +please his master to despatch him. + +"You will go straight to the Tenawa town--Horned Lizard's--on the south +branch of the Goo-al-pah. You can find your way to the place, Pedrillo. +You've been there before?" + +The Indian nods an affirmative. + +"Take this." Here Uraga hands him the sealed paper. "See you show it +to no one you may chance to meet passing out from the settlements. Give +it to Barbato, or hand it to the Horned Lizard himself. He'll know who +it's for. You are to ride night and day, as fast as the animals can +carry you. When you've delivered it you needn't wait, but come back-- +not here, but to the Alamo. You know the place--where we met the +Tenawas some weeks ago. You will find me there. _Vaya_!" + +On receiving these instructions Pedrillo vanishes from, the room; a +strange sinister glance in his oblique Indian eyes telling that he knows +himself to be once more--what he has often been--an emissary of evil. + +Uraga takes another turn across the floor, then, seating himself by the +table, seeks rest for his passion-tossed soul by drinking deep of the +_mescal_ of Tequila. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. + +THE STAKED PLAIN. + +The elevated table-land known as Llano Estacado is in length over three +hundred miles, with an average width of sixty or seventy. It extends +longitudinally between the former Spanish provinces of New Mexico and +Texas; their respective capitals, Santa Fe and San Antonia de Bejar, +being on the opposite side of it. In the days of vice-royal rule, a +military road ran across it, connecting the two provincial centres, and +mule trains of traders passed to and fro between. As this road was only +a trail, often obliterated by the drifting sands of the desert, tall +stakes were set up at intervals to indicate the route. Hence the name +"Llano Estacado"--literally, Staked Plain. + +In those days Spain was a strong, enterprising nation, and her Mexican +colonists could travel over most parts of their vast territory without +fear of being assaulted by the savages. At a later period, when Spanish +power began to decline, all this became changed. Cities fell to ruin, +settlements were deserted, mission establishments abandoned, and in the +provinces of Northern Mexico white travellers had to be cautious in +keeping to the most frequented roads, in some districts not daring even +to venture beyond the walls of their haciendas or towns. Many of these +were fortified against Indian attack, and are so to this day. + +Under these circumstances the old Spanish trail across the Staked Plain +fell into disuse; its landmarks became lost, and of late years only +expeditions of the United States army have traversed it for purposes of +exploration. + +In physical aspect it bears resemblance to the table lands of Abyssinia +and Southern Arabia, and at its northern end many outlying spurs and +detached _mesas_ remind the traveller of the Abyssinian hills--known as +_ambas_. A portion of this singular territory belongs to the great +gypsum formation of the south-western prairies, perhaps the largest in +the world; while a highly-coloured sandstone of various vivid hues, +often ferruginous, forms a conspicuous feature in its cliffs. Along its +eastern edge these present to the lower champaign of Texas a precipitous +escarpment several hundred feet sheer, in long stretches, tending with +an unbroken facade, in other places showing ragged, where cleft by +canons, through which rush torrents, the heads of numerous Texan +streams. Its surface is, for the most part, a dead horizontal level, +sterile as the Sahara itself, in places smooth and hard as a macadamised +road. Towards its southern end there is a group of _medanos_ +(sandhills), covering a tract of several hundred square miles, the sand +ever drifting about, as with _dunes_ on the seashore. High up among +their summits is a lakelet of pure drinking water, though not a drop can +be found upon the plateau itself for scores of miles around. Sedge and +lilies grow by this tarn so singularly situated. + +Here and there the plain is indented by deep fissures (_barrancas_), +apparently the work of water. Often the traveller comes upon them +without sign or warning of their proximity, till, standing on the edge +of a precipitous escarpment, he sees yawning below a chasm sunk several +hundred feet into the earth. In its bed may be loose boulders piled in +chaotic confusion, as if cast there by the hands of Titans; also trunks +of trees in a fossilised state such as those observed by Darwin on the +eastern declivity of the Chilian Andres. + +Nearly all the streams that head in the Staked Plain cut deep channels +in their way to the outer world. These are often impassable, either +transversely or along their course. Sometimes, however, their beds are +worn out into little valleys, or "coves," in which a luxuriant +vegetation finds shelter and congenial soil. There flourish the pecan, +the hackberry, the black walnut, the wild china, with evergreen oaks, +plums, and clustering grapevines; while in the sterile plain above are +only seen those forms of the botanical world that truly indicate the +desert--various species of cactaceae, agaves, and yuccas--the palmilla +and lechuguilla, dwarf-cedars, and mezquites, artemisia, and the +strong-smelling larrea, or "creosote plant." + +Animals are rare upon the Llano Estacado, although the prong-horn +antelope--true denizen of the desert--is there found, as also its enemy, +the Mexican jackal, or coyote. To the rattlesnake and horned lizard +(_agama_) it is a congenial home; and the singular snake-bird +(_paisano_) may frequently be seen running over the arid waste, or +skulking through the tortuous stems of the nopals. In the canons of the +stream the grizzly bear makes his haunt, and in times not long gone by +it was ascended and traversed by the unwieldy buffalo. The wild horse +(_musteno_) still occasionally courses across it. + +Of all the living things it is least frequented by man. Even the Indian +rarely strays into its solitudes; and the white man, when necessitated +to enter them, does so with fear and trembling, for he knows there is +danger. + +This is chiefly due to the absence of water; but there is also the +chance of going astray--getting lost in the absence of landmarks. To be +astray in a wilderness of any kind is a perilous predicament for the +traveller--in one without water it is death. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +After their affair with the Tenawas, the Texan Rangers directed their +course towards the Llano Estacado. On starting, it was their intention +to strike north, and get upon the main stream of the Canadian, then +follow it up to the place where the prairie traders met their murderous +doom. From the country of the Tenawa Comanches this would be the +correct route, and was the same taken by these freebooters returning +with the spoils of the caravan. But from the mouth of the Pecan Creek +is one more direct, leading across a spur of the plateau itself, instead +of turning its north-eastern extremity. + +It was not known to the Rangers, though Cully remembered having heard +something about it. But the Mexican renegade declared himself familiar +with, and counselled taking it. There had been hesitation before +acceding to his counsel. Of course, they could have no confidence in +such a man, but rather suspicion of all he said or did. In guiding them +across the Staked Plain he might have some sinister purpose--perhaps +lead them into a trap. + +After all, how could he? The tribe of savages with which he had been +consorting was now so terribly chastised, so effectually crushed, it was +not probable--scarce possible--they would be encountered again. +Certainly not for a season. For weeks there would be weeping and +wailing in the tents of the Tenawas. If the renegade had any hope of +being rescued from his present captivity, it could not be by them. He +might have some thought of escape, taking the Rangers by the route he +proposed to them. On this score they had no apprehension--not the +slightest. Suspicious, they would keep close watch upon him; shoot him +down like a dog at the first sign of his attempting to deceive them. +And, as Cully remembered having heard of this trail over the Staked +Plain, it was most probable the Mexican had no other object than to +bring them to the end of their journey in the shortest time and +straightest course. All knew it would be a near cut, and this decided +them in its favour. + +After parting from Pecan Creek, with their faces set westward, they had +a journey before them anything but easy or pleasant. On the contrary, +one of the most difficult and irksome. For it lay across a sterile +tract--the great gypsum bed of North-western Texas, on which abut the +bluffs of the Llano Estacado. Mile after mile, league after league; no +"land in sight," to use a prairie-man's phrase--nothing but level plain, +smooth as a sleeping sea; but, unlike the last, without water--not a +sheet to cheer their eyes, not a drop to quench the thirst, almost +choking them. Only its resemblance, seen in the white mist always +moving over these arid plains--the deluding, tantalising mirage. Lakes +lay before them, their shores garlanded by green trees, their bosoms +enamelled with islets smiling in all the verdure of spring--always +before them, ever receding; the trees, as the water, never to be +reached! + +Water they do arrive at more than once--streams rushing in full flow +across the barren waste. At sight they ride towards them rapidly. +Their horses need not to be spurred. The animals suffer as themselves, +and rush on with outstretched necks, eager to assuage their thirst. +They dip their muzzles, plunge in their heads till half-buried, only to +draw out again and toss them aloft with snorts of disappointment shaking +the water like spray from their nostrils. It is salt! + +For days they have been thus journeying. They are wearied, worn down by +fatigue, hungry; but more than all, tortured by the terrible thirst-- +their horses as themselves. The animals have become reduced in flesh +and strength; they look like skeletons staggering on, scarce able to +carry their riders. + +Where is the Mexican conducting them? He has brought them into a +desert. Is the journey to end in their death? It looks like enough. + +Some counsel killing him, and returning on their tracks. Not all; only +a minority. The majority cry "Onward!" with a thought beyond present +suffering. They must find the bones of Walt Wilder and bury them! +Brave men, true men, these Texan Rangers! Rough in outward appearance, +often rude in behaviour, they have hearts gentle as children. Of all +friends the most faithful, whether it be affection or pure +_camaraderie_. In this case a comrade has been killed--cruelly +murdered, and in a strange manner. Its very strangeness has maddened +them the more, while sharpening their desire to have a last look at his +remains, and give them Christian burial. Only the fainthearted talk of +retreating; the others do not think of it, and these are more than the +majority. + +On, therefore, they ride across treeless, grassless tracks; along the +banks of streams, of whose bitter, saline waters they cannot drink, but +tantalising themselves and their animals. On, on! + +Their perseverance is at length rewarded. Before their eyes looms up a +line of elevated land, apparently the profile of a mountain. + +But no; it cannot be that. + +Trending horizontally, without curvature, against the sky, they know it +is not a mountain, but a mesa--a table-land. + +It is the Llano Estacado. + +Drawing nearer, they get under the shadow of its beetling bluffs. + +They see that these are rugged, with promontories projecting far out +over the plain, forming what Spanish Americans, in their expressive +phraseology, call _ceja_. + +Into an embayment between two of the out-stretching spurs Barbato +conducts them. + +Joyously they ride into it, like ships long storm-tossed entering a +haven of safety; for at the inner end of the concavity there is a cleft +in the precipitous wall, reaching from base to summit, out of which +issues a stream whose waters are sweet! + +It is a branch of the Brazos River, along whose banks they have been +some time travelling, lower down finding its waters bitter as gall. +That was in its course through the selenite. Now they have reached the +sandstone it is clear as crystal, and to them sweeter than champagne. + +"Up it lies our way," says the renegade guide, pointing to the portals +of the canon through which the stream debouched from the table to the +lower plain. + +But for that night the Rangers care hot to travel further. There is no +call for haste. They are _en route_ to bury the bones of a dead man, +not to rescue one still living. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY SIX. + +A BRILLIANT BAND. + +Just as the Texan Rangers are approaching the Staked Plain on its +eastern edge, another body of horsemen, about their equal in number, +ascends to the same plateau, coming from the very opposite direction-- +the west. + +Only in point of numbers, and that both are on horseback, is there any +similitude between the two troops. Individually they are unlike as +human beings could be; for most of those composing the Texan party are +great, strapping fellows, fair-haired, and of bright complexions; +whereas they coming in the counter direction are all, or nearly all, +small men, with black hair and sallow visage--many of them dark as +Indians. Between the horses of the two troops there is a proportionate +disparity in size; the Texans bestriding animals of nearly sixteen hands +in height, while they approaching from the west are mounted on Mexican +mustangs, few over fourteen. One alone at their head, evidently their +leader, rides a large American horse. In point of discipline the second +troop shows superiority. It is a military organisation _pur sang_, and +marches in regular formation, while the men composing it are armed and +uniformed alike. Their uniform is that of Mexican lancers, very similar +to the French, their arms the same. And just such are they; the lancers +of Colonel Uraga, himself at their head. + +Having crossed the Rio Pecos bottom, and climbed up the bluffs to the +higher bench of the Llano Estacado, they strike out over the sterile +plain. + +As it is early morning, and the air is chilly, they wear their ample +cavalry cloaks of bright yellow cloth. These falling back over the +flanks of their horses, with their square lancer caps, plumed, and +overtopped by the points of the pennoned lances, give them an imposing +martial appearance. Though it is but a detachment of not over fifty +men--a single troop--riding by twos, the files stretch afar in shining +array, its sheen all the more brilliant from contrast with the sombre +sterility of the desert. + +A warlike sight, and worthy of admiration, if one knew it to be an +expedition directed against the red pirates of the plains, _en route_ to +chastise them for their many crimes--a long list of cruel atrocities +committed upon the defenceless citizens of Chihuahua and New Mexico. +But knowing it is not this--cognisant of its true purpose--the +impression made is altogether different. Instead of admiration it is +disgust; and, in place of sending up a prayer for its success, the +spectator would feel apprehension, or earnestly desire its failure. + +Its purpose is anything but praiseworthy. On the contrary, sinister, as +may be learnt by listening to the conversation of the two who ride at +the head of the detachment, some paces in advance of the first file. +They are its chief and his confidential second, the ruffian Roblez. + +Uraga is speaking. + +"Won't our worthy friend Miranda be surprised when he sees us riding up +to the door of his _jacal_, with these fifty fellows behind us? And the +old doctor, Don Prospero? I can fancy his quizzical look through those +great goggle spectacles he used to wear. I suppose they are still on +his nose; but they'll fly off as soon as he sees the pennons of our +lances." + +"Ha! ha! ha! That will be a comical sight, colonel. But do you think +Miranda will make any resistance?" + +"Not likely. I only wish he would." + +"Why do you wish that?" + +"_Ayadante_! you ask a stupid question. You ought to have a clearer +comprehension in the brisk, bright atmosphere of this upland plain. It +should make your brain more active." + +"Well, _Coronel mio_, you're the first man I ever saw on the way to make +a prisoner who desired to meet resistance. _Carrambia_! I can't +understand that." + +"I don't desire to make any prisoner--at least, not Don Valerian +Miranda. For the old doctor, I shan't much care one way or the other. +Living or dead, he can't do any great harm. Miranda I'd rather take +dead." + +"Ah! now I think I comprehend you." + +"If he show the slightest resistance--raise but a hand--I shall have him +that way." + +"Why can't you anyhow? Surely you can deal with him as you think +proper--a refugee, a rebel?" + +"There you again show your want of sense. You've got a thick skull, +_teniente_; and would be a bad counsellor in any case requiring skilful +management. This is one of the kind, and needs the most delicate +manipulation." + +"How so?" + +"For several reasons. Remember, Roblez, we're not now acting with the +Horned Lizard and his painted freebooters. Our fellows here have eyes +in their heads, and tongues behind their teeth. They might wag the +latter to our disadvantage if we allowed the former to see anything not +exactly on the square. And if we were to shoot or cut down Miranda, he +not resisting, that would be a scandal I might have difficulty in +suppressing. It would spread surely, go over the country, get to the +ears of the Central Government, and return to New Mexico with a weight +that might overwhelm me. Besides, _amigo mio_, it would spoil my plan +in several respects--notably, that with the nina and others too numerous +to mention. Of course, we'll kill him if we can, with fair pretext for +doing so. But unless he show fight, we must take him alive, his guests +along with him. I hope he will." + +"I think it likely you'll have your hopes. The two Americanos are not +men to submit tamely. Remember how they fought at the attack on their +waggon-train, and how they got off afterwards. They're a rough couple, +and likely to give us anything but a smooth reception." + +"The rougher the better. That would be just as wanted, and we'll settle +everything at once. If otherwise, I have my plan fixed and complete." + +"What is it, colonel?" + +"Not now. I'll tell you in the proper time. First to make experiment +of what's immediately before us. If it succeed, we shall return this +way with only women as our prisoners. If it fail, we'll have men--four +of them. A word in your ear to content you for the while. Not one of +the four will ever enter the prison of Albuquerque." + +"You intend sending them to some other?" + +"I do." + +"Where?" + +"A gaol from which there can be no escape--need I name it?" + +"You need not. There's but one will answer your description--the +grave." + +With this solemn conjecture the _sotto voce_ conversation comes to a +close, the ruffians riding at the head of their troop, far extending +after, its files resembling the vertebrae of some grand glittering +serpent on its way to seize a victim, the two in front fair types of its +protruding poisonous fangs. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. + +A COMING CLOUD. + +Between lovers, those who truly love, the parting is ever painful Frank +Hamersley, taking leave of Adela Miranda, feels this as does Walt Wilder +separating from Conchita. + +There may be a difference in degree, in the intensity of their +respective passions; perhaps also something in its character. Still the +sentiment is the same. Both suffer at the thought of separation, feel +it keenly. All the more as they reflect on what is before them--a +prospect anything but cheerful. Clouds in the sky; many chances they +may never see their loved ones again. No wonder they turn towards the +Del Norte with gloom in their glances and dark forebodings in their +breasts. Men of less loyal hearts, less prone to the promptings of +humanity, would trifle and stay; spend longer time in a dalliance so +surely agreeable, so truly delightful. Not so the young Kentuckian and +his older companion, the Texan. Though the love of woman is enthroned +in their hearts, each has kept a corner sacred to a sentiment almost as +strong, and perhaps purer. The blood of their slaughtered comrades +cries from the ground, from the sand through which they saw it filtering +away. They cannot find peace without responding to its appeal; and for +this even the fruition of their love is to be delayed. To seek +retribution they must journey on to the settlements of the Del Norte; +not sure of success on arrival there, but more likely to meet failure-- +perhaps imprisonment. In this there would be nothing new or strange. +They would not be the first Americans to suffer incarceration without +cause in a New Mexican _calabozo_, and lie there for long years without +trial. + +Once more Miranda represents the danger they are about to undergo. It +does not daunt them. + +"No matter," is the reckless response. "Whatever be the consequences, +go we will. We must." + +Thus determined to start off, after exchanging tender adieus with those +left behind--two of them in tears. + +According to promise, Miranda has placed his mules at their disposal, +and on these they are mounted. He has, moreover, furnished them with +spare dresses from his wardrobe--costumes of his native country, which +will enable them to travel through it without attracting attention. + +Starting at sunrise, it is still early morning when they reach the upper +plain through the ravine between the two twin mountains. So far Colonel +Miranda accompanies them, as also Don Prospero. There parting, the +refugees return to the ranche, while the travellers strike out over the +treeless waste, which spreads before their faces to the very verge of +vision. + +They have no landmark to guide them, neither rock nor tree; but the sky +is without a cloud, and there is a sun in it gleaming like a globe of +fire. To the experienced prairie man this is sufficient for telling +every point of the compass, and they but want one. Their course is due +west till they strike the Pecos; then along its bank to the crossing, +thence west again through the Sierras, and on to Santa Fe. + +Keeping the sun slightly on the left shoulder, they journey till near +noon, when a dark object, seen a little to the right, attracts them. +Not to surprise, for they well know what it is--a grove. They can tell, +too, that the trees composing it are oaks, of the species known as +black-jack. Notwithstanding their stunted growth, the black-jacks are +umbrageous, and give good shade. Though the sun has not yet reached +meridian, its rays are of meridian heat, and strike down with fiery +fervour on the surface of the parched plain. + +This determines them to seek the shelter of the grove, and there make +their noontide halt. It is a little but of their way; but, far as they +can see ahead, no other spot offers a chance of protection against the +burning beams. + +The grove is a mere copse, covering scarce half an acre, and the topmost +branches rise but a few feet above their heads. Still is there shade, +both for them and their animals; and cover, should they require to +conceal themselves--the last a fortunate circumstance, as is soon +proved. Equally fortunate their not having need to kindle a fire. In +their haversacks they carry provisions already cooked. + +Dismounting, they lead their males in among the trees, and there make +them secure by looping the bridles to a branch. Then, laying themselves +along the earth, they eat their midday meal, pull out their pipes, and +follow it with a smoke. + +With little thought, they are burning the last bit of tobacco which +remained to the refugees. At parting, their generous host, to comfort +them on their journey, presented them with the ultimate ounce of his +stock; with true Spanish politeness saying nothing of this. + +As they lie watching the blue film curling up among the branches of the +black-jacks, as little do they reflect how fortunate for them it is not +the smoke of a fire, nor visible at any great distance. Were it so, +there would not be much likelihood of their ever reaching the Del Norte +or leaving the Llano Estacado alive. + +Not dreaming of danger in that desolate place--at least none caused by +human kind--they remain tranquilly pulling at their pipes, now +conversing of the past, anon speculating about their plans for the +future. + +Three or four hours elapse; the sun having crossed the meridian, begins +to stoop lower. Its rays fall less fervently, and they think of +continuing their journey. They have "unhitched" the mules, led them out +to the edge of the copse, and are standing by the stirrup, ready to +remount, when an object catches the quick eye of the ex-Ranger, causing +him to utter a sharp ejaculation. + +Something seen west, the way they want to go. + +Pointing it out to Hamersley, the two stand observing. No great +scrutiny needed to tell them 'tis a cloud of dust, although in breadth +not bigger than a blanket. But while they are regarding it it gradually +spreads out, at the same time showing higher above the surface of the +plain. + +It may be a swirl of the wind acting on the dry sand of the desert--the +first commencement of a regular whirlwind--a thing common on the table +lands of New Mexico. But it has not the round pillar-like form of the +_molino_, nor do they believe it to be one. Both are too well +acquainted with this phenomenon to be deceived by its counterfeit. + +If they had any doubts, as they stand gazing these are resolved. The +cloud presents a dense dark head, with a nucleus of something more solid +than dust. And while guessing at the true character of this opaque +central part, a circumstance occurs disclosing it. A puff of wind +striking the dust causes it to swirl sideways, showing underneath a body +of mounted men. Men, too, in military array, marching in double file, +armed, uniformed, with lances borne erect, their blades glinting in the +sun. + +"Sogers!" exclaims the ex-Ranger. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. + +DREAD CONJECTURES. + +It is Wilder who so emphatically proclaims the character of the +cavalcade. He has no need, Hamersley having already made it out +himself. + +"Yes; they are soldiers," he rejoins, mechanically, adding, "Mexican, as +a matter of course. None of our troops ever stray this fair west. 'Tis +out of United States territory. The Texans claim it. But those are not +Texans: they are uniformed, and carry lances. Your old friends, the +Rangers, don't affect that sort of thing." + +"No," responds Wilder, with a contemptuous toss of the head, "I shedn't +think they did. We niver tuk to them long sticks; 'bout as much use as +bean-poles. In coorse they're Mexikins, _lanzeeros_." + +"What can they be doing out here? There are no Indians on the Staked +Plain. If there were, such a small party as that, taking it to be +Mexican, would not be likely to venture after them." + +"Maybe it's only a advance guard, and thar's a bigger body behint. We +shell soon see, as they're ridin' deerect this way. By the 'Tarnal, +'twon't do to let 'em sight us; leastwise, not till we've seen more o' +them, an' know what sort they air. White men tho' they call themselves, +I'd a'most as soon meet Injuns. They'd be sure to take us for Texans; +and 'bout me there'd be no mistake in that. But they'd treet you the +same, an' thar treetment ain't like to be civil. Pull yur mule well +back among the bushes. Let's blind the brutes, or they may take it into +their heads to squeal." + +The hybrids are led back into the grove, tied, and _zapadoed_--the last +operation performed by passing a blanket, mask fashion, over their eyes. +This done, the two men return to the edge of the copse, keeping +themselves screened behind the outstanding trees. + +In their absence the moving cohort has drawn nearer, and still advances. +But slowly, and, as when first sighted, enveloped in a cloud of dust. +Only now and then, as the wind wafts this aside, can be distinguished +the forms of the individuals composing it. Then but for an instant, the +dust again drifting around them. + +Still the _nimbus_ draws nigher, and is gradually approaching the spot +where the travellers had concealed themselves. + +At first only surprised at seeing soldiers on the Staked Plain, they +soon become seriously alarmed. The troop is advancing towards the +black-jack grove, apparently intending it for a place of bivouac; if so, +there will be no chance for them to escape observation. The soldiers +will scatter about, and penetrate every part of the copse. Equally idle +to attempt flight on their slow-footed animals, pursued by over two +score of cavalry horses. + +They can see no alternative but surrender, submit to be made prisoners, +and receive such treatment as their captors may think fit to extend to +them. + +While thus despairingly reflecting, they take note of something that +restores their disturbed equanimity. It is the direction in which the +Mexicans are marching. The cloud moving in slow, stately progress does +not approach any nearer to the copse. Evidently the horsemen do not +design halting there, but will ride past, leaving it on their left. + +They are, in truth, passing along the same path from which the +travellers have late deflected; only in the counter direction. + +Now, for the first time, a suspicion occurs to Hamersley, shared by the +Texan, giving both far greater uneasiness than if the soldiers were +heading direct towards them. + +It is further intensified as a fresh spurt of the desert wind sweeps the +dust away, displaying in clear light the line of marching horsemen. No +question as to their character now. There they are, with their +square-peaked corded caps, and plumes of horsehair; their pennoned +spears sloped over their shoulders; their yellow cloaks folded and +strapped over the cantles of their saddles; sabres lying along thighs, +clinking against spurs and stirrups--all the picturesque panoply of +lancers. + +It is not this that strikes dismay into the minds of those who are +spectators, for it is now struck into their heart of hearts. On one +figure of the cavalcade the eyes of both become fixed; he who rides at +its head. + +Their attention had been first attracted to his horse, Wilder gasping +out, soon as he set eyes on the animal, "Look yonner, Frank!" + +"At what?" + +"The fellur ridin' foremost. D'ye see the anymal he's on? It's the +same we war obleeged to abandon on takin' to the rocks." + +"By heavens! my horse!" + +"Yurs, to a sartinty." + +"And his rider! The man I fought with at Chihuahua, the ruffian Uraga!" + +On recognising his antagonist in the duel, the Kentuckian gives out a +groan. The Texan, too. For on both the truth flashes in all its +fulness--all its terrible reality. + +It is not the possession of Hamersley's horse, identifying its rider +with the destroyers of the caravan. That is nothing new, and scarce +surprises them. What pains--agonises them--is the direction in which +the soldiers are proceeding. + +They can have no doubt as to the purpose of the military march, or the +point to which it is tending. + +"Yes," says Walt, "they're strikin' straight fur the valley, goin' +'ithout guess-work, too. Thar's a guide along, an' thar's been a +treetur." + +"Who do you think?" + +"That Injun, Manoel. Ye remember he went on a errand 'bout a week ago, +to fetch them some things that war needed. Instead, he's made diskivery +o' the hidin' place o' his master, and sold that master's head. That's +what he's did, sure." + +"It is," mutters Hamersley, in a tone that tells of affliction too deep +for speech. Before his mind is a fearful forecast. Don Valerian a +prisoner to Uraga and his ruffians--Don Prospero, too; both to be +dragged back to Albuquerque and cast into a military prison. Perhaps +worse still--tried by court-martial soon as captured, and shot as soon +as tried. Nor is this the direst of his previsions. There is one +darker--Adela in the company of a ribald crew, surrounded by the brutal +soldiery, powerless, unprotected--she his own dear one, now his +betrothed! Overcome by his emotions he remains for some time silent, +scarce heeding the remarks of his comrade. One, however, restores his +attention. + +"I tolt ye so," says Walt. "See! yonner's the skunk himself astride o' +a mule at the tail o' the gang." + +Hamersley directs his eyes to the rear of the outstretched rank. There, +sure enough, is a man on muleback, dressed differently from the +troopers. The coarse woollen tilma, and straw hat, he remembers as +having been worn by one of Mirander's male domestics. He does not +identify the man. But Walt's recollection of his rival is clearer, and +he has no doubt that he on the mule is Manuel. Nor, for that matter, +has Hamersley. The peon's presence is something to assist in the +explanation. It clears up everything. + +Hamersley breathes hard as the dark shadows sweep through his soul. For +a long time absorbed in thought, he utters scarce an ejaculation. Only +after the lancer troop has passed, its rearmost files just clearing the +alignment of the copse, he gasps out, in a voice husky as that of one in +the act of being strangled,-- + +"They're going straight for the place. O God!" + +"Yes," rejoins the ex-Ranger, in a tone like despondent, "Thar boun' +thar for sartint. The darned creetur's been tempted by the blood-money +set on Kumel Miranda's head, an' air too like to git it. They'll grup +him, sure; an's like as not gie him the garota. Poor gentleman! He air +the noblest Mexikin I iver sot eyes on, an' desarves a better fate. As +for the ole doc, he may get off arter sarvin' a spell in prison, an' the +saynorita--" + +A groan from Hamersley interrupts the remark. His comrade, perceiving +how much he is pained, modifies what he meant to say. + +"Thar's no need to be so much afeard o' what may happen to her. She +ain't goin' to be rubbed out, anyhow; an' if she hasn't no brother to +purtect her, I reckon she's got a frien' in you, Frank. An' hyar's +another o' the same, as they say in the Psalms o' Davit." + +Walt's words have a hopeful sound. Hamersley is cheered by them, but +replies not. He only presses the hand of his comrade in silent and +grateful grasp. + +"Yis," continues the ex-Ranger with increased emphasis, "I'd lay down my +life to save that young lady from harum, as I know you'd lay down yourn. +An' thet air to say nothin' o' my own gurl. This chile ain't niver +been much guv to runnin' arter white wheemen, an' war gen'rally content +to put up wi' a squaw. But sech as them! As for yourn, I don't wonder +yur heart beats like a chased rabbit's; myen air doin' the same for +Concheeter. Wal, niver fear! Ef thar's a hair o' eyther o' thar heads +teched, you'll hear the crack o' Walt Wilder's rifle, and see its bullet +go into the breast o' him as harms 'em. I don't care who or what he +air, or whar he be. Nor I don't care a durn--not the valley of a dried +buffler-chip--what may come arter--hangin', garrotin', or shootin'. At +all risks, them two sweet creeturs air bound to be protected from harum; +an ef it comes, they shall be reevenged. I swar that, by the Eturnal!" + +"I join you in the oath," pronounces Hamersley, with emphatic fervour, +once more exchanging a hand-squeeze with his companion. "Yes, Walt; the +brave Miranda may be sacrificed--I fear it must be so. But for his +sister, there is still a hope that we may save her; and surely heaven +will help us. If not, I shall be ready to die. Ah! death would be +easier to bear than the loss of Adela!" + +"An' for this chile the same, rayther than he shed lose Concheeter." + + + +CHAPTER FORTY NINE. + +A CAUTIOUS COMMANDER. + +No need saying that the cavalcade seen passing the copse is the lancer +troop of Colonel Uraga. + +Some thirty hours before, they ascended to the Staked Plain, and are now +nearly across it. Guided by the traitor, they had no need to grope +their way, and have made quick time. In a few hours more they will +pounce upon the prey for which they have swooped so far. + +The two men concealed in the grove expect them to ride on without +stopping, till out of sight. Instead, they see them draw up at a few +miles distance, though all remain mounted. Two separate from the rest +keep on a couple of hundred yards ahead, then also halt. + +These are Uraga himself, with his adjutant Roblez. + +'Tis only a temporary pause to exchange counsel about the plan of +proceeding--as a falcon expands itself in the air before its last flight +towards the quarry it has selected. + +Before separating from his followers, Uraga has summoned to his side the +youngest commissioned officer of the troop, saying,-- + +"Alferes! go back to that Indian! Send the brute on to the front here." + +Manuel is the individual thus coarsely indicated. + +Told that he is wanted, the peon spurs his mule forward, and places +himself by the side of the commanding officer, who has meanwhile +dismounted. + +In the countenance of the Indian there is an expression of conscious +guilt, such as may appear in that of one not hardened by habitual crime. +There is even something like compunction for what he is about to do, +with remorse for what he has already done. Now that he is drawing near +the scene, where those betrayed by him must suffer, his reflections are +anything but pleasant. Rather are they tinged with regret. Don +Valerian Miranda has been an indulgent master to him, and the Dona Adela +a kind mistress. On both he is bringing destruction. + +And what is to be his reward? From the time of his betraying them, the +moment he parted with the secret of their hiding-place, he has lost +control of it. + +He is no longer treated with the slightest respect. On the contrary, he +to whom he communicated it behaves to him as conqueror to conquered, +master to slave, forcing him forward with sword pointed at his breast, +or pistol aimed at his head. + +If a guide, he is no longer looked upon as a voluntary one. Nor would +he be this, but for a thought that inspires, while keeping him true to +his treasonous intent. When he thinks of Conchita--of that scene in the +cotton-wood grove--of the Texan kissing her--holding her in his fond +embrace--when the Indian recalls all this, torturing his soul afresh, +then no more remorse, not a spark of regret, not a ray of repentance! + +No; perish the dueno--the duena too! Let die the good doctor, if need +be--all whom his vengeance has devoted! + +"Sirrah! are those the two peaks you spoke of?" + +It is Uraga who puts this interrogatory, pointing to a pair of twin +summits seen rising above the horizon to eastward. + +"_Si Senor Coronel_; they are the same." + +"And you say the path leads down between them?" + +"Goes down through a gulch, after keeping round the cliff." + +"And there's no other by which the valley may be entered?" + +"Your excellency, I did not say that. There is another entrance, but +not from the upper plain here. A stream runs through, and cuts it way +out beyond. Following its channel through the _canon_, the place can be +reached from below; but not after it's been raining. Then the flood +fills its bed, and there's no path along the edge. As it hasn't rained +lately, the banks will be above water." + +"And anyone could pass out below?" + +"They could, Senor Coronel." + +"We require to observe caution, Roblez," says Uraga, addressing himself +to the adjutant; "else we may have made our long journey for nothing. +'Twill never do to enter the cage and find the birds flown. How far is +it to the point where the river runs below?" + +The question is put to the peon. + +"_Cinco leguas, Senor_; not less. It's a long way to get round, after +going down the cliff." + +"Five leagues there, and five back up the canon of the stream--quite a +day's journey. If we send a detachment round 'twill take all of that. +Shall we do it?" + +"I don't think there's the slightest need for wasting so much time," +counsels the adjutant. + +"But the Indian says any one going down the defile between those hills +can be seen from the house. Supposing they should see us, and retreat +by the opening below?" + +"No need to let them see us. We can stay above till night, then descend +in the darkness. As they're not likely to be expecting visitors, there +should be no great difficulty in approaching this grand mansion +unannounced. Let us make our call after the hour of midnight, when, +doubtless, the fair Adela will be dreaming of--" + +"Enough!" exclaims Uraga, a cloud suddenly coming over his countenance, +as if the words of his subordinate recalled some unpleasant souvenir. +"We shall do as you say, _ayadante_. Give orders for the men to +dismount. We shall halt here till sunset. Meanwhile, see that this +copper-skin is closely kept. To make safe, you may as well clap the +manacles on him." + +In obedience, Roblez takes the Indian back to the halted troop, directs +him to be shackled; then gives the order for dismounting. + +But not for a night camp, only for a temporary bivouac; and this without +fires, or even unsaddling of the horses. The troopers are to stay by +the stirrup, ready at any moment to remount. + +There stay they; no longer in formation, but, as commanded, silent and +motionless; only such stir as is made by snatching a morsel from their +haversacks or smoking their corn-husk cigarritos. + +Thus till near sundown, when, remounting, they move on. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY. + +STALKING THE STALKER! + +The spot upon which the lancer troop had halted was less than a league +from the grove that gave shelter to the two Americans. In the +translucent atmosphere of the tableland it looked scarce a mile. The +individual forms of troopers could be distinguished, and the two who had +taken themselves apart. The taller of these was easily identified as +the commanding officer of the troop. + +"If they'd only keep thar till arter sundown," mutters Wilder, +"especially him on yur hoss, I ked settle the hul bizness. This hyar +gun the doc presented to me air 'bout as good a shootin'-iron as I'd +care to shet my claws on, an 'most equal to my own ole rifle. I've gin +it all sorts o' trials, tharfor I know it's good for plum center at a +hundred an' fifty paces. Ef yonner two squattin' out from the rest 'ill +jest stay thur till the shades o' night gie me a chance o' stealin' +clost enuf, thar's one o' 'em will never see daylight again." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Hamersley, with a sigh of despair, and yet half hopeful, +"if they would but remain there till night, we might still head them +into the valley, time enough to get our friends away." + +"Don't you have any sech hopes, Frank; thar's no chance o' that I kin +see what the party air arter. They've made up thar mind not to 'tempt +goin' inter the gully till they hev a trifle o' shadder aroun' them. +They think that ef they're seen afore they git up to the house their +victims might 'scape 'em. Tharfor they purpiss approachin' the shanty +unobserved, and makin' a surround o' it. That's thar game. Cunnin' o' +them, too, for Mexikins." + +"Yes, that is what they intend doing--no doubt of it. Oh, heavens! only +to think we are so near, and yet cannot give Miranda a word of warning!" + +"Can't be helped. We must put our trust in Him as hes an eye on all o' +us--same over these desert purairas an' mountains as whar people are +livin' in large cities. Sartin we must trust to Him an' let things +slide a bit, jest as He may direct 'em. To go out of our kiver now 'ud +be the same as steppin' inter the heart o' a forest fire. Them sogers +air mounted on swift horses, an' 'ud ketch up wi these slow critturs o' +mules in the shakin' o' goat's tail. Thurfor, let's lie by till night. +Tain't fur off now. Then, ef we see any chance to steal down inter the +valley, we'll take edvantage o' it." + +Hamersley can make no objection to the plan proposed. He sees no +alternative but accede to it. So they remain watching the halted troop, +regarding every movement with keen scrutiny. + +For several hours are they thus occupied, until the sun begins to throw +elongated shadows over the plain. Within half an hour of its setting +the Mexicans again mount their horses and move onwards. + +"Jest as I supposed they'd do," said Walt. "Thar's still all o' ten +miles atween them and the place. They've mezyured the time it'll take +'em to git thur--an hour or so arter sundown. Thar ain't the shadder o' +a chance for us to steal ahead o' 'em. We must stay in this kiver till +they're clar out o' sight." + +And they do stay in it until the receding horsemen, who present the +appearance of giants under the magnifying twilight mist, gradually grow +less, and at length fade from view under the thickening darkness. + +Not another moment do Hamersley and the hunter remain within the grove, +but springing to their saddles, push on after the troop. + +Night soon descending, with scarce ten minutes of twilight, covers the +plain with a complete obscurity, as if a shroud of crape had been +suddenly thrown over it. + +There is no moon, not even stars, in the sky; and the twin _buttes_, +that form the portals of the pass, are no longer discerned. + +But the ex-Ranger needs neither moon, nor stars, nor mountain peaks to +guide him for such a short distance. Taking his bearings before +starting from the black-jack copse, he rides on in a course straight as +the direction of a bullet from his own rifle, until the two mounds loom +up, their silhouettes seen against the leaden sky. + +"We mustn't go any furrer, Frank," he says, suddenly pulling up his +mule; "leastwise, not a-straddle o' these hyar conspikerous critters. +Whether the sogers hev goed down inter the valley or no, they're sartin +to hev left some o' the party ahind, by way o' keepin' century. Let's +picket the animals out hyar, an' creep forrad afut. That'll gie us a +chance o' seeing in, 'ithout bein' seen." + +The mules being disposed of as Walt had suggested, the two continue +their advance. + +First walking erect, then in bent attitude, then crouching still lower, +then as quadrupeds on all-fours, and at length, crawling like reptiles, +they make their approach to the pass that leads down into the valley. + +They do not enter it; they dare not. Before getting within the gape of +its gloomy portals they hear voices issuing therefrom. They can see +tiny sparks of fire glowing at the lips of ignited cigars. From this +they can tell that there are sentries there--a line of them across the +ravine, guarding it from side to side. + +"It ain't no use tryin', Frank," whispers Wilder; "ne'er a chance o' our +settin' through. They're stannin' thick all over the ground. I kin see +by thar seegars. Don't ye hear them palaverin? A black snake kedn't +crawl through among 'em 'ithout bein' obsarved." + +"What are we to do?" asks Hamersley, in a despairing tone. + +"We kin do nothin' now, 'ceptin' go back an' git our mules. We must +move them out o' the way afore sun-up. 'Taint no matter o' use our +squattin' hyar. No doubt o' what's been done. The main body's goed +below; them we see's only a party left to guard the gap. Guess it's all +over wi' the poor critters in the cabin, or will be afore we kin do +anythin' to help 'em. Ef they ain't kilt, they're captered by this +time." + +Hamersley can scarce restrain himself from uttering an audible groan. +Only the evident danger keeps him silent. + +"I say agin, Frank, 'tair no use our stayin' hyar. Anythin' we kin do +must be did elsewhar. Let's go back for our mules, fetch 'em away, an' +see ef we kin clomb up one o' these hyar hills. Thar's a good skirtin' +o' kiver on thar tops. Ef the anymals can't be tuk up, we kin leave +them in some gulch, an' go on to the summut ourselves. Thar we may +command a view o' all that passes. The sogers'll be sartin to kum past +in the mornin', bringin' thar prisoners. Then we'll see who's along wi' +'em, and kin foller thar trail." + +"Walt, I'm willing to do as you direct. I feel as if I'd lost all hope, +and could give way to downright despair." + +"Deespair be durned! Thar's allers a hope while thar's a bit o' breth +in the body. Keep up yur heart, man! Think o' how we war 'mong them +wagguns. That oughter strengthen yur gizzern. Niver say die till yur +dead, and the crowner are holdin' his 'quest over yur karkidge. Thet's +the doctryne o' Walt Wilder." + +As if to give illustrative proof of it, he catches hold of his comrade's +sleeve; with a pluck turns him around, and leads him back to the place +where they had parted from the mules. These are released from their +pickets, then led silently, and in a circuitous direction, towards the +base of one of the buttes. + +Its sides appear too steep for even a mule to scale them; but a +boulder-strewed ravine offers a suitable place for secreting the +animals. + +There they are left, their lariats affording sufficient length to make +them fast to the rocks, while a _tapado_ of the saddle-blankets secures +them against binneying. + +Having thus disposed of the animals, the two men scramble on up the +ravine, reach the summit of the hill, and sit down among the cedar-scrub +that crowns it, determined to remain there and await the "development of +events." + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. + +APPROACHING THE PREY. + +Were we gifted with clairvoyance, it might at times spare us much +misery, thought at other times it would make it. Perhaps 'tis better we +are as we are. + +Were Frank Hamersley and Walt Wilder, keeping watch on the summit of the +mound, possessed of second sight, they would not think of remaining +there throughout all the night--not for an hour--nay, not so much as a +minute, for they would be aware that within less than ten miles of them +is a party of men with friendly hearts and strong arms, both at their +disposal for the very purpose they now need such. Enough of them to +strike Uraga's lancers and scatter them like chaff. + +And could the man commanding these but peep over the precipitous +escarpment of the Llano Estacado and see those stalwart Texans +bivouacked below, he would descend into the valley with less +deliberation, and make greater haste to retire out of it. He and his +know nothing of the formidable foes so near, any more than Hamersley and +Wilder suspect the proximity of such powerful friends. Both are alike +unconscious that the Texans are encamped within ten miles. Yet they +are; for the gorge at whose mouth they have halted is the outlet of the +valley stream, where it debouches upon the Texan plain. + +Without thought of being interfered with, the former proceed upon their +ruthless expedition; while the latter have no alternative but await its +issue. They do so with spirits impatiently chafing, and hearts sorely +agonised. + +Both are alike apprehensive for what next day's sun will show them-- +perchance a dread spectacle. + +Neither shuts eye in sleep. With nerves excited and bosoms agitated +they lie awake, counting the hours, the minutes; now and then +questioning the stars as to the time. + +They converse but little, and only in whispers. The night is profoundly +still. The slightest sound, a word uttered above their breath, might +betray them. + +They can distinctly hear the talk of the lancers left below. Hamersley, +who understands their tongue, can make out their conversation. It is +for the most part ribald and blasphemous, boasts of their _bonnes +fortunes_ with the damsels of the Del Norte, commingled with curses at +this ill-starred expedition that for a time separates them from their +sweethearts. + +Among them appears a gleam greater than the ignited tips of their +cigarittos. 'Tis the light of a candle which they have stuck up over a +serape spread along the earth. Several are seen clustering around it; +while their conversation tells that they are relieving the dull hours +with a little diversion. They are engaged in gambling, and ever and +anon the cries, "_Soto en la puerta_!" "_Cavallo mozo_!" ascending in +increased monotone, proclaim it to be the never-ending national game of +monte. + +Meanwhile Uraga, with the larger body of the lancers, has got down into +the glen, and is making way towards the point aimed at. He proceeds +slowly and with caution. This for two distinct reasons--the sloping +path is difficult even by day, at night requiring all the skill of +experienced riders to descend it. Still with the traitor at their head, +who knows every step, they gradually crawl down the cliff, single file, +again forming "by twos" as they reach the more practicable causeway +below. + +Along this they continue to advance in silence and like caution. +Neither the lancer colonel nor his lieutenant has forgotten the terrible +havoc made among the Tenawas by the two men who survived that fearful +affray, and whom they may expect once more to meet. They know that both +have guns--the traitor has told them so--and that, as before, they will +make use of them. Therefore Uraga intends approaching stealthily, and +taking them by surprise. Otherwise he may himself be the first to +fall--a fate he does not wish to contemplate. But there can be no +danger, he fancies as he rides forward. It is now the mid-hour of +night, a little later, and the party to be surprised will be in their +beds. If all goes well he may seize them asleep. + +So far everything seems favourable. No sound comes from the direction +of the lonely dwelling, not even the bark of a watch dog. The only +noises that interrupt the stillness of the night are the lugubrious cry +of the coyote and the wailing note of the whip-poor-will; these, at +intervals blending with the sweeter strain of the tzenzontle--the +Mexican nightingale--intermittently silenced as the marching troop +passes near the spot where it is perched. + +Once more, before coming in sight of the solitary jacal, Uraga commands +a halt. This time to reconnoitre, not to rest or stay. The troopers +sit in their saddles, with reins ready to be drawn; like a flock of +vultures about to unfold their wings for the last swoop upon their +victims--to clutch, tear, kill, do with them as they may wish! + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY TWO. + +A BLOODLESS CAPTURE. + +A house from which agreeable guests have just taken departure is rarely +cheerful. The reverse, if these have been very agreeable--especially on +the first evening after. + +The rude sheiling which gives shelter to the refugees is no exception. +Everyone under its roof is afflicted with low spirits, some of them +sad--two particularly so. + +Thus has it been since the early hour of daybreak, when the guests +regretted spoke the parting speech. + +In the ears of Adela Miranda, all day long, has been ringing that +painful word, "Adios!" while thoughts about him who uttered it have been +agitating her bosom. + +Not that she has any fear of his fealty, or that he will prove traitor +to his troth now plighted. On the contrary, she can confide in him for +that, and does--fully, trustingly. + +Her fears are from a far different cause; the danger he is about to +dare. + +Conchita, in like manner, though in less degree, has her apprehensions. +The great Colossus who has captured her heart, and been promised her +hand, may never return to claim it. But, unacquainted with the risk he +is going to run, the little mestiza has less to alarm her, and only +contemplates her lover's absence, with that sense of uncertainty common +to all who live in a land where every day has its dangers. + +Colonel Miranda is discomforted too. Never before since his arrival in +the valley have his apprehensions been so keen. Hamersley's words, +directing suspicion to the peon, Manuel, have excited them. All the +more from his having entertained something of this before. And now +still more, that his messenger is three days overdue from the errand on +which he has sent him. + +At noon he and Don Prospero again ascend to the summit of the pass, and +scan the table plain above--to observe nothing upon it, either +westwardly or in any other direction. And all the afternoon has one or +the other been standing near the door of the jacal, with a lorgnette +levelled up the ravine through which the valley is entered from above. + +Only as the shades of night close over them do they desist from this +vigil, proving fruitless. + +Added to the idea of danger, they have another reason for desiring the +speedy return of the messenger. Certain little luxuries he is expected +to bring--among the rest a skin or two of wine and a few boxes of +cigars. For neither the colonel himself nor the ex-army surgeon are +anchorites, however much they have of late been compelled to the habit. +Above all, they need tobacco, their stock being out; the last ounce +given to their late guests on leaving. + +These are minor matters, but yet add to the cheerlessness of the time +after the strangers have gone. Not less at night, when more than ever +one feels a craving for the nicotian weed, to consume it in some way-- +pipe, cigar, or cigaritto. + +As the circle of three assemble in their little sitting-room, after a +frugal supper, tobacco is the Colonel's chief care, and becomes the +first topic of conversation. + +"Carramba!" he explains, as if some new idea had entered his head, "I +couldn't have believed in a man suffering so much from such a trifling +cause." + +"What are you referring to?" interrogates the doctor. + +"The thing you're thinking of at this moment, _amigo mio_. I'll make a +wager it's the same." + +"As you know, colonel, I never bet." + +"Nor I upon a certainty, as in this case it would be. I know what your +mind's bent upon--tobacco." + +"I confess it, colonel. I want a smoke, bad as ever I did in my life." + +"Sol." + +"But why don't you both have it, then?" + +It is Adela who thus innocently interrogates. + +"For the best of all reasons," rejoins her brother. "We haven't the +wherewith." + +"What! no cigarittos? I saw some yesterday on one of the shelves." + +"But not to day. At this moment there isn't a pinch of tobacco within +twenty miles of where we sit, unless our late guests have made a very +short day's march. I gave them the last I had to comfort them on the +journey." + +"Yes, senorita," adds the doctor, "and something quite as bad, if not +worse. Our bottles are empty. The wine is out as well as the weed." + +"In that," interrupts the Colonel, "I'm happy to say you're mistaken. +It's not so bad as you think, doctor. True, the pigskin has collapsed; +for the throat of the huge Texan was as difficult to saturate as the +most parched spot on the Staked Plain. Finding it so, I took occasion +to abstract a good large gourd, and set it surreptitiously aside. I did +that to meet emergencies. As one seems to have arisen, I think the +hidden treasure may now be produced." + +Saying this, the colonel steps out of the room, soon returning with a +large calabash bottle. + +Conchita is summoned, and directed to bring drinking cups, which she +does. + +Miranda, pouring out the wine says,-- + +"This will cheer us; and, in truth, we all need cheering. I fancy +there's enough to last us till Manuel makes his reappearance with a +fresh supply. Strange his not having returned. He's had time to do all +his bargainings and been back three days ago. I hoped to see him home +before our friends took departure, so that I could better have provided +them for their journey. They'll stand a fair chance of being famished." + +"No fear of that," puts in Don Prospero. + +"Why do you say so, doctor?" + +"Because of the rifle I gave to Senor Gualtero. With it he will be able +to keep both provisioned. 'Tis marvellous how he can manage it. He has +killed bits of birds without spoiling their skins or even ruffling a +feather. I'm indebted to him for some of my best specimens. So long as +he carries a gun, with ammunition to load it, you need have no fear he +or his companion will perish from hunger, even on the Llano Estacado." + +"About that," rejoins Miranda, "I think we need have no uneasiness. +Beyond lies the thing to be apprehended--not on the desert, but amid +cultivated fields, in the streets of towns, in the midst of so-called +civilisation. There will be their real danger." + +For some time the three are silent, their reflections assuming a sombre +hue, called forth by the colonel's words. + +But the doctor, habitually light-hearted, soon recovers, and makes an +effort to imbue the others with cheerfulness like his own. + +"Senorita," he says, addressing himself to Adela, "your guitar, hanging +there against the wall, seems straining its strings as if they longed +for the touch of your fair fingers. You've been singing every night for +the last month, delighting us all I hope you won't be silent now that +your audience is reduced, but will think it all the more reason for +bestowing your favours on the few that remain." + +To the gallant speech of pure Castilian idiom, the young lady answers +with a smile expressing assent, at the same time taking hold of her +guitar. As she reseats herself, and commences tuning the instrument, a +string snaps. + +It seems an evil omen; and so all three regard it, though without +knowing why. It is because, like the strings of the instrument, their +hearts are out of tune, or rather attuned to a presentiment which +oppresses them. + +The broken string is soon remedied by a knot; this easily done. Not so +easy to restore the tranquillity of thought disturbed by its breaking. + +No more does the melancholy song which succeeds. Even to that far land +has travelled the strain of the "Exile of Erin." Its appropriateness to +their own circumstances suggesting itself to the Mexican maiden, she +sings-- + + Sad is my fate, said the heart-broken stranger, + The wild deer and wolf to the covert can flee, + But I have no refuge from famine and danger, + A home and a country remain not to me. + +"Dear Adela!" interrupts Miranda. "That song is too sad. We're already +afflicted with its spirit. Change it for one more cheerful. Give us a +lay of the Alhambra--a battle-song of the Cid or the Campeador-- +something patriotic and stirring." + +Obedient to her brother's request, the young girl changes tune and song, +now pouring forth one of those inimitable lays for which the language of +Cervantes is celebrated. + +Despite all, the heaviness of heart remains, pressing upon those who +listen as on her who sings. Adela's voice appears to have lost its +accustomed sweetness, while the strings of her guitar seem equally out +of tune. + +All at once, while in the middle of her song, the two bloodhounds, that +have been lying on the floor at her feet, start from their recumbent +position, simultaneously giving utterance to a growl, and together rush +out through the open door. + +The singing is instantly brought to an end; while Don Valerian and the +doctor rise hastily from their chairs. + +The bark of watch-dog outside some quiet farmhouse, amidst the homes of +civilisation, can give no idea of the startling effect which the same +sound calls forth on the far Indian frontier--nothing like the alarm +felt by the dwellers in that lone ranche. To add to it, they hear a +hoof striking on the stones outside--that of either horse or mule. It +cannot be Lolita's; the mustang mare is securely stalled, and the +hoof-stroke comes not from the stable. There are no other animals. +Their late guests have taken away the two saddle mules, while the _mulas +de carga_ are with the messenger, Manuel. + +"It's he come back!" exclaims the doctor. "We ought to be rejoiced +instead of scared. Come, Don Valerian! we shall have our smoke yet +before going to bed." + +"It's not Manuel," answers Miranda. "The dogs would have known him +before this. Hear how they keep on baying! Ha! what's that? Chico's +voice! Somebody has caught hold of him!" + +A cry from the peon outside, succeeded by expostulations, as if he was +struggling to escape--his voice commingled with shrill screams from +Conchita--are sounds almost simultaneous. + +Don Valerian strides back into the room and lays hold of his sword, the +doctor clutching at the first weapon that presents itself. + +But weapons are of no avail where there are not enough hands to wield +them. + +Into the cabin lead two entrance doors--one front, the other back--and +into both is seen pouring a stream of armed men, soldiers in uniform. + +Before Miranda can disengage his sword from its scabbard, a perfect +_chevaux-de-frise_ of lance-points are within six inches of his breast, +while the doctor is similarly menaced. + +Both perceive that resistance will be idle. It can only end in their +instant impalement. + +"Surrender, rebels!" cries a voice rising above the din. + +"Drop your weapons, and at once, if you wish your lives spared! +Soldiers, disarm them!" + +Miranda recognises the voice. Perhaps, had he done so sooner, he would +have held on to his sword, and taken the chances of a more protracted +and desperate resistance. + +It is too late. As the weapon is wrested from his grasp, he sees +standing before him the man of all others he has most reason to fear-- +Gil Uraga! + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. + +A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. + +All night long Hamersley and the hunter remain upon the summit of the +mound. It is a night of dread anxiety, seeming to them an age. + +They think not of taking sleep--they could not. There is that in their +minds that would keep them wakeful if they had not slept for a week. +Time passing does not lessen their suspense. On the contrary, it grows +keener, becoming an agony almost unendurable. + +To escape from it, Hamersley half forms the resolution to descend the +hill and endeavour to steal past the sentinels. If discovered, to +attack them boldly, and attempt cutting a way through; then on into the +valley, and take such chances as may turn up for the rescue of the +refugees. + +Putting it to his companion, the latter at once offers opposing counsel. +It would be more than rashness--sheer madness. At least a dozen +soldiers have been left on picket at the summit of the pass. Standing +or sitting, they are scattered all over the ground. It would be +impossible for anyone going down the gorge to get past them unperceived; +and for two men to attack twelve, however courageous the former and +cowardly the latter, the odds would be too great. + +"I wouldn't mind it for all that," says Walt, concluding his response to +the rash proposal, "ef thar war nothin' more to be did beyont. But thar +is. Even war we to cut clar through, kill every skunk o' 'em, our work +'ud be only begun. Thar's two score to meet us below. What ked we do +wi' 'em? No, Frank; we mout tackle these twelve wi' some sort o' +chance, but two agin forty! It's too ugly a odds. No doubt we ked drop +a good grist o' 'em afore goin' under, but in the eend they'd git the +better o' us--kill us to a sartinty." + +"It's killing me to stay here. Only to think what the ruffians may be +doing at this moment! Adela--" + +"Don't gie yur mind to thinkin' o' things now. Keep your thoughts for +what we may do arterward. Yur Adela ain't goin' to be ate up that +quick, nor yet my Concheeter. They'll be tuk away 'long wi' t'others as +prisoners. We kin foller, and trust to some chance o' bein' able to git +'em out o' the clutches o' the scoundrels." + +Swayed by his comrade's counsel, somewhat tranquillised by it, Hamersley +resigns himself to stay as they are. Calmer reflection convinces him +there is no help for it. The alternative, for an instant entertained, +would be to rush recklessly on death, going into its very jaws. + +They lie along the ground listening, now and then standing up and +peering through the branches at the sentries below. For a long while +they hear nothing save the calls of the card-players, thickly +interlarded with _carajoz, chingaras_, and other blasphemous +expressions. But just after the hour of midnight other sounds reach +their ears, which absorb all their attention, taking it away from the +gamesters. + +Up out of the valley, borne upon the buoyant atmosphere, comes the +baying of bloodhounds. In echo it reverberates along the facade of the +cliff, for a time keeping continuous. Soon after a human voice, quickly +followed by a second; these not echoes or repetitions of the same; for +one is the coarse guttural cry of a man, the other a scream in the +shrill treble of of a woman. The first is the shout of surprise uttered +by Chico, the second the shriek of alarm sent forth by Conchita. + +With hearts audibly beating, the listeners bend their ears to catch what +may come next, both conjecturing the import of the sounds that have +already reached them, and this with instinctive correctness. Walt is +the first to give speech to his interpretation of it. + +"They're at the shanty now," he says, in a whisper. "The two houn's guv +tongue on hearin' 'em approach. That fust shout war from the Injun +Cheeko; and the t'other air hern--my gurl's. Durnation! if they hurt +but a he'r o' her head--Wagh! what's the use o' my threetenin'?" + +As if seeing his impotence, the hunter suddenly ceases speech, again +setting himself to listen. Hamersley, without heeding him, is already +in this attitude. + +And now out of the valley arise other sounds, not all of them loud. The +stream, here and there falling in cataracts, does something to deaden +them. Only now and then there is the neigh of a horse, and +intermittently the bark of one of the bloodhounds, as if these animals +had yielded, but yet remain hostile to the intruders. They hear human +voices, too, but no shout following that of Chico, and no scream save +the one sent up by Conchita. + +There is loud talk, a confusion of speakers, but no report of firearms. +This last is tranquillising. A shot at that moment heard by Hamersley +would give him more uneasiness than if the gun were aimed at himself. + +"Thank God!" he gasps out, after a long spell of listening, "Miranda has +made no resistance. He's seen it would be no use, and has quietly +surrendered. I suppose it's all over now, and they are captives." + +"Wal, better thet than they shed be corpses," is the consolatory +reflection of the hunter. "So long as thar's breath left in thar bodies +we kin hev hope, as I sayed arready. Let's keep up our hearts by +thinkin' o' the fix we war in atween the wagguns, an' arterwards thet +scrape in the cave. We kim clar out o' both in a way we mout call +mirakelous, an' we may yit git them clar in someat the same fashion. +'Slong's I've got my claws roun' the stock o' a good gun, wi' plenty o' +powder and lead, I ain't a-goin' to deespar. We've both got that, +tharfor niver say die!" + +The hunter's quaint speech is encouraging; but for all, it does not +hinder him and his comrade from soon after returning to a condition of +despondency, if not actual despair. + +A feeling which holds possession of them till the rising of the sun, and +on till it reaches meridian. + +When the day breaks, with eyes anxiously scrutinising, they look down +into the valley. A mist hangs over the stream, caused by the spray of +its cataracts. + +Lifting at length, there is displayed a scene not very different from +what they have been expecting. + +Around the ranche they see horses picketed and soldiers moving among +them or standing in groups apart; in short, a picture of military life +in "country quarters." + +Their point of view is too far off to identify individual forms or note +the exact action carried on. This last, left to conjecture, is filled +up by fancies of the most painful kind. + +For long hours are they constrained to endure them--up to that of noon. +Then, the notes of a bugle, rising clear above the hissing of the +cascades, foretell a change in the spectacle. It is the call, "Boots +and saddles!" The soldiers are seen caparisoning their horses and +standing by the stirrup. + +Another blast gives the order to "Mount!" Soon after, the "Forward!" +Then the troop files off from the front of the jacal, disappearing under +the trees like a gigantic glittering serpent. The white drapery of a +woman's dress is seen fluttering at its head, as if the reptile had +seized upon some tender prey--a dove from the cote--and was bearing it +off to its slimy lair. + +For another half-hour the two men on the mound wait with nervous +impatience. It requires this time to make the ascent from the centre of +the valley to the upper plain. After entering among the trees, the +soldiers and their captives are out of sight; but the clattering of +their horses' hoofs can be heard as they strike upon the rock-strewn +path. Once or twice a trumpet sound proclaims their movements upon the +march. + +At length the head of the troop appears, the leading files following one +after the other along the narrow ledge. As they approach the summit of +the pass the track widens, admitting a formation "by twos." At the +trumpet call they change to this, a single horseman riding at their +head. + +He is now near enough for his features to be distinguished, and +Hamersley's heart strikes fiercely against his ribs as he recognises +them. If he had any doubt before, it is set at rest now. He sees Gil +Uraga, certain of his being the man who caused the destruction of his +caravan. His own horse, ridden by the robber, is proof conclusive of +the crime. + +He takes note that the lancer colonel is dressed in splendid style, very +different from the dust-stained cavalier who the day before passed over +the desert plain. Now he appears in a gorgeous laced uniform, with +lancer cap and plume, gold cords and aiguillettes dangling adown his +breast; for he has this morning made his toilet with care, in +consideration of the company in which he intends travelling. + +Neither Hamersley nor the hunter hold their eyes long upon him; they are +both looking for another individual--each his own. These soon make +their appearance, their white dresses distinguishable amid the darker +uniforms. During the march their position has been changed. They are +now near the centre of the troop, the young lady upon her own mare +Lolita, while the Indian damsel is mounted on a mule. They are free, +both hand and limb, but a file in front, with another behind, have +charge of them. Farther rearward is another group, more resembling +captives. This is composed of three men upon mules, fast bound to +saddle and stirrup, two of them having their arms pinioned behind their +backs. Their animals are led each by a trooper who rides before. The +two about whose security such precaution has been taken are Don Valerian +and the doctor, the third, with his arms free, is Chico. His +fellow-servant Manuel, also on mule-back, is following not far behind, +but in his attitude or demeanour there is nothing to tell of the +captive. If at times he looks gloomy, it is when he reflects upon his +black treason and infamous ingratitude. Perhaps he has repented, or +deems the prospect not so cheerful as expected. After all, what will be +his reward? He has ruined his master and many others beside, but this +will not win him the love of Conchita. + +The spectators feel somewhat relieved as Colonel Miranda comes in sight. +Still more as the march brings him nearer, and it can be seen that he +sits his horse with no sign of having received any injury; and neither +has Don Prospero. The elaborate fastenings are of themselves evidences +that no hurt has happened to them. It has been a capture without +resistance, as their friends hoped it would, their fears having been of +a conflict to end in the death of the exiles. + +One by one, and two by two, the troops come filing on, till the leader +is opposite the spot where the two spectators stand crouching among the +trees. These are dwarf cedars, and give the best cover for concealment. +Thoroughly screened by their thickly-set boughs and dense dark foliage, +Hamersley and the hunter command a clear view of everything below. The +distance to the summit of the pass is about two hundred yards in a +slanting direction. + +As the lancer colonel approaches the spot where the picket is posted, he +halts and gives an order. It is for the guard to fall in along with the +rest of the troop. + +At this moment a similar thought is in the minds of the two men whose +eyes are upon him from above. Wilder is the first to give expression to +it. He does so in an undertone,-- + +"Ef we ked trust the carry o' our rifles, Frank." + +"I was thinking of it," is the rejoinder, equally earnest. "We can't +I'm afraid it's too far." + +"I weesh I only had my old gun; she'd a sent a bullet furrer than that. +A blue pill inter his stomach 'ud simplerfy matters consid'rable. 'Tall +events it 'ud git your gurl out o' danger, and mayhap all on 'em. I +b'lieve the hul clanjamfery o' them spangled jay birds 'ud run at +hearin' a shot. Then we ked gie 'em a second, and load an' fire half a +dozen times afore they could mount up hyar--if they'd dar to try it. +Ah! it's too fur. The distance in these hyar high purairas is desprit +deceivin'. Durned pity we kedn't do it. I fear we can't." + +"If we should miss, then--" + +"Things 'ud only be wuss. I reck'n we'd better let'm slide now, and +foller arter. Thar boun' straight for the Del Norte; but whether or no, +we kin eesy pick up thar trail." + +Hamersley still hesitates, his fingers alternately tightening on his +gun, and then relaxing. His thoughts are flowing in a quick current-- +too quick for cool deliberation. He knows he can trust his own aim, as +well as that of his comrade. But the distance is doubtful, and the +shots might fall short. Then it would be certain death to them; for the +situation is such that there could be no chance to escape, with fifty +horsemen to pursue, themselves mounted upon mules, and therewith be +reached without difficulty. They might defend themselves on the mound, +but not for long. Two against fifty, they would soon be overpowered. +After all, it will be better to let the troop pass on. So counsels the +ex-Ranger, pointing out that the prisoners will be carried on to New +Mexico--to Albuquerque, of course. He and his comrade are Americans, +and not proscribed there. They can follow without fear. Some better +opportunity may arise for rescuing the captives. Their prison may offer +this; and from what they have heard of such places it is probable +enough. A golden key is good for opening the door of any gaol in +Mexico. + +Only one thought hinders Hamersley from at once giving way to this +reasoning--the thought of his betrothed being in such company--under +such an escort, worse than unprotected! + +Once more he scans the distance that separates him from the soldiers, +his gun tightly grasped. + +Could their colonel but suspect his proximity at that moment, and what +is passing through his mind, he would sit with little confidence in his +saddle, bearing himself less pompously. + +Caution, backed by the ex-Ranger's counsel, asserts its sway, and the +Kentuckian relaxes his grasp on the gun, dropping its butt to the +ground. + +The last files, having cleared the gap, are formed into a more compact +order; when, the bugle again sounding "Forward," the march is resumed, +the troop striking off over the plain in the direction whence it came. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR. + +A MAN AND A MULE. + +Carefully as ever, Hamersley and the Texan keep to their place of +concealment. They dare not do otherwise. The slope by which they +ascended is treeless, the cedars only growing upon the summit. The +gorge, too, by which they went up, and at the bottom of which their +mules were left, debouches westwardly on the plain--the direction in +which the lancers have ridden off. Any of these chancing to look back +would be sure to catch sight of them if they show themselves outside the +sheltering scrub. They have their apprehensions about their animals. +It is a wonder these have not been seen by the soldiers. Although +standing amid large boulders, a portion of the bodies of both are +visible from the place mentioned. Fortunately for their owners, their +colour closely resembled the rocks, and for which the troopers may have +mistaken them. More probably, in their impatience to proceed upon the +return route, none of them turn their eyes in that direction. + +An equally fortunate circumstance is the fact of the mules being +muffled. Otherwise they might make themselves heard. Not a sound, +either snort or hinney, escape them; not so much as the stamping of a +hoof. They stand patient and silent, as if they themselves had fear of +the men who are foes to their masters. + +For a full hour after the lancers have left these stay crouching behind +the cedars. Even an hour does not take the troop out of sight. +Cumbered with their captives, they march at slow, measured pace--a walk. +Moreover, the pellucid atmosphere of the Staked Plain makes objects +visible at double the ordinary distance. They are yet but five miles +from the buttes, and, looking back, could see a man at their base, more +surely one mounted. + +The two who are on the summit allow quite twenty minutes more to elapse +before they think of leaving it. Then, deeming it safe, they prepare to +descend. + +Still they are in no haste. Their intention is to follow the cavalcade, +but by no means to overtake it. Nor do they care to keep it in sight, +but the contrary, since that might beget danger to themselves. They +anticipate no difficulty in taking up the trail of a troop like that +Walt confidently declares he could do so were he blindfolded as their +mules, adding, in characteristic phraseology, "I ked track the skunks by +thar smell." + +Saying this he proposes a "bit o' brakwist," a proposition his comrade +assents to with eagerness. They have not eaten since dinner of the day +before, their provisions having been left below, and the sharp morning +air has given additional edge to their appetites. This at length draws +them down to their mules. + +Taking off the _tapados_ to relieve the poor animals, who have somewhat +suffered from being so scurvily treated, they snatch a hasty repast from +their haversacks, then light their pipes for a smoke preparatory to +setting forth. It is not yet time, for the soldiers are still in sight. +They will wait till the last lance pennon sinks below the horizon. + +Whilst smoking, with eyes bent upon the receding troop, a sound salutes +their ears, causing both to start. Fortunately they draw back behind +one of the boulders, and there remain listening. What they heard was +certainly a hoofstroke, whether of horse or mule--not of either of their +own; these are by their sides, while the sound that has startled them +appears to proceed from the other side of the mound, as if from the +summit of the pass leading up out of the valley. + +They hear it again. Surely it is in the gorge that goes down, or at the +head of it. + +Their conjecture is that one of the lancers has lagged behind, and is +now _en route_ to overtake the troop. + +If it be thus what course are they to pursue? He may look back and see +themselves or their animals, then gallop on and report to his comrades. + +'Twould be a sinister episode, and they must take steps to prevent it. + +They do so by hastily restoring the _tapados_ and leading the mules into +a _cul-de-sac_, where they will be safe from observation. + +Again they hear the sound, still resembling a hoofstroke, but not of an +animal making way over the ground in walk, trot, or gallop, but as one +that refused to advance, and was jibbing. + +Between them and it there seems great space, a projecting spur of the +butte from which they have just descended. By climbing the ridge for a +score of yards or so they can see into the gorge that goes down to the +valley. + +As the trampling still appears steadfast to the same point, their alarm +gives place to curiosity, then impatience. Yielding to this, they +scramble up the ridge that screens the kicking animal from their view. + +Craning their heads over its crest, they see that which, instead of +causing further fear, rather gives them joy. + +Just under their eyes, in the gap of the gorge, a man is struggling with +a mule. It is a contest of very common occurrence. The animal is +saddled, and the man is making attempts to get his leg over the saddle. +The hybrid is restive, and will not permit him to put foot in the +stirrup. Ever as he approaches it shies back, rearing and pitching to +the full length and stretch of the bridle-rein. + +Soon as seeing him, they upon the ridge recognise the man thus +vexatiously engaged. He is the peon Manuel. + +"The durned scoundrel," hissed Walt, through clenched teeth. "What's +kep him ahint, I wonder?" + +Hamersley responds not--he, too, conjecturing. + +"By Jehorum!" continues the hunter, "it looks like he'd stayed back +apurpose. Thar ked been nothin' to hinder him to go on 'long wi' the +rest. The questyun air what he's stayed for. Some trick o' trezun, +same as he's did afore." + +"Something of the kind, I think," rejoins Hamersley, still considering. + +"Wal, he's wantin' to get on bad enuf now, if the mule 'ud only let him. +Say, Frank, shell I put a payriud to their conflict by sendin' a bit o' +lead that way, I kin rub the varmint out by jest pressin' my finger on +this trigger." + +"Do you mean the man or the mule?" + +"The man, in coorse. For what shed I shoot the harmless critter that's +been carryin' him? Say the word, an' I'll send him to kingdom come in +the twinklin' o' a goat's tail. I've got sight on him. Shall I draw +the trigger?" + +"For your life, don't look yonder! They're not yet out of sight. They +might see the smoke, perhaps hear the crack. Comrade, you're taking +leave of your senses!" + +"Contemplatin' that ugly anymal below air enough to make me. It a'most +druv me out o' my mind to think o' his black ungratefulness. Now, +seein' hisself through the sight of a rifle 'ithin good shootin' +distance, shurely ye don't intend we shud let him go!" + +"Certainly not. That would be ruin to ourselves. We must either kill +or capture him. But it must be done without noise, or at least without +firing a shot. They're not far enough off yet." + +"How d'ye devise, then?" + +"Let's back to our mules, mount, and get round the ledge. We must head +him before he gets out of the gap. Come on!" + +Both scramble back down the slope quicker than they ascended it, knowing +there is good reason for haste--the best for their lives--every thing +may depend on capturing the peon. Should he see them, and get away, it +will be worse both for them and their dear ones. + +In two minutes the mules are again unmuffled and mounted. In two more +they are entering the gap from outside, their masters on their backs. + +These, spurring the animals to speed, enter the gorge, their eyes +everywhere. They reach the spot where the peon was so late seen, +striving to get into his saddle. They see the turf torn up by the +hybrid's hoofs, but no man, no mule. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE. + +A LAGGER LAGGED. + +The surprise of the two men is but momentary; for there can be no +mystery about the peon's disappearance. He has simply gone down the +ravine, and back into the valley. Is he on return to the house, which +they know is now untenanted, and, if so, with what intent? Has he +become so attached to the place as to intend prolonging his sojourn +there? or has something arisen to make him discontented with the company +he has been keeping, and so determined to get quit of it by hanging +behind? + +Something of this sort was on their minds as they last saw him over the +crest of the ridge. While in conflict with his mule, he was ever and +anon turning his eyes towards the point where the soldiers must have +been last seen by him; for from the gap in which he was these were no +longer visible. Both Hamersley and Wilder had noticed an uneasy air +about him at the time, attributing it to his vexation at being delayed +by the obstinacy of the animal and the fear of being left behind. Now +that he had mounted and taken the back-track, the cause must be +different. + +"Thar's somethin' queery in what the coyoats doin'," is Walt's +half-soliloquised observation; adding, "Though what he's arter tain't so +eezy to tell. He must be tired o' their kumpany, and want to get shet +o' it. He'll be supposin' they ain't likely to kum back arter him; an' +I reck'n they won't, seein' they've got all out o' him they need care +for. Still, what ked he do stayin' hyar by himself?" + +Walt is still ignorant of the peon's partiality for his own sweetheart. +He has had a suspicion of something, but not the deep, dire passion that +burns in the Indian's heart. Aware of this, he would not dwell on the +probability of the man having any intention, any more than himself, +remain behind now that Conchita is gone. + +"Arter all," he continues, still speaking in half soliloquy, "I don't +think stayin's his game. There's somethin' else at the bottom on't." + +"Can Uraga have sent him back on any errand?" + +"No, that ain't it eyther. More like he's good on a errand o' his own. +I reckon I ken guess it now. The traitur intends turnin' thief as +well--doin' a leetle bit o' stealin' along wi' his treason. Ye +remember, Frank, thar war a goodish grit o' valleyables in the shanty-- +the saynorita's jeweltry an' the like. Jest possyble, in the skrimmage, +whiles they war making capter o' thar prisoners, this ugly varmint tuk +devantage o' the confusion to secret a whun o' thar gimcracks, an's now +goed back arter 'em." + +"It seems probable enough. Still, he might have some other errand, and +may not go on as far as the house. In which case, we may look for his +return this way at any moment. It will never do for us to start upon +their trail, leaving him coming in our rear. He would see us, and in +the night might slip past and give them warning they were followed." + +"All that air true. We must grup him now." + +"Should we go down after him, or stay here till he comes up?" + +"Neythur o' the two ways'll do. He moutn't kum along no time. If he's +got plunder he won't try to overtake the sogers, but wait till they're +well out o' his way. He knows the road to the Del Norte, and kin travel +it by hisself." + +"Then we should go down after him." + +"Only one o' us. If we both purceed to the shanty there's be a chance +o' passin' him on the way. He mout be in the timmer, an', seein' us, +put back out hyar, an' so head us. There'd no need o' both for the +capterin' sech a critter as that. I'll fetch him on his marrowbones by +jest raisin' this rifle. Tharfor, s'pose you stay hyar an' guard this +gap, while I go arter an' grup him. I'm a'most sartin he'll be at the +shanty. Anyhow, he's in the trap, and can't get out till he's hed my +claws roun' the scruff o' his neck an' my thumb on his thropple." + +"Don't kill him if you can help it. True he deserves to die; but we may +want a word with him first. He may give information that will +afterwards prove useful to us." + +"Don't be afeared, Frank. I shan't hurt a har o' his head, unless he +reesists, then I must kripple him a bit. But he ain't like to show +fight, such a coyoat as he!" + +"All right, Walt. I'll wait for you." + +"You won't hev long. Ye'd better take kiver back o' them big stones to +make sure o' not bein' seen by him, shed he by any chance slip past me. +An' keep yur ears open. Soon as I've treed him I'll gie a whistle or +two. When ye hear that ye can kim down." + +After delivering this chapter of suggestions and injunctions, the +ex-Ranger heads his mule down the pass, and is soon lost to his +comrade's sight as he turns off along the ledge of the cliff. + +Hamersley, himself inclined to caution, follows the direction last +given, and rides back behind one of the boulders. Keeping in the +saddle, he sits in silent meditation. Sad thoughts alone occupy his +mind. His prospects are gloomy indeed; his forecast of the future dark +and doubtful. He has but little hope of being able to benefit Don +Valerian Miranda, and cannot be sure of rescueing his sister--his own +betrothed--in time to avert that terrible catastrophe which he knows to +be impending over her. He does not give it a name--he scarce dares let +it take shape in his thoughts. + +Nearly half-an-hour is spent in this painful reverie. He is aroused +from it by a sound which ascends out of the valley. With a start of joy +he recognises the signal his comrade promised to send him. The whistle +is heard in three distinct "wheeps," rising clear above the hoarser +sibillations of the cascades. From the direction he can tell it comes +from the neighbourhood of the house; but, without waiting to reflect +whither, he spurs his mule out, and rides down the pass as rapidly as +possible. + +On reaching the level below he urges the animal to a gallop, and soon +arrives at the ranche. + +There, as expected, he finds his companion, with the peon a captive. + +The two, with their mules, form a tableau in front of the untenanted +dwelling. + +The ex-Ranger is standing in harangue attitude, slightly bent forward, +his body propped by his rifle, the butt of which rests upon the ground. +At his feet is the Indian, lying prostrate, his ankles lashed together +with a piece of cowhide rope, his wrists similarly secured. + +"I ked catched him a leetle sooner," says Walt to his comrade, coming +up, "but I war kewrious to find out what he war arter, an' waited to +watch him. That's the explication o' it." + +He points to a large bag lying near, with its contents half poured out-- +a varied collection of articles of bijouterie and virtu, resembling a +cornucopia; spilling its fruits. Hamersley recognises them as part of +the _penates_ of his late host. + +"Stolen goods," continues Walt, "that's what they air. An' stole from a +master he's basely betrayed, may be to death. A mistress, besides, +that's been too kind to him. Darnation! that's a tortiss-shell comb as +belonged to my Concheeter, an' a pair o' slippers I ken swar wur here. +What shed we do to him?" + +"What I intended," responds Hamersley, assuming a curious air; "first +make him confess--tell all he knows. When we've got his story out of +him we can settle that next." + +The confession is not very difficult to extract. With Wilder's +bowie-knife gleaming before his eyes, its blade within six inches of his +breast, the wretch reveals all that has passed since the moment of his +first meditating treason. He even makes declaration of the motive, +knowing the nobility of the men who threatened him, and thinking by this +means to obtain pardon. + +To strengthen his chances he goes still farther, turning traitor against +him to whom he had sold himself--Uraga. He has overheard a conversation +between the Mexican colonel and his adjutant, Lieutenant Roblez. It was +to the effect that they do not intend taking their prisoners all the way +back to Albuquerque. How they mean to dispose of them the peon does not +know. + +He had but half heard the dialogue relating to Don Valerian and the +doctor. + +The female prisoners! Can he tell anything of what is intended with +them? Though not in these terms, the question is asked with this +earnestness. + +The peon is unable to answer it. He does not think they are prisoners-- +certainly not Conchita. She is only being taken back along with her +mistress. About the senorita, his mistress, he heard some words pass +between Uraga and Roblez, but without comprehending their signification. + +In his own heart Hamersley can supply it--does so with dark, dire +misgivings. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY SIX. + +"THE NORTE." + +Westward, across the Liana Estacado, Uraga and his lancers continue on +their return march. The troop, going by twos, is again drawn out in an +elongated line, the arms and accoutrements of the soldiers glancing in +the sun, while the breeze floats back the pennons of their lances. The +men prisoners are a few files from the rear, a file on each flank +guarding them. The women are at the head, alongside the guide and +sub-lieutenant, who has charge of the troop. + +For reasons of his own the lancer colonel does not intrude his company +on the captives. He intends doing so in his own time. It has not yet +come. Nor does he take any part in directing the march of the men. +That duty has been entrusted to the _alferez_; he and Roblez riding +several hundred paces in advance of the troop. + +He has thus isolated himself for the purpose of holding conversation +with his adjutant, unembarrassed by any apprehension of being overheard. + +"Well, _ayadante_," he begins, as soon as they are safe beyond earshot, +"what's your opinion of things now?" + +"I think we've done the thing neatly, though not exactly the way you +wanted it." + +"Anything but that. Still, I don't despair of getting everything +straight in due time. The man Manuel has learnt from his fellow-servant +that our American friends have gone on to the settlements of the Del +Norte. Strange if we can't find them there; and stranger still if, when +found, I don't bring them to book at last. _Caraja_! Neither of the +two will ever leave New Mexico alive." + +"What about these two--our Mexican friends?" + +"For them a fate the very reverse. Neither shall ever reach it alive." + +"You intend taking them there dead, do you?" + +"Neither living nor dead. I don't intend taking them there at all." + +"You think of leaving them by the way?" + +"More than think; I've determined upon it." + +"But surely you don't mean to kill them in cold blood?" + +"I won't harm a hair of their heads--neither I, nor you, nor any of my +soldiers. For all that, they shall die." + +"Colonel, your speech is somewhat enigmatical. I don't comprehend it." + +"In due time you will. Have patience for four days more--it may be +less. Then you will have the key to the enigma. Then Don Valerian +Miranda and the old rascal Don Prospero shall cease to trouble the +dreams of Gil Uraga." + +"And you are really determined on Miranda's death?" + +"A silly question for a man who knows me as you. Of course I am." + +"Well, for my part, I don't care much one way or the other, only I can't +see what benefit it will be to you. He's not such a bad sort of a +fellow, and has got the name of being a courageous soldier." + +"You're growing wonderfully sentimental, _ayadante_. The tender glances +of the senorita seem to have softened you." + +"Not likely," rejoins the adjutant with a grim smile. "The eyes that +could make impression upon the heart of Gaspar Roblez don't exist in the +head of woman. If I have any weaknesses in the feminine way, it's for +the goddess Fortuna. So long as I can get a pack of playing cards, with +some rich _gringo_ to face me in the game, I'll leave petticoats alone." + +In turn the colonel smiles. He knows the idiosyncracy of his +confederate in crime. Rather a strange one for a man who has committed +many robberies, and more than once imbued his hands in blood. Cards, +dice and drink are his passions, his habitual pleasure. Of love he +seems incapable, and does not surrender himself to its lure, though +there has been a chapter of it in his life's history, of which Uraga is +aware, having an unfortunate termination, sealing his heart against the +sex to contempt, almost hatred. Partially to this might be traced the +fact of his having fallen into evil courses, and, like his colonel, +become a robber. But, unlike the latter, he is not all bad. As in the +case of Conrad, linked to a thousand crimes, one virtue is left to him-- +courage. Something like a second remains in his admiration of the same +quality in others. This it is that leads him to put in a word for +Colonel Miranda, whose bravery is known far and wide throughout the +Mexican army. Continuing to plead for him, he says-- + +"I don't see why you should trouble yourself to turn States' +executioner. When we get to Santa Fe our prisoners can be tried by +court-martial. No doubt they'll be condemned and shot." + +"Very great doubt of it, _ayadante_. That might have done when we first +turned their party out. But of late, things are somewhat changed. In +the hills of the Moctezumas matters are again getting complicated, and +just now our worthy chief, El Cojo, will scarce dare to sign a sentence +of death, especially where the party to be _passado por les armes_ is a +man of note like Don Valerian Miranda." + +"He must die?" + +"_Teniente_! Turn your head round and look me straight in the face." + +"I am doing so, colonel. Why do you wish me?" + +"You see that scar on my cheek?" + +"Certainly I do." + +"Don Valerian Miranda did not give the wound that's left it, but he was +partly the cause of my receiving it. But for him the duel would have +ended differently. It's now twelve months gone since I got that gash, +at the same time losing three of my teeth. Ever since the spot has felt +aflame as if hell's fire were burning a hole through my cheek. It can +only be extinguished by the blood of those who kindled it. Miranda is +one of them. You've asked the question, `Must he die?' Looking at this +ugly scar, and into the eye above it, I fancy you will not think it +necessary to repeat the question." + +"But how is it to be done without scandal? As you yourself have said, +it won't do for us to murder the man outright. We may be held to +account--possibly ourselves called before a court-martial. Had he made +resistance, and given us a pretext--" + +"My dear _ayadante_, don't trouble yourself about pretexts. I have a +plan which will serve equally as well--my particular purpose, much +better. As I've promised, you shall know it in good time--participate +in its execution. But, come, we've been discoursing serious matters +till I'm sick of them. Let's talk of something lighter and pleasanter-- +say, woman. What think you of my charmer?" + +"The Dona Adela?" + +"Of course. Could any other charm me? Even you, with your heart of +flint, should feel sparks struck out of it at the sight of her." + +"Certainly she's the most beautiful captive I've ever assisted at the +taking of." + +"Captive!" mutters Uraga, in soliloquy. "I wish she were, in a sense +different." + +Then, with a frown upon his face, continuing,-- + +"What matters it! When he is out of the way, I shall have it all my own +way. Woo her as Tarquin did Lucretia, and she will yield not as the +Roman matron, but as a Mexican woman--give her consent when she can no +longer withhold it. What is it, _cabo_?" + +The interrogatory is addressed to a corporal who has ridden alongside, +and halts, saluting him. + +"Colonel, the _alferez_ sends me to report that the Indian is no longer +with us." + +"What! the man Manuel?" + +"The same, colonel." + +"Halt!" commands Uraga, shouting aloud to the troop, which instantly +comes to a stand. "What's this I hear, _alferez_?" he asks, riding +back, and speaking to the sub-lieutenant. + +"Colonel, we miss the fellow who guided us. He must have dropped behind +as we came out of the gorge. He was with us on leaving the house, and +along the valley road." + +"It don't much signify," says Uraga, in an undertone to Roblez; "we've +got all out of him we need care for. Still, it may be better to bring +him along. No doubt he slipped off to settle some affair of his own-- +some pilferings, I presume; and will be found at the ranche. _Cabo_! +take a file of men, go back to the valley, and bring the loiterer along +with you. As I intend marching slowly, you'll easily overtake us at our +night camp." + +The corporal, singling out the file as directed, rides back towards the +buttes, still in sight, while the troop continues its uninterrupted +march. Uraga and Roblez again go in advance, the former making further +disclosure of his plans to his _particeps criminis_. + +Their confidential dialogue has lasted about an hour, when another of +the lancers riding up again interrupts it. He is a grizzled old +veteran, who has once been a _cibolero_, and seen life upon the plains. + +"What is it, Hernandez?" demands the colonel. + +"_Senor coronel_," says the man, pointing to a little speck in the sky, +that has just shown itself above the north-eastern horizon, "do you see +yonder cloud?" + +"Cloud! I see no cloud, unless you mean that spot on the horizon, +scarce so large as the crown of my hat Is it that you mean?" + +"It is, colonel. And small as it seems, there may come trouble from it. +It don't look much now, but in ten minutes time it will be big enough +to spread all over the sky, and over us too." + +"You think so? Why, what is it, Hernandez? El Norte?" + +"I'm sure of it. _Carramba_! I've seen it too often. Trust me, +colonel, we're going to have a storm." + +"In that case we'd better bring to a halt and get under shelter. I see +nothing here that would screen a cat, save yonder clump of dwarf oaks. +In a way it'll keep the blast off us, and, as we may as well stay under +it for the night, it will furnish fuel for our fires. Ride back to the +troop. Tell the _alferez_ to bring on the men to yonder grove, and +quickly. Let the tents be pitched there. _Vaya_!" + +The _ci-devant_ cibolero does as directed, going at a gallop; while the +colonel and his adjutant trot on to the clump of blackjacks, standing +some three hundred paces out of the line of march. It was the same +copse that gave shade and concealment to Frank Hamersley and Walt Wilder +on the day preceding. + +On arriving at its edge, which they do before their followers, Uraga and +Roblez see the tracks of the two mules. Not without surprise, and they +exchange some words regarding them. But the fast-darkening sky drives +the subject out of their thoughts, and they occupy themselves in +choosing a spot for pitching the tents. + +Of these there are too--one which Urago owns, the other, found in the +ranche, an old marquee Miranda had carried with him in his flight. This +has been brought along for the accommodation of his sister, whom Uraga +has reason to treat tenderly. + +Both tents are soon set up in the shelter of the black-jacks; the +marquee, as ordered by Uraga, occupied by the female captives. + +The lancers, having hastily dismounted, picket their horses and make +other preparations for the storm, predicted by the ex-cibolero as +something terrific. + +Before long they see his prediction verified to the spirit and the +letter. + +The sky, hitherto shining like a sapphire and blue as a turquoise, +becomes changed to the sombre hue of lead; then darker, as if night had +suddenly descended over the sterile plain. The atmosphere, but a moment +before unpleasantly hot, is now cold as winter; the thermometer is less +than twenty minutes falling over forty degrees--almost to freezing +point! + +It is not night which causes the darkness, nor winter the cold. Both +come from an atmospheric phenomenon peculiar to the table-lands of +Texas, and far more feared by the traveller. It is that called by +Mexicans and styled by the ex-cibolero _El Norte_; by Texans known as +"The Norther." + +Alike dreaded by both. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. + +A CUMBERSOME CAPTIVE. + +Having made prisoner of the peon, and drawn out of him all he is able to +tell, his captors have a difficulty in deciding what to do with him. It +will hamper them to take him along. Still they cannot leave him behind; +and the young Kentuckian is not cruel enough to kill him, though +convinced of his deserving death. + +If left to himself, Walt might settle the question quickly. Indignant +at the Indian's treason, he has now a new reason to dislike him--as a +rival. + +With the ex-Ranger this last weighs little. He is sure of having the +affections of Conchita. He has her heart, with the promise of her hand, +and in his own confiding simplicity has no fear of failure in that +sense--not a pang of jealousy. The idea of having for a rival the +abject creature at his feet, whom he could crush out of existence with +the heel of his horseskin boot, is too ridiculous for him to entertain. +He can laugh it to scorn. + +Not for that would he now put an end to the man's life, but solely from +a sense of outraged justice, with the rough-and-ready retribution to +which, as a Texan Ranger, he has been accustomed. + +His comrade, less prone to acts of high-handed punishment, restrains +him; and the two stand considering what they are to do with their +prisoner, now proving so inconvenient. + +While still undecided a sound reaches their ears causing them to start +and turn pale. It is the trampling of horses; there can be no mistaking +it for aught else. And many of them; not two or three, or half a dozen, +but a whole troop. + +Uraga and his lancers have re-entered the valley! They are riding up to +the ranche! What but this can it be? No other party of horsemen could +be expected in that place. + +And no other thought have the two men hearing the hoof strokes. They +are sure it is the soldiers returning. + +Instinctively they retreat into the house, without taking their prisoner +along with them. Tied, he cannot stir from the spot. If he could it +would make little difference now. Their determination is to defend +themselves, if need be, to the death; and the hut, with its stout timber +walls, is the best place they can think of. It has two doors, opening +front and back, both of heavy slabs--split trunks of the palmilla. They +have been constructed strongly and to shut close, for the nights are +sometimes chilly, and grizzly bears stray around the ranche. + +Hastily shutting to the doors and barring them they take stand, each at +a window, of which there are also two, both being in front. They are +mere apertures in the log wall, and of limited dimensions, but on this +account all the better for their purpose, being large enough to serve as +loopholes through which they can deliver their fire. + +The position is not unfavourable for defence. The cabin stands close to +a cliff, with but passage way behind. In front the ground is open, a +sort of natural lawn leading down to the lake; only here and there a +tree diversifies its smooth surface. Across this anyone approaching +must come, whether they have entered the valley from above or below. On +each flank the facade of the precipice projects outward, so that the +abutting points can be seen from either of the windows; and, as they are +both within rifle range, an assailant attempting to turn the cabin so as +to enter from the back would be exposed to the enfilading fire of those +inside. For security against a surround, the spot could not have been +better chosen, and with anything like a fair proportion between +besiegers and besieged the former would fail. Under the circumstances, +however, there is not likely to be this, and for the two men to attempt +defending themselves would seem the certain sealing of their doom. + +What chance for them to hold the hut against a force of fifty armed +men--soldiers--for if the whole of the troop is returning there is this +number? It may be not all have re-entered the valley--only a party sent +back to bring on the pilferer, who has been missed upon the march. In +that case there will be some chance of withstanding their attack. At +all hazards it is to be withstood. + +What else can the two men do? Surrender, and become the prisoner of +Uraga? Never! They know the relentless ruffian too well, and with too +good reason. After their experience of him they need expect no mercy. +The man who could leave them buried alive to die a lingering death in +the gloomy recesses of a cavern, would be cruel enough not only to kill +but torture them. They have to "go under," anyhow, as the prairie +hunter expresses it, adding, "Ef we must die let's do so, killin' them +as kills us. I'm good for half a score o' them leetle minikin Mexikins, +an' I reck'n you, Frank, kin wipe out as many. We'll make it a bloody +bizness for them afore the last breath leeves our bodies. Air you all +churged an' riddy?" + +"I am," is the response of the Kentuckian, in stern, solemn tones, +showing that he, as the Texan, has made up his mind to "die killing." + +Says the latter, "They'll come out through the trees yonder, where the +path runs in. Let's take the fust as shows, an' drop him dead. Gie me +the chance, Frank. I'm dyin' to try the doctor's gun." + +"By all means do so." + +"You fetch the second out o' his saddle, if a second show. That'll gie +the others a scare, an' keep 'em back a bit, so's we'll hev good time to +get loaded agin." + +All this--both speech and action--has not occupied over two minutes of +time. The rush inside the cabin, the closing of the doors, and taking +stand at the windows, have been done in that haste with which men +retreat from a tiger or flee before a prairie fire. + +And now, having taken all the precautions possible, the two men wait +behind the walls, gun in hand, prepared for the approach of the +assailants--themselves so sheltered by the obscurity inside as not to be +seen from without. + +As yet no enemy has made appearance. No living thing is seen outside, +save the lump of copper-coloured humanity prostrate on the sward, beside +the bag and swag he has been hindered from taking away. Still the shod +hoofs are heard striking against stones, the click sounding clearer and +nearer. They inside the _jacal_ listen with bated breath, but hearts +beating audibly. Hearts filled with anxiety. How could it be else? In +another minute they may expect to engage in a life-and-death conflict-- +for themselves too likely a death one. + +Something more than anxiety stirs within them. Something of +apprehension, perhaps actual fear. If so, not strange; fear, under the +circumstances, excusable, even in the hearts of heroes. Stranger were +it otherwise. + +Whatever their emotions at the moment, they experience a sudden change, +succeeded by a series. The first is surprise. While listening to the +hoof strokes of the horses, all at once it appears to them that these +are not coming down the valley, but up it from below. Is it a sonorous +deception, caused by the sough of the cascade or reverberation from the +rocks? + +More intently they bend their ears, more carefully note the quarter +whence proceeds the sound. Soon to answer the above question, each to +himself, in the negative. Unquestionably it comes from below. + +They have recovered from this, their first surprise, before a second +seizes upon them. Mingling with the horses' tramp they hear voices of +men. So much they might expect; but not such voices. For amidst the +speeches exchanged arise roars of laughter, not such as could come from +the slender gullets of puny Mexicans, nor men of the Spanish race. Nor +does it resemble the savage cachinnation of the Comanche Indians. Its +rough aspirate, and rude, but hearty, tone could only proceed from +Celtic or Anglo-Saxon throats. + +While still wondering at the sound ringing in their ears, a sight comes +before their eyes which but lessens their surprise by changing it into +gladness. Out of the trees at the lower end of the lake a horseman is +seen riding--after him a second. Both so unlike Uraga or any of his +lancers, so different from what they would deem enemies, that the rifles +of Hamersley and the hunter, instead of being aimed to deliver their +fire, are dropped, butts to the ground. + +Before clearing the skirt of timber, the two horsemen make halt--only +for an instant, as if to reconnoitre. They appear surprised at seeing +the hut, and not less at sight of a man lying along the ground in front +of it. For they are near enough to perceive that he is tied hand and +foot, and to note the spilled paraphernalia beside him. + +As they are men not easily to be daunted, the tableau, though it +somewhat mystifies, does not affright or drive them back. Instead, they +advance without the slightest show of fear. And behind the two first +showing themselves follow two others, and two more, till fifty have +filed out of the timber, and ride across the clear ground, heading +direct for the house. + +Clad in rough coats of sombre hue, jeans, blanket, and buckskin, not a +few of them ragged, with hats of all shapes and styles; carrying rifles +in their hands, with revolving pistols and bowie-knives in their belts, +there could be no mistaking them for the gaudily-bedizened troop whose +horses at sunrise of that same day trampled over the same turf. To the +spectators no two cohorts could present a _coup d'oeil_ more dissimilar. +Though about equal in numbers, the two bodies of men were unlike in +everything else--arms, dresses, accoutrements; even their horses having +but slight resemblance. The horsemen late upon the spot would seem +dwarfs beside those now occupying it, who in comparison might be +accounted giants. + +Whatever the impression made upon the young prairie merchant by the +sight of the newly-arrived troop, its effect upon the ex-Ranger might be +compared to a shock of electricity, or the result that succeeds the +inspiration of laughing-gas. + +Long before the first files have reached the centre of the cleared space +he has sprung to the door, pulled the bar back, slammed open the slabs, +almost smashing them apart, and rushed out; when outside sending forth a +shout that causes every rock to re-echo it to the remotest corner of the +valley. It is a grand cry of gladness like a clap of thunder, with its +lightning flash bursting forth from the cloud in which in has been pent +up. + +After it some words spoken more coherently give the key to its jubilant +tone. + +"Texas Rangers! Ye've jest come in time. Thank the Lord!" + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT. + +OLD ACQUAINTANCES. + +Not necessary to say that the horsemen riding up to the ranche are +Captain Haynes and his company of Rangers. They have come up the canon +guided by Barbato. + +Even more than they is the renegade surprised at seeing a house in that +solitary spot. It was not there on his last passing through the valley +in company with his red-skinned confederates, the Tenawas, which he did +some twelve months before. Equally astonished is he to see Walt Wilder +spring out from the door, though he hails the sight with a far different +feeling. At the first glance he recognises the gigantic individual who +so heroically defended the waggon-train, and the other behind--for +Hamersley has also come forth--as the second man who retreated along +with him. Surely they are the two who were entombed! + +The unexpected appearance produces on the Mexican an effect almost +comical, though not to him. On the contrary, he stands appalled, under +the influence of a dark superstitious terror, his only movement being to +repeatedly make the sign of the Cross, all the while muttering Ave +Marias. + +Under other circumstances his ludicrous behaviour would have elicited +laughter from the Rangers--peals of it. But their eyes are not on him, +all being turned to the two men who have issued out of the cabin and are +coming on towards the spot where they have pulled up. + +Several of them have already recognised their old comrade, and in +hurried speech communicate the fact to the others. + +"Walt Wilder!" are the words that leap from a dozen pairs of lips, while +they, pronouncing the name with glances aghast, look as if a spectre had +suddenly appeared to them. + +An apparition, however, that is welcome; altogether different to the +impression it has produced upon their guide. + +Meanwhile, Wilder advances to meet them; as he comes on, keeping up a +fire of exclamatory phrases, addressed to Hamersley, who is close +behind. + +"Air this chile awake, or only dreaming? Look thar, Frank! That's Ned +Haynes, my old captin'. An' thar's Nat Cully, an' Jim Buckland. Durn +it, thar's the hul strenth o' the kumpany." + +Walt is now close to their horses' heads, and the rangers, assured it is +himself and not his ghost, are still stricken with surprise. Some of +them turn towards the Mexican for explanation. They suppose him to have +lied in his story about their old comrade having been closed up in a +cave, though with what motive they cannot guess. The man's appearance +does not make things any clearer. He still stands affrighted, +trembling, and repeating his Paternosters. But now in changed tone, for +his fear is no longer of the supernatural. Reason reasserting itself, +he has given up the idea of disembodied spirits, convinced that the two +figures coming forward are real flesh and blood; the same whose blood he +assisted in spilling, and whose flesh he lately believed to be decaying +in the obscurity of a cave. He stands appalled as ever; no more with +unearthly awe, but the fear of an earthly retribution--a terrible one, +which he is conscious of having provoked by the cruel crime in which he +participated. + +Whatever his fears and reflections they are not for the time intruded +upon. The rangers, after giving a glance to him, turn to the two men +who are now at their horses' heads; and, springing from their saddles, +cluster around them with questions upon their tongues and eager +expectations in their eyes. + +The captain and Cully are the two first who interrogate. + +"Can we be sure it's you, Walt?" is the interrogatory put by his old +officer. "Is it yourself?" + +"Darn me ef I know, cap. Jess now I ain't sure o' anythin', arter +what's passed. Specially meetin' you wi' the rest o' the boys. Say, +cap, what's fetched ye out hyar?" + +"You." + +"Me!" + +"Yes; we came to bury you." + +"Yis, hoss," adds Cully, confirming the captain's statement. "We're on +the way to gie burial to your bones, not expecting to find so much flesh +on 'em. For that purpiss we've come express all the way from Peecawn +Crik. An' as I know'd you had a kindly feelin' for yur ole shootin'- +iron, I've brought that along to lay it in the grave aside o' ye." + +While speaking, Cully slips out of his saddle and gives his old comrade +a true prairie embrace, at the same time handing him his gun. + +Neither the words nor the weapon makes things any clearer to Walt, but +rather add to their complication. With increased astonishment he cries +out,-- + +"Geehorum! Am I myself, or somebody else? Is't a dream, or not? +That's my ole shootin' stick, sartin. I left it over my hoss, arter +cuttin' the poor critter's throat. Maybe you've got him too? I shedn't +now be surprised at anythin'. Come, Nat; don't stan' shilly-shallyin', +but tell me all about it. Whar did ye git the gun?" + +"On Peecawn Crik. Thar we kim acrost a party o' Tenawa Kimanch, unner a +chief they call Horned Lizart, o' the whom ye've heern. He han't no +name now, seein' he's rubbed out, wi' the majority of his band. We did +that. The skrimmage tuk place on the crik, whar we foun' them camped. +It didn't last long; an' arter 'twere eended, lookin' about among thar +bodies, we foun' thar beauty o' a chief wi' this gun upon his parson, +tight clutched in the death-grup. Soon's seeing it I know'd 'twar +yourn; an' in coorse surspected ye'd had some mischance. Still, the gun +kedn't gie us any informashun o' how you'd parted wi' it. By good luck, +'mong the Injuns we'd captered a Mexikin rennygade--thet thing ye see +out thar. He war joined in Horned Lizart's lot, an' he'd been wi' 'em +some time. So we put a loose larzette roun' his thrapple, an' on the +promise o' its bein' tightened, he tolt us the hul story; how they hed +attackted an' skuttled a carryvan, an' all 'bout entoomin' you an' a +kimrade--this young fellur, I take it--who war wi' ye. Our bizness out +hyar war to look up yur bones an' gie 'em a more Christyun kind o' +beril. We were goin' for that cave, the rennygade guidin' us. He said +he ked take us a near cut up the gully through which we've just come-- +arter ascendin' one o' the heads o' the Loosyvana Rod. Near cut! +Doggone it, he's been righter than I reck'n he thort o'. Stead o' your +bones thar's yur body, wi' as much beef on't as ever. Now I've told our +story, we want yourn, the which appears to be a darned deal more o' a +unexplainable mistry than ourn. So open yur head, ole hoss, and let's +have it." + +Brief and graphic as is Cully's narrative, it takes Walt still less time +to put his former associates in possession of what has happened to +himself and Hamersley, whom he introduces to them as the companion of +his perilous adventures--the second of the two believed to have been +buried alive! + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY NINE. + +MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS. + +The arrival of the Rangers at that particular time is certainly a +contingency of the strangest kind. Ten minutes later, and they would +have found the jacal deserted; for Hamersley and Wilder had made up +their minds to set off, taking the traitor along with them. The Texans +would have discovered signs to tell of the place having been recently +occupied by a large body of men, and from the tracks of shod horses +these skilled trailers would have known the riders were not Indians. +Still, they would have made delay around the ranche and encamped in the +valley for that night. This had been their intention, their horses +being jaded and themselves wearied making their way up the canon. +Though but ten miles in a direct line, it was well nigh twenty by the +winding of the stream--a good, even difficult, day's journey. + +On going out above they would have seen the trail of Uraga's party, and +known it to be made by Mexican soldiers. But, though these were their +sworn foemen, they might not have been tempted to follow them. The +start of several hours, their own animals in poor condition, the +likelihood of a larger force of the enemy being near--all this would +have weighed with them, and they would have continued on to the cave +whither the renegade was guiding them--a direction altogether different. +A very singular coincidence, then, their coming up at that exact +instant. It seemed the hand of Providence opportunely extended; and in +this light Hamersley looked upon it, as also the ex-Ranger. + +Briefly as may be they make known to the new-comers all that had +transpired, or as much as for the time needs to be told. Then appeal to +them for assistance. + +By the Texans their cause is instantly espoused--unanimously, without +one dissenting voice. On the contrary, all are uttered with an energy +and warmth that give Hamersley a world of hope. Here are friends, whose +enemies are his own. And they are in strength sufficient to pursue +Uraga's troop and destroy it. They may overtake it that very night; if +not, on the morrow. And if not then, they will pursue it to the borders +of New Mexico--to the banks of the Del Norte itself. + +His heart is no more depressed. The chance of rescuing his friends from +death and saving his betrothed from dishonour is no longer hopeless. +There is now a probability--almost a certainty--of its success. Backed +by Wilder, he proposes instant pursuit. + +To the Texans the proposal is like an invitation to a ball or frontier +fandango. Excitement is the breath of their life, and a fight with +Mexicans their joy; a pursuit of these their supremest delight. Such as +this, moreover, having for its object not only the defeat of a hated +foe, but the recovery of captives, beautiful women, as their old comrade +Walt enthusiastically describes them, is the very thing to rouse the +Rangers to energetic action, rekindling in their hearts the spirit of +frontier chivalry--the same which led them to become Rangers. + +Notwithstanding their wild enthusiasm they do not proceed rashly. +Haynes, their captain, is an old "Indian fighter," one of the most +experienced chiefs of that Texan border warfare, so long continued. + +Checking their impatience to pursue at once, he counsels prudence and +deliberate action. Cully also recommends this course. + +"But why should we lose a moment?" inquires the hot-blooded Kentuckian, +chafing at the delay; "they cannot yet be more than ten miles off. We +may overtake them before sunset." + +"That's just what we mustn't do," rejoins the Ranger chief. "Suppose +they get sight of us before we're near? On the naked plain, you say it +is, they'd be sure to do that. What then? Their horses, I take it, are +fresh, compared with ours. They might gallop off and leave us gazing +after them like so many April fools. They'd have time, too, to take +their prisoners along with them." + +This last speech makes an impression upon all. Even Hamersley no longer +offers opposition. + +"Let the sun go down," continues the Texan captain; "that's just what we +want. Since they're bound due west I reckon we can easily keep on their +trail, clear night or dark one. Here's Nat Cully can do that; and if +our friend Walt hasn't lost his old skill he can be trusted for the +same." + +The Ranger and ex-Ranger, both standing by, remain modestly silent. + +"Our plan will be," pursues Haynes, "to approach their camp under cover +of night, surround, and so make certain of them. They'll have a camp; +and these Mexican soldiers are such greenhorns, they're sure to keep big +fires burning, if it is only to give them light for their card-playing. +The blaze'll guide us to their squatting-ground, wherever they may make +it." + +The captain's scheme seems so rational that no one opposes it. Walt +Wilder in words signifies assent to it, and Hamersley, with, some +reluctance, is at length constrained to do the same. + +It is resolved to remain two hours longer in the valley, and then start +for the upper plain. That will give time to recruit their horses on the +nutritious _gramma_ grass, as themselves on the game they have killed +before entering the canon. This hangs plentifully over the horns of +their saddles, in the shape of wild turkeys, haunches of venison, and +pieces of bear meat. + +The fire on the cabin hearth and those kindled by the soldiers outside +are still smouldering. They are quickly replenished, and the abandoned +cooking utensils once more called into use. But pointed saplings, and +the iron ramrods of their rifles--the Ranger's ordinary spit--are in +greater demand, and broiling is the style of _cuisine_ most resorted to. + +The turkeys are plucked and singed, the venison and bear meat cut into +collops, and soon two score pieces are sputtering in the flames of +half-a-dozen bivouac fires, while the horses, unbridled, are led out +upon their lariats, and given to the grass. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY. + +CROSS-QUESTIONING. + +While the Rangers are preparing for their Homeric repast, a group +gathered in front of the jacal is occupied with an affair altogether +different. + +The individuals most conspicuous in it are the Texan captain, the guide +Cully, Walt Wilder, and the young Kentuckian, though several besides +take part in the conference. + +Two others are concerned in it, though not forming figures in the group. +They are some paces apart, lying on the grass, both bound. These are +the traitor Manuel and the renegade Barbato. + +Both Indian and Mexican appear terribly cowed and crestfallen, for both +feel themselves in what Cully or Walt Wilder would call a "bad fix." +They are, in truth, in a dangerous predicament; for, now that Walt and +the Kentuckian have turned up alive, what with the story they have to +tell, added to that already known to the Rangers--comparing notes +between the two parties--new light is let in, floods of it, falling upon +spots hitherto dark, and clearing up points confused and obscure. The +two culprits are again cross-examined, and, with pistols held to their +heads, forced to still further confession. + +The peon repeats what he has already told, without adding much, not +having much to add. With the renegade it is different. He has kept +much back concerning the part played by Uraga and his lieutenant in the +affair of the destroyed waggon train. + +But with Hamersley, who speaks his own native tongue, now +cross-questioning him, and Walt Wilder to extract his testimony by the +persuasive influence of a knife-blade glistening in his eyes, he goes +further, and admits the unnatural confederation that existed between the +white and red robbers--the Mexican colonel and Comanche chief. In +short, to save his life, he makes a much cleaner breast of it than +before, this time only keeping back his own special guiltiness in being +their willing go-between. + +While he is repeating his confession, all the other Rangers gather +around the group to listen to him. They stand silent, with bated breath +and brows contracted. + +When at length they become possessed of the tale in all its diabolical +atrocity, all its completeness, their anger, already excited, become +almost ungovernable; and it is as much as their captain can do to +restrain them from at once starting in pursuit. Some fling their spits +in the fire with the meat upon them still untouched; others drop the +pieces roasted and partly eaten; most demanding to be led on. + +The counsels of the more prudent prevail; and again tranquillised, they +recover the morsels of meat and continue their repast. + +Not long, till they have reason to regret the delay and deem the +prudence misplaced. Though this arises not from any mistake on the part +of their counsellors, but from a circumstance entirely accidental. + +While they are still in the midst of their meal, the sky, all day long +of cerulean clearness, becomes suddenly clouded. Not as this term is +understood in the ordinary sense, but absolutely black, as if the sun +were instantly eclipsed, or had dropped altogether out of the firmament. +Scarce ten minutes after its commencement the obscurity has reached +completeness--that of a total solar eclipse or as in a starless night. + +Though troubled at the change, none of the Rangers are dismayed by it, +or even surprised. The old prairie men are the least astonished, since +they know what it means. At the first portentous sign Cully is heard +crying out,-- + +"A hurricane!--A norther!" + +Wat Wilder has observed it at the same time, and confirms the +prognostic. This is before any of the others have noticed aught +peculiar in the aspect of the sky, and when there is just the selvedge +of a cloud seen above the cliff. + +All Texans understand the significance of the word "norther"--a storm or +tornado, usually preceded by a hot, stifling atmosphere, with drifting +dust, accompanied by sheet or forked lightning and claps of terrific +thunder, followed by wind and rain, sometimes hail or sleet, as if the +sluices of heaven were drawn open, ending in a continued blast of more +regular direction, but chill as though coming direct from the Arctic +regions. + +In less than ten minutes after its first sign, the tempest is around +them. Down into the valley pours the dust, swept from the surface of +the upper plain, along with it the leaves and stalks of the wild +wormwood, with other weeds of the desert. Simultaneously the wind, at +first in low sighs, like the sound of a distant sea; then roaring +against the rocks, and swooping down among the trees, whose branches go +crashing before its blast. Then succeed lightning, thunder, and rain-- +the last falling, not in drops, but in sheets, as if spilled from a +spout. + +For shelter the Rangers rush inside the ranche, leaving their horses to +take care of themselves. The latter stand cowering under the trees, +neighing with affright--the mules among them giving vent to their +plaintive hinney. There are dogs, too, that howl and bark, with other +sounds that come from farther off--from the wild denizens of the +wilderness; cries of the cougar in contralto, wolf-barkings in +mezzo-soprano, screaming of eagles in shrill treble, snorting of bears +in basso, and hooting of scared owls in lugubrious tone, to be likened +only to the wailing of agonised spirits in Purgatory. + +Crowded within the hut, so thickly as to have scarce standing room, the +Rangers wait for the calming of the tempest. They submit with greater +resignation, knowing it will not long continue. It is far from being +their first experience of a "norther." + +The only thought that troubles them is the delay--being hindered from +setting forth on the pursuit. True, the party to be pursued will be +stayed by the same obstruction. The soldiers will have to halt during +the continuance of the storm, so that the distance between will remain +the same. + +But then their tracks will be obliterated--every vestige of them. The +wind, the rain, and dust will do this. How is their trail to be taken +up? "That will be easy enough," says one, whose self-esteem is greater +than his prairie experience. He adds: "As they're going due west, we +can't make any mistake by steering the same way." + +"How little he knows about it!" is the muttered remark exchanged between +Wilder and Cully. For they know that the deflection of a single point +upon the prairies--above all, upon the Staked Plain--will leave the +traveller, like a ship at sea without chart or compass, to steer by +guesswork, or go drifting at sheer chance. + +To most, the consoling thought is that the Mexicans will halt near, and +stay till the storm is over. They have some baggage--a tent or two, +with other camp equipage. This is learnt from the Indian; and +Hamersley, as also Wilder, have themselves made note of it. + +To the returning soldiers there can be no great reason for haste, and +they will not likely resume their march till the sky is quite clear. +Therefore they will gain nothing in distance. + +Satisfied by such assurance given by the sager ones of the party, the +Rangers remain inside the hut, on the roof of which the rain dashes +down, without experiencing any keen pangs of impatience. Some of them +even jest--their jokes having allusion to the close quarters in which +they are packed, and other like trifles incidental to the situation. + +Walt Wilder for a while gives way to this humour. Whatever may be the +danger of Don Valerian and the others, he does not believe his +sweetheart much exposed. The little brown-skinned damsel is not in the +proscribed list; and the ex-Ranger, strong in the confidence of having +her heart, with the promise of her hand, has less reason to be +apprehensive about the consequences. Besides, he is now in the midst of +his former associates, and the exchange of new histories and old +reminiscences is sufficient to fill up the time, and keep him from +yielding to impatient longing. + +Of all Hamersley alone is unhappy. Despite the assurances spoken, the +hopes felt, there is yet apprehension for the future. The position, +however, is endurable, and only passes this point as a thought comes +into his mind--a memory that flashes across his brain, as if a bullet +had struck him between the temples. + +It causes him to spring suddenly to his feet, for he has been seated, at +the same time wringing from him a cry of peculiar signification. + +"What is it, Mr Hamersley?" asks the Ranger Captain, who is close by +his side. + +"My God!" exclaims the Kentuckian. "I'd forgotten. We must be off at +once, or we shall be too late--too late!" + +Saying this, he makes a dash for the door, hurtling his way through the +crowd close standing between. + +The Rangers regard him with glances of astonishment, and doubts about +his sanity. Some of them actually think he has gone mad! + +One alone understands him--Walt Wilder; though he, too, seems demented. +With like incoherent speech and frantic gesture, he follows Hamersley to +the door. + +Both rush outside; as they do so calling back, "Come on! come on!" + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY ONE. + +INTO THE STORM. + +Lightning flashes, thunder rolls, wind bellows, and rain pours down in +sheets, as if from sluices; for the storm is still raging as furiously +as ever. Into it have rushed the two, regardless of all. + +The Texans are astounded--for a time some of them still believing both +men mad. But soon it is seen they are acting with method, making +straight for the horses, while shouting and gesticulating for the +Rangers to come after. + +These do not need either the shouts or signs to be repeated. Walt's old +comrades know he must have reason, and, disregarding the tempest, they +strike out after. Their example is electric, and in ten seconds the +jacal is empty. + +In ten more they are among their horses, drawing in the trail-ropes and +bridling them. + +Before they can get into their saddles they are made aware of what it is +all about. + +Hamersley and Walt, already mounted and waiting, make known to the +Ranger captain the cause of their hurried action, apparently so +eccentric. A few words suffice. + +"The way out," says the Kentuckian, "is up yonder ravine, along the bed +of the stream that runs through. When it rains as it's doing now, then +the water suddenly rises and fills up the channel, leaving no room, no +road. If we don't get out quick we may be kept here for days." + +"Yis, boys!" adds Wilder, "we've got to climb the stairs right smart, +rain or shine, storm or no storm. Hyar's one off for the upper storey, +fast as his critter kin carry him." + +While speaking, he jobs his heels against the ribs of his horse--for he +is now mounted on one, as also Hamersley--supernumeraries of the Texan +troop. Then, dashing off, with the Kentuckian by his side, they are +soon under the trees and out of sight. Not of the Rangers, who, +themselves now in the saddle, spur after in straggling line, riding at +top speed. + +Once again the place is deserted, for, despite their precipitate +leave-taking, the Texans have carried the prisoners along with them. No +living thing remains by the abandoned dwelling. The only sign of human +occupation is the smoke that ascends through its kitchen chimney, and +from the camp fires outside, these gradually getting extinguished by the +downpour. + +Still the lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, the wind bellows, and +the rain pours down as from dishes. But not to deter the Texans, who, +drenched to their shirts, continue to ride rapidly on up the valley +road. There is in reality no road, only a trail made by wild animals, +occasionally trodden by the domesticated ones belonging to Colonel +Miranda; later still by Uraga's lancers. + +Soaked by the rain, it has become a bed of mud, into which the horses of +the Rangers sink to their saddle girths, greatly impeding their +progress. Whip and spur as they may, they make but slow time. The +animals baulk, plunge, stumble, some going headforemost into the mire, +others striking their shoulders against the thick-standing trees, doing +damage to themselves and their riders. For with the norther still +clouding the sky, it is almost dark as night. + +Other dangers assail them from falling trees. Some go down bodily +before the blast, while from others great branches are broken off by the +wind, and strike crashing across the path. One comes near crushing half +a dozen horsemen under its broad, spreading avalanche of boughs. + +Notwithstanding all, they struggle on fearlessly, and fast as they can, +Hamersley and Wilder at their head, Haynes, Cully, and the best mounted +of the troop close following. Walt and the Kentuckian well know the +way. Otherwise, in the buffeting of that terrible storm, they might +fail to find it. + +They succeed in keeping it, on to the head of the valley, where the +stream comes in between the cliffs. A tiny runlet as they last looked +upon it--a mere brook, pellucid and sparkling as the sand on its bed. +Now it is a torrent, deep, red and roaring; only white on its surface, +where the froth sweeps on, clouting the cliffs on each side. Against +these it has risen quite six feet, and still creeps upward. It has +filled the channel from side to side, leaving not an inch of roadway +between the river and rock. + +To wade it would be impossible; to attempt swimming it destruction. The +staunchest steed could not stem its surges. Even the huge river-horse +of Africa would be swept off his feet and tossed to the surface like one +of its froth-flakes. + +Arriving on its edge, Hamersley sees this at a glance. As he checks up +his horse, the exclamation that leaps from his lips more resembles the +anguished cry of a man struggling in the torrent than one seated safely +in a saddle on its bank. + +After it, he gives utterance to two words in sad despairing tone, twice +repeated,-- + +"Too late--too late!" + +Again repeated by Walt Wilder, and twenty times again by a score of the +Rangers who have ridden up, and reined their horses crowdingly behind. + +There is no response save echo from the rocks, scarce audible through +the hoarse sough of the swollen surging stream, that rolls relentlessly +by, seeming to say, as in scorn, "Ford me! swim across me if you can!" + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY TWO. + +A SHORT SHRIFT. + +Difficult--indeed, impossible--for pen to describe the scene consequent +upon the arrival of the Rangers by the banks of the swollen stream, and +finding it unfordable. + +Imagine a man who has secured passage by a ship bound for some far-off +foreign land, and delayed by some trifling affair, comes upon the pier +to see the hawser cast off, the plank drawn ashore, the sails spread, +himself left hopelessly behind! + +His chagrin might be equal to that felt by the Texans, but slight +compared with what harrows the hearts of Hamersley and Walt Wilder. To +symbolise theirs, it must be a man missing his ship homeward bound, with +sweetheart, wife, child awaiting him at the end of the voyage, and in a +port from which vessels take departure but "few and far between." + +These two, better than any of the Texans, understand the obstruction +that has arisen, in the same proportion as they are aggrieved by it. +Too well do they comprehend its fatal import. Not hours, but whole +days, may elapse before the flood subsides, the stream can be forded, +the ravine ascended, and the pursuit continued. + +Hours--days! A single day--an hour--may seal the fate of those dear to +them. The hearts of both are sad, their bosoms racked with anguish, as +they sit in their saddles with eyes bent on the turbid stream, which +cruelly forbids fording it. + +In different degree and from a different cause the Texans also suffer. +Some only disappointment, but others real chagrin. These last men, +whose lives have been spent fighting their Mexican foemen, hating them +from the bottom of their hearts. They are those who knew the +unfortunate Fanning and the lamented Bowie, who gave his name to their +knives; some of themselves having escaped from the red massacre of +Goliad and the savage butchery of the Alamo. + +Ever since they have been practising the _lex talionis_--seeking +retaliation, and oft-times finding it. Perhaps too often wreaking their +vengeance on victims that might be innocent. Now that guilty ones--real +Mexican soldiers in uniform, such as ruthlessly speared and shot down +their countrymen at Goliad and San Antonio--now that a whole troop of +these have but the hour before been within reach--almost striking +distance--it is afflicting, maddening, to think they may escape. + +And the more reflecting on the reason, so slight and accidental--a +shower of rain swelling a tiny stream. For all this, staying their +pursuit as effectively as if a sea of fire separated them from the foe, +so despised and detested. + +The lightning still flashes, the thunder rolls, the wind bellows, and +the rain pours down. + +No use staying any longer by the side of the swollen stream, to be +tantalised by its rapid, rushing current, and mocked by its foam-flakes +dancing merrily along. + +Rather return to the forsaken ranche, and avail themselves of such +shelter as it may afford. + +In short, there seems no alternative; and, yielding to the necessity, +they rein round, and commence the backward march, every eye glancing +gloomily, every brow overcast. + +They are all disappointed, most of them surly as bears that had been +shot in the head, and have scratched the place to a sore. They are just +in the humour to kill anyone, or anything, that should chance in their +way. + +But there is no one, and nothing; and, in the absence of an object to +spend their spite upon, some counsel wreaking it on their captives--the +traitor and renegade. + +Never during life were these two men nearer their end. To all +appearance, in ten minutes more both will be dangling at the end of a +rope suspended from a limb of a tree. + +They are saved by a circumstance for them at least lucky, if unfortunate +for some others. + +Just as a half-score of the Rangers have clumped together under a +spreading pecan-tree, intending to hang them upon one of its branches, a +horse is heard to neigh. Not one of their own, but an animal some way +off the track, amid the trees. The hail is at once responded to by the +steeds they are bestriding; and is promptly re-answered, not by one +horse, but three neighing simultaneously. + +A strange thing this, that calls for explanation. What horses can be +there, save their own? And none of the Rangers have ridden in the +direction whence the "whighering" proceeds. + +A dozen of them do so now; before they have gone far, finding three +horses standing under the shadow of a large live oak, with three men +mounted on their backs, who endeavour to keep concealed behind its broad +buttressed trunk. + +In vain. Guided by the repeated neighing and continuous tramp of their +horses, the Rangers ride up, close around, and capture them. + +Led out into the light, the Texans see before them three men in soldier +garb--the uniform of Mexican lancers. It is the corporal squad sent +back by Uraga to bring on the truant traitor. + +Of their errand the Rangers know nought, and nothing care. Enough that +three of their hated foemen are in their hands, their hostility +intensified by the events of the hour. + +No more fuel is needed to fire them up. Their vengeance demands a +victim, and three have offered ready to hand. + +As they ride back to the road, they leave behind them a tableau, telling +of a spectacle just passed--one having a frightful finale. From a large +limb of the live oak, extending horizontally, hang three men, the +Mexican lancers. They are suspended by the neck, dangling, dead! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY THREE. + +A SPLIT TRAIL. + +The Texans ride on to the ranche. They still chafe at being thwarted of +a vengeance; by every man of them keenly felt, after learning the +criminality of the Lancer Colonel. Such unheard of atrocity could not +help kindling within their breasts indignation of the deepest kind. + +The three soldiers strung up to the trees have been its victims. + +But this episode, instead of appeasing the executioners, has only roused +them, as tigers who have tasted blood hindered from banqueting on flesh. + +They quite comprehend the position in which the norther has placed them. +On the way Hamersley and Wilder, most discomforted of all, have made +them aware of it. The swollen stream will prevent egress from the +valley till it subsides. + +There is no outlet save above and below, and both these are now +effectually closed, shutting them up as in a strong-walled prison. On +each side the precipice is unscalable. Even if men might ascend, horses +could not be taken along; and on such a chase it would be hopeless for +them to set out afoot. + +But men could not go up the cliff. + +"A cat kedn't climb it," says Walt, who during his sojourn in the valley +has explored every inch of it. "We've got to stay hyar till the flood +falls. I reckon no one kin be sorrier to say so than this chile. But +thar's no help for 't." + +"Till the flood falls? When will that be?" + +No one can answer this, not even Wilder himself. And with clouded +brows, sullen, dispirited, they return to the jacal. + +Two days they stay there, chafing with angry impatience. In their anger +they are ready for the most perilous enterprise. But, although bitterly +cursing the sinister chance that hinders pursuit, deeming each hour a +day, they can do nought save wait till the swollen stream subsides. + +They watch it with eager solicitude, constantly going to the bank to +examine it, as the captain of a ship consults his weather-glass to take +steps for the safety of his vessel. All the time one or another is +riding to, or returning from, the head of the valley, to bring back +report of how the subsidence progresses. + +And long ere the stream has returned to its regular channel, they plunge +their horses into it, breasting a current that almost sweeps them off +their feet. But the Texan horses are strong, as their riders are +skilful; the obstacle is surmounted, and the Rangers at length escape +from their prolonged and irksome imprisonment. + +It is mid-day, as filing up the pass, they reach the higher level of the +Llano. Not many moments do they remain there; only long enough for the +rear files to get out of the gorge, when those in front move forward +across the plain, guided by the two best trackers in Texas, Nat Cully +and Walt Wilder. + +At first there is no following of a trail, since there is none visible. +Wind, rain, and drifted dust have obliterated every mark made by the +returning soldiers. Not a sign is left to show the pursuers the path +Uraga's troop has taken. + +They know it should be westward, and strike out without waiting to look +for tracks. + +For the first ten or twelve miles they ride at a rapid rate, often going +in a gallop. Their horses, rested and fresh, enable them to do so. +They are only stayed in their pace by the necessity of keeping a +straight course--not so easy upon a treeless plain, when the sun is not +visible in the sky. Unluckily for them, the day is cloudy, which +renders it more difficult. Still, with the twin buttes behind--so long +as these are in sight they keep their course with certainty; then, as +their summits sink below the level of the plain, another landmark looms +up ahead, well known by Walt Wilder and Hamersley. It is the black-jack +grove where, two days before, they made their midday meal. + +The Rangers ride towards it, with the intention also to make a short +halt there and snatch a scrap from their haversacks. + +When upon its edge, before entering among the trees, they see that which +decides them to stay even less time than intended--the hoof-prints of +half a hundred horses! + +Going inside the copse, they observe other signs that speak of an +encampment. Reading these with care, they can tell that it has not long +been broken up. The ashes of the bivouac fires are scarce cold, while +the hoof-marks of the horses show fresh on the desert dust, for the time +converted into mud. Wilder and Cully declare that but one day can have +passed since the lancers parted from the spot; for there is no question +as to who have been bivouacking among the black-jacks. + +A day--only a day! It will take full five before the soldiers can cross +the Sierras and enter the valley of the Del Norte. There may still be a +chance of overtaking them. All the likelier, since, cumbered with their +captives, and not knowing they are pursued, they may be proceeding at a +leisurely pace. + +Cheered by this hope, and freshly stimulated, the Texans do not even +dismount, but, spurring forth upon the plain, again ride rapidly on, +munching a mouthful as they go. + +They are no longer delayed by any doubt as to course. The trail of the +lancer troop is now easily discernible, made since the storm passed +over. Any one of the Rangers could follow it in a fast gallop. + +At this pace they all go, only at intervals drawing in to a walk, to +breathe their blown steeds for a fresh spurt. + +Even after night has descended they continue on, a clear moonlight +enabling them to lift the trail. + +As next morning's sun breaks over the Llano Estacado they descend its +western slope into the valley of the Rio Pecos. + +Traversing its bottom, of no great breadth, they reach the crossing of +the old Spanish trail, from Santa Fe to San Antonio de Bejar. + +Fording the stream, on its western bank, they discover signs which cause +them to come to a halt, for some time perplexing them. Nothing more +than the tracks of the troop they have been all the while pursuing, +which entered the river on its left side. Now on its right they are +seen the same, up the sloping causeway of the bank. But on reaching the +bottom, a little aback from the water's edge, the trail splits into two +distinct ramifications, one continuing westward towards the Sierras, the +other turning north along the stream. The first shows the hoof-marks of +nigh forty horses, the second only ten or twelve. + +Unquestionably the Mexican colonel had here divided his troop, the main +body proceeding due west, the detachment striking up stream. + +The route taken by this last would be the old Spanish road for Santa Fe, +the first party proceeding on to Albuquerque. + +For a time the pursuing Texans are at fault, as foxhounds by a fence, +over which Reynard has doubled back to mislead them. They have halted +at the bifurcation of the trails, and sit in their saddles, considering +which of the two they should take. + +Not all remain mounted. Cully and Wilder have flung themselves to the +ground, and, in bent attitudes, with eyes close to the surface, are +scanning the hoof-marks of the Mexican horses. + +The others debate which of the two troops they ought to take after, or +whether they should themselves separate and pursue both. This course is +opposed by a majority, and it is at length almost decided to continue on +after the main body, which, naturally enough, they suppose to have Uraga +at its head, with the captives in keeping. + +In the midst of their deliberations a shout calls the attention of all, +concentrating it on Walt Wilder. For it is he who has uttered the cry. +The ex-Ranger is seen upon his knees, his great body bent forward, with +his chin almost touching the ground. His eyes are upon the hoof-marks +of a horse--one of those that went off with the smaller detachment along +the river's bank. + +That he has identified the track is evident from the speech succeeding +his ejaculation. + +"Yur hoss, Hamersley! Hyar's his futprint, sure. An', as he's rud by +Urager, the scoundrel's goed this way to a sartinty. Eqwally sartin, +he's tuk the captives along wi' him." + +On hearing their old comrade declare his prognosis, the Rangers wheel +their horses and ride towards him. + +Before reaching the spot where he is still prospecting, they see him +give a sudden spring forward, like a frog leaping over meadow sward, +then pause again, scrutinising a track. + +A second examination, similar to the first, tells of another discovery. +In like manner explained, by his speech close following,-- + +"An' hyar's the track o' the mare--the yeller mustang as war rid by the +saynorita. An', durn me, that's the hoof-mark o' the mule as carried my +Concheter. Capting Haynes! Kumrades! No use botherin' 'bout hyar any +longer. Them we want to kum up wi' are goed north 'long this trail as +leads by the river bank." + +Not another word is needed. The Rangers, keen of apprehension and quick +to arrive at conclusions, at once perceive the justness of those come to +by their old comrade. They make no opposition to his proposal to +proceed after the smaller party. + +Instead, all signify assent; and in ten seconds after they are strung +out into a long line, going at a gallop, their horses' heads turned +northward up the right bank of the Rio Pecos. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR. + +A SYLVAN SCENE. + +Perhaps no river on all the North American continent is marked with +interest more romantic than that which attaches to the Rio Grande of +Mexico. On its banks has been enacted many a tragic scene--many an +episode of Indian and border war--from the day when the companions of +Cortez first unfurled Spain's _pabellon_ till the Lone Star flag of +Texas, and later still the banner of the Stars and Stripes, became +mirrored on its waves. + +Heading in the far-famed "parks" of the Rocky Mountains, under the name +of Rio Bravo del Norte, it runs in a due southerly direction between the +two main ranges of the Mexican "Sierre Madre;" then, breaking through +the Eastern Cordillera, it bends abruptly, continuing on in a +south-easterly course till it espouses ocean in the great Mexican Gulf. + +Only its lower portion is known as the "Rio Grande;" above it is the +"Bravo del Norte." + +The Pecos is its principal tributary, which, after running through +several degrees of latitude parallel to the main stream, at length +unites with it below the great bend. + +In many respects the Pecos is itself a peculiar river. For many hundred +miles it courses through a wilderness rarely traversed by man, more +rarely by men claiming to be civilised. Its banks are only trodden by +the savage, and by him but when going to or returning from a raid. For +this turbid stream is a true river of the desert, having on its left +side the sterile tract of the Llano Estacado, on its right dry table +plains that lead up to the Sierras, forming the "divide" between its +waters and those of the Bravo del Norte. + +On the side of the Staked Plain the Pecos receives but few affluents, +and these of insignificant character. From the Sierras, however, +several streams run into it through channels deeply cut into the plain, +their beds being often hundreds of feet below its level. While the +plateau above is often arid and treeless, the bottom lands of these +tributaries show a rich luxuriant vegetation, here and there expanding +into park-like meadows, with groves and copses interspersed. + +On the edge of one of these affluents, known as the _Arroyo Alamo_ +(Anglice "Cottonwood Creek"), two tents are seen standing--one a square +marquee, the other a "single pole," of the ordinary conical shape. + +Near by a half score of soldiers are grouped around a bivouac fire, some +broiling bits of meat on sapling spits, others smoking corn-husk +cigarettes, all gaily chatting. One is some fifty paces apart, under a +spreading tree, keeping guard over two prisoners, who, with legs lashed +and hands pinioned, lie prostrate upon the ground. + +As the soldiers are in the uniform of Mexican lancers, it is needless to +say they belong to the troop of Colonel Uraga. Superfluous to add that +the two prisoners under the tree are Don Valerian Miranda and the +doctor. + +Uraga himself is not visible, nor his adjutant, Roblez. They are inside +the conical hut, the square one being occupied by Adela and her maid. + +After crossing the Pecos, Uraga separated his troop into two parties. +For some time he has sent the main body, under command of his alferez, +direct to Albuquerque, himself and the adjutant turning north with the +captives and a few files as escort and guard. Having kept along the +bank of the Pecos till reaching the Alamo, he turned up the creek, and +is now _en bivouac_ in its bottom, some ten miles above the confluence +of the streams. + +A pretty spot has he selected for the site of his encampment. A verdant +mead, dotted with groves of leafy _alamo_ trees, that reflect their +shadows upon crystal runlets silently coursing beneath, suddenly +flashing into the open light like a band of silver lace as it bisects a +glade green with _gramma_ grass. A landscape not all woodland or +meadow, but having also a mountain aspect, for the basaltic cliffs that +on both sides bound the valley bottom rise hundreds of feet high, +standing scarce two hundred yards apart, grimly frowning at each other, +like giant warriors about to begin battle, while the tall stems of the +_pitahaya_ projecting above might be likened to poised spears. + +It is a scene at once soft and sublime--an Eden of angels beset by a +serried phalanx of fiends; below, sweetly smiling; above, darkly +frowning and weirdly picturesque. A wilderness, with all its charms, +uninhabited; no house in sight; no domestic hearth or chimney towering +over it; no smoke, save that curling aloft from the fire lately kindled +in the soldiers' camp. Beasts and birds are its only habitual denizens; +its groves the chosen perching place of sweet songsters; its openings +the range of the prong-horn antelope and black-tailed deer; while +soaring above, or seated on prominent points of the precipice, may be +seen the _caracara_, the buzzard, and bald-headed eagle. + +Uraga has pitched his tents in an open glade of about ten acres in +superficial extent, and nearly circular in shape, lying within the +embrace of an umbrageous wood, the trees being mostly cotton woods of +large dimensions. Through its midst the streamlet meanders above, +issuing out of the timber, and below again entering it. + +On one side the bluffs are visible, rising darkly above the tree-tops, +and in the concavity underneath stand the tents, close to the timber +edge, though a hundred paces apart from each other. The troop horses, +secured by their trail-ropes, are browsing by the bank of the stream; +and above, perched upon the summit of the cliff, a flock of black +vultures sun themselves with out-spread wings, now and then uttering an +ominous croak as they crane their necks to scan what is passing +underneath. + +Had Uraga been influenced by a sense of sylvan beauty, he could not have +chosen a spot more suitable for his camping-place. + +Scenic effect has nought to do with his halting there. On the contrary, +he has turned up the Alamo, and is bivouacking on its bank, for a +purpose so atrocious that no one would give credit to it unacquainted +with the military life of Mexico in the days of the Dictator Don Antonio +Lopez de Santa Anna. This purpose is declared in a dialogue between the +lancer colonel and his lieutenant, occurring inside the conical tent +shortly after its being set up. + +But before shadowing the bright scene we have painted by thoughts of the +dark scheme so disclosed, let us seek society of a gentler kind. We +shall find it in the marquee set apart for Adela Miranda and her maid. + +It scarce needs to say that a change is observable in the appearance of +the lady. Her dress is travel-stained, bedraggled by dust and rain; her +hair, escaped from its coif, hangs dishevelled; her cheeks show the lily +where but roses have hitherto bloomed. She is sad, drooping, +despondent. + +The Indian damsel seems to suffer less from her captivity, having less +to afflict her--no dread of that terrible calamity which, like an +incubus, broods upon the mind of her mistress. + +In the conversation passing between them Conchita is the comforter. + +"Don't grieve so, senorita," she says, "I'm sure it will be all right +yet. Something whispers me it will. It may be the good Virgin--bless +her! I heard one of the soldiers say they're taking us to Santa Fe, and +that Don Valerian will be tried by a court martial--I think that's what +he called it. Well, what of it? You know well he hasn't done anything +for which they can condemn him to death--unless they downright +assassinate him. They dare not do that, tyrants as they are." + +At the words "assassinate him," the young lady gives a start. It is +just that which is making her so sad. Too well she knows the man into +whose hands they have unfortunately fallen. She remembers his design, +once nigh succeeding, only frustrated by that hurried flight from their +home. Is it likely the fiend will be contented to take her brother back +and trust to the decision of a legal tribunal, civil or military? She +cannot believe it; but shudders as she reflects upon what is before +them. + +"Besides," pursues Conchita, in her consolatory strain, "your gallant +Francisco and my big, brave Gualtero have gone before us. They'll be in +Albuquerque when we get there, and will be sure to hear of our arrival. +Trust them for doing something to save Don Valerian." + +"No, no," despondingly answers Adela, "they can do nothing for my +brother. That is beyond their power, even if he should ever reach +there. I fear he never will--perhaps, none of us." + +"_Santissima_! What do you mean, senorita? Surely these men will not +murder us on the way?" + +"They are capable of doing that--anything. Ah! Conchita, you do not +know them. I am in as much danger as my brother, for I shall choose +death rather than--" + +She forbears speaking the word that would explain her terrible +apprehension. Without waiting for it, Conchita rejoins-- + +"If they kill you, they may do the same with me. Dear _duena_, I'm +ready to die with you." + +The _duena_, deeply affected by this proffer of devotion, flings her +white arms around the neck of her brown-skinned maid, and imprints upon +her brow a kiss, speaking heartfelt gratitude. + +For a time the two remain enlocked in each other's arms, murmuring words +of mutual consolation. Love levels all ranks, but not more than +misery--perhaps not so much. In the hour of despair there is no +difference between prince and peasant, between the high-born dame and +the lowly damsel accustomed to serve her caprices and wait upon her +wishes. + +Adela Miranda has in her veins the purest _sangre azul_ of Andalusia. +Her ancestors came to New Spain among the proud _conquistadores_; while +those of Conchita, at least on the mother's side, were of the race +conquered, outraged, and humiliated. + +No thought of ancestral hostility, no pride of high lineage on one side, +or shame of low birth on the other, as the two girls stand inside the +tent with arms entwined, endeavouring to cheer one another. + +Under the dread of a common danger, the white _doncella_ and the dusky +damsel forget the difference in the colour of their skins; and for the +first time feel themselves sisters in the true sisterhood of humanity. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE. + +TWO SCOUNDRELS IN COUNCIL. + +Simultaneous with the scene in the square marquee a dialogue is taking +place within the conical tent, the speakers being Uraga and Roblez. + +The colonel is reclining on a bearskin, spread over the thick sward of +grass, which forms a soft couch underneath. The lieutenant sits on a +camp-stool beside. + +Both are smoking; while from a canteen and two cups, resting upon the +top of a bullock trunk, comes a perfume which tells they have also been +indulging in a drink. + +Uraga is thoughtful and silent; Roblez patiently waiting for him to +speak. The adjutant has but late entered the tent and delivered his +report about the pitching of the camp, the arrangements of which he has +been superintending. + +"You've stationed a look-out as I directed?" the Colonel inquires, after +a long silence. + +"I have." + +"I hope you've placed him so that he can command a good view of the +valley below?" + +"He's on a spur of the cliff, and can see full five miles down stream. +May I ask, colonel, whom we may expect to come that way? Not pursuers, +I take it?" + +Uraga does not make immediate reply. There is evidently something in +his thoughts he hesitates to communicate to his subordinate. The answer +he at length vouchsafes is evasive. + +"Whom may we expect? You forget those fellows left behind on the Llano. +The corporal and two men, whether they've found the Indian or not, will +make all haste after us. Fear of falling in with some party of Apaches +will stimulate their speed. I wonder why they haven't got up long ago. +Something strange about that." + +"No doubt the storm has detained them." + +"Do you think it's been that, ayadante?" + +"I can't think of anything else, colonel. Anyhow, they wouldn't be +likely to come here, but go on straight to Albuquerque. The corporal is +a skilled _rastrero_, and, reaching the place where the troop separated, +he'd be pretty sure to follow the trail of the larger party. All the +more from his knowing it the safer one, so far as savages are +concerned." + +"I hope he has done so. We don't want him here." + +Saying this, Uraga resumes his thoughtful attitude and silently puffs +away at his cigar, apparently watching the smoke as it curls up and +spreads against the canvas. + +Roblez, who appeared anxious about something, after a time again essays +speech. He puts the interrogatory,-- + +"How long are we to remain here?" + +"That will depend on--" + +Uraga does not complete the response--at least not till after taking +several whiffs at his weed. + +"On what?" asks the impatient subordinate. + +"Many matters--circumstances, events, coincidences." + +"May I know what they are. You promised to tell me, colonel." + +"I did--in time. It has not yet come. One thing I may now make known. +When we leave this camping-place we shall take no prisoners along with +us." + +"You intend setting them free?" The question is asked, not with any +idea that this is Uraga's design, but to draw out the explanation. + +"Free of all cares in this world, whatever may be their troubles in the +next." + +"They are to die, then?" + +"They are to die." + +"You mean only the men--Don Valerian and the doctor?" + +"What a ruffian you are, Roblez! By your question you must take me for +the same--a sanguinary savage. I'm not so bloodthirsty as to think of +killing women, much less one so sweet as the Senorita Miranda. Men +don't desire the deaths of their own wives--at least, not till after the +honeymoon. The Dona Adela is to be mine--shall, and must!" + +"I am aware that is your wish, and as things stand you have a fair +chance of obtaining it. You can have her without spilling her brother's +blood. Excuse me, colonel, but I can see no reason why he should not be +let live, at least till we take him to Santa Fe, There a prison will +hold him safe, and a court-martial can be called, which, with the spirit +just now abroad, will condemn him in one day, and execute him on the +morning of the next. That would keep you clear from all suspicion of +over-haste, which may attach to you if you take the thing into your own +hands here." + +"Bah! you talk like a child, teniente! The security of a prison in New +Mexico, or the chances of a prisoner being condemned, far less executed, +are things merely imaginary. All the more now that there's some +probability of a change in the political sky. Clouds have shown +themselves on the horizon at the capital--talk that our good friend +Gameleg is going out again. Before the storm comes I for one intend +making myself secure. As the husband of Adela Miranda, owning all that +belongs to her brother, and which will be hers after his death, I shall +care but little who presides in the Halls of the Moctezumas. +Priest-party or patriots, 'twill be all the same to me." + +"Why not become her husband and let the brother live?" + +"Why? Because that cannot be." + +"I don't see any reason against it. Both are in your power. You may +easily make terms." + +Uraga, impressed with the observation, remains for a while silent, +considering. To aid reflection he smokes harder than ever. + +Resuming speech, he asks,-- + +"How do you counsel?" + +"As I've said, colonel. Make terms with Miranda. Knowing his life to +be in your hands, he will listen to reason. Extract from him a +promise--an oath, if need be--that he will consent to his sister +becoming your wife; at the same time settling a portion of his property +on the newly married pair. It's big enough to afford all of you a +handsome income. That's what I would do." + +"He might promise you here. What security against breaking his word +when we get to Albuquerque?" + +"No need waiting for Albuquerque to give him the chance. You seem to +forget that there are churches between, and priests not over-scrupulous. +For instance, the cure of Anton Chico, and his reverence who saves +souls in the pueblita of La Mora. Either one will make man and wife of +you and the Senorita Adela without asking question beyond whether you +can produce coin sufficient to pay the marriage fees. Disbursing +freely, you may ensure the ceremonial in spite of all protest, if any +should arise. There can be none." + +Uraga lights a fresh cigar, and continues smoking, reflecting. The +counsel of his subaltern has made an impression on him--put the thing in +a new light. After all, what harm in letting Miranda live? Enough of +revenge compelling him to consent that his sister shall be the wife of +one she has scornfully rejected. If he refuse--if both do so--what +then? + +The interrogatory is addressed to Roblez. + +"Your position," answers the adjutant, "will be no worse than now. You +can still carry out the design you've hinted at without doing me the +honour to entrust it to me. Certainly no harm can arise from trying my +plan first. In ten minutes you may ascertain the result." + +"I shall try it," exclaims Uraga, springing to his feet and facing +towards the entrance of the tent. "You're right, Roblez. It's a second +string to the bow I had a thought about. If it snap, let it. But if it +do, before long--aye, before to-morrow's sun shines into our camp--the +proud beauty may find herself brotherless, her sole chance of protection +being the arms of Gil Uraga." + +Saying this, he pitches away the stump of his cigar, and strides forth +from the tent, determined to extract from Adela Miranda a promise of +betrothal, or in lieu of it decree her brother's death. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY SIX. + +A BROTHER SORELY TEMPTED. + +After stepping forth from the tent Uraga pauses to reflect. The course +counselled by Roblez seems reasonable enough. If he can but force the +girl's consent, it will not be difficult to get it sealed. There are +priests in the frontier pueblitas who will be obedient to a power +superior to the Church--even in Mexico, that Paradise of padres. Gold +will outweigh any scruples about the performance of the marriage +ceremony, however suspicion! the circumstances under which the intending +bride and bridegroom may prevent themselves at the altar. The lancer +colonel is well aware of this. + +But there are other points to be considered before he can proceed +farther with the affair. His escort must not know too much. There are +ten of them, all thorough cut-throats, and, as such, having a +fellow-feeling for their commanding officer. Not one of them but has +committed crime, and more than one stained his soul with murder. +Nothing strange for Mexican soldiers under the regime of Santa Anna. +Not rare even among their officers. + +On parting with the main body Uraga selected his escort with an eye to +sinister contingencies. They are the sort to assist in any deed of +blood. If ordered to shoot or hang the captives they would obey with +the eagerness of bloodhounds let loose from the leash, rather relishing +it as cruel sport. + +For all, he does not desire to entrust them with the secret of his +present scheme. + +They must not overhear the conversation which he intends holding with +his captives; and to prevent this a plan easily suggests itself. + +"Holla!" he hails a trooper with chevroned sleeves, in authority over +the others. "Step this way, _sergente_." + +The sergeant advances, and saluting, awaits further speech from the +colonel. + +"Order boots and saddles!" directs the latter. + +The order is issued; and the soldiers soon stand by their stirrups ready +to mount, wondering what duty they are so unexpectedly to be sent upon. + +"To horse!" commands the Colonel, vicariously through his +non-commissioned officer. "Ride up the creek, and find if there is a +pass leading out above. Take all the men with you; only leave Galvez to +keep guard over the prisoners." + +The sergeant, having received these instructions, once more salutes. +Then, returning to the group of lancers, at some distance off, gives the +word "Mount!" The troopers, vaulting into their saddles, ride away from +the ground, Galvez alone staying behind, who, being a "familiar" with +his colonel, and more than once his participator in crimes of deepest +dye, can be trusted to overhear anything. + +The movement has not escaped the observation of the two men lying tied +under the tree. They cannot divine its meaning, but neither do they +augur well of it. Still worse, when Uraga, calling to Galvez to come to +him, mutters some words in his ear. + +Their apprehensions are increased when the sentry returns to them, and, +unfastening the cord from the doctor's ankles, raises him upon his feet, +as if to remove him from the spot. + +On being asked what it is for, Galvez does not condescend to give an +answer, except to say in a gruff voice that he has orders to separate +them. + +Taking hold of the doctor's arm, he conducts him to a distance of +several hundred yards, and, once more laying him along the ground, +stands over him as before in the attitude of a sentry. The action is +suspicious, awe-inspiring--not more to Don Prospero than Miranda +himself. + +The latter is not left long to meditate upon it. Almost instantly he +sees the place of his friend occupied by his enemy. Gil Uraga stands +beside him. + +There is an interval of silence, with only an interchange of glances; +Don Valerian's defiant, Uraga's triumphant. But the expression of +triumph on the part of the latter appears held in check, as if to wait +some development that may either heighten or curb its display. + +Uraga breaks silence--the first speech vouchsafed to his former +commanding officer since making him a prisoner. + +"Senor Miranda," he says, "you will no doubt be wondering why I have +ordered your fellow-captive to be taken apart from you. It will be +explained by my saying that I have words for you I don't wish overheard +by anyone--not even by your dear friend, Don Prospero." + +"What words, Gil Uraga?" + +"A proposal I have to make." + +Miranda remains silent, awaiting it. + +"Let me first make known," continues the ruffian, "though doubtless you +know it already, that your life is in my power. If I put a pistol to +your head and blow out your brains there will be no calling me to +account. If there was any danger of that, I could avoid it by giving +you the benefit of a court-martial. Your life is forfeit to the state; +and our military laws, as you are aware, can be stretched just now +sufficiently to meet your case." + +"I am aware of it," rejoins Miranda, his patriotic spirit roused by the +reflection; "I know the despotism that now rules my unfortunate country. +It can do anything, without respect for either laws or constitution." + +"Just so," assents Uraga; "and for this reason I approach you with my +proposal." + +"Speak it, then. Proceed, sir, and don't multiply words. You need not +fear of their effect. I am your prisoner, and powerless." + +"Since you command me to avoid circumlocution, I shall obey you to the +letter. My proposal is that, in exchange for your life--which I have +the power to take, as also to save--you will give me your sister." + +Miranda writhes till the cords fastening his wrists almost cut through +the skin. Withal, he is silent; his passion too intense to permit of +speech. + +"Don't mistake me, Don Valerian Miranda," pursues his tormentor, in a +tone intended to be soothing. "When I ask you to give me your sister I +mean it in an honourable sense. I wish her for my wife; and to save +your life she will consent to become so, if you only use your influence +to that end. She will not be a faithful sister if she do not. I need +not tell you that I love her; you know that already. Accept the +conditions I offer, and all will be well. I can even promise you the +clemency of the State; for my influence in high places is somewhat +different from what it was when you knew me as your subordinate. It +will enable me to obtain free pardon for you." + +Miranda still remains silent--long enough to rouse the impatience of him +who dictates, and tempt the alternative threat already shaping itself on +his tongue. + +"Refuse," he continues, his brow suddenly clouding, while a light of +sinister significance flashes from his eyes, "Refuse me, and you see not +another sun. By that now shining you may take your last look of the +earth; for this night will certainly be your last on it alive. Observe +those vultures on the cliff! They are whetting their beaks, as if they +expected a banquet. They shall have one, on your body, if you reject +the terms I've offered. Accept them, Don Valerian Miranda; or before +to-morrow's sun reaches meridian the birds will be feeding upon your +flesh, and the wild beasts quarrelling over your bones. Answer me, and +without prevarication. I demand plain speech, yes or no." + +"No!" is the monosyllable shouted, almost shrieked, by him so menaced. +"No!" he repeats; "never shall I consent to that. I am in your power, +Gil Uraga. Put your pistol to my head, blow out my brains, as you say +you can do with impunity. Kill me any way you wish, even torture. It +could not be more painful than to see you the husband of my sister, +either by my consent or her own. You cannot force mine upon such +disgraceful conditions, nor yet gain her's. My noble Adela! She would +rather see me die, and die along with me." + +"Ha! ha!" responded Uraga, in a peal of mocking laughter, mingled with a +whine of chagrin, "we shall see about that. Perhaps the senorita may +not treat my offer quite so slightingly as yourself. Women are not so +superbly stupid. They have a keener comprehension of their own +interests. Your sister may better appreciate the honour I am intending +her. If not, Heaven help her and you! She will soon be without a +brother. Adios, Don Valerian! I go to pour speech into softer ears. +For your own sake, hope--pray--that my proposal may be more favourably +received." + +Saying this, Uraga turns upon his heel and abruptly walks away, leaving +behind his captive with hands tied and heart in a tumult of anguished +emotion. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN. + +A SISTER SORELY TRIED. + +The marquee occupied by Adela Miranda and her maid is not visible from +the spot where her brother lies bound. The other tent is between, with +some shrubbery further concealing it. + +But from the tenour of his last speech, Don Valerian knows that Uraga +has gone thither, as also his object. + +Chagrined by the denial he has received from the brother, roused to +recklessness, he resolves on having an answer from the sister, +point-blank, upon the instant. + +With slight ceremony he enters her tent. Once inside, he mutters a +request, more like a command, for Conchita to withdraw. He does this +with as much grace as the excited state of his feelings permits, +excusing himself on the plea that he wishes a word with the senorita-- +one he is sure she would not wish to be heard by other ears than her +own. + +Aroused from a despondent attitude, the young lady looks up, her large +round eyes expressing surprise, anger, apprehension, awe. The mestiza +glances towards her mistress for instructions. The latter hesitates to +give them. Only for an instant. It can serve no purpose to gainsay the +wishes of one who has full power to enforce them, and whose demeanour +shows him determined on doing so. + +"You can go, Conchita," says her mistress; "I will call you when you are +wanted." + +The girl moves off with evident reluctance, but stops not far from the +tent. + +"Now, Don Gil Uraga," demands the lady, on being left alone with the +intruder, "what have you to say to me that should not be overheard?" + +"Come, senorita! I pray you will not commence so brusquely. I approach +you as a friend, though for some time I may have appeared in the +character of an enemy. I hope, however, you'll give me credit for good +intentions. I'm sure you will when you know how much I'm distressed by +the position I'm placed in. It grieves me that my instructions compel +such harsh measures towards my two prisoners: but, in truth, I can say +no discretion has been left me. I act under an order from +headquarters." + +"Senor," she rejoins, casting upon him a look of scornful incredulity, +"you have said all this before. I suppose you had something else to +speak of." + +"And so I have, senorita. Something of a nature so unpleasant I +hesitate to tell it, fearing it may sadly shock you." + +"You need not. After what has passed I am not likely to be nervous." + +Despite her natural courage, and an effort to appear calm, she trembles, +as also her voice. There is an expression on the face of the man that +bodes sinister risings--some terrible disclosure. + +The suspense is too painful to be borne; and in a tone more firm and +defiant she demands the promised communication. + +"Dona Adela Miranda," he rejoins, speaking in a grave, measured voice, +like a doctor delivering a prognosis of death, "it has been my duty to +make your brother a prisoner--a painful one, as I have said. But, alas! +the part I've already performed is nothing compared with that now +required of me. You say you are prepared for a shock. What I'm going +to say will cause you one." + +She no longer attempts to conceal alarm. It is now discernible in her +large, wondering eyes. + +"Say it!" + +The words drop mechanically from her lips, drawn forth by the intensity +of her apprehension. + +"You are soon to be without a brother!" + +"What mean you, senor?" + +"Don Valerian dies within the hour." + +"You are jesting, sir. My brother has not been sick? He is not +wounded? Why should he die?" + +She speaks hurriedly, and with an incredulous stare at Uraga; while at +the same time her heaving, palpitating bosom shows she too truly +believes what he said. + +"Don Valerian is not sick," continues the unfeeling wretch, "nor yet has +he received any wound. For all this, in less than an hour he must die. +It is decreed." + +"_Madre de Dios_! You are mocking me. His death decreed! By whom?" + +"Not by me, I assure you. The military authorities of the country have +been his judges, and condemned him long ago, as also Don Prospero. It +only needed their capture to have the sentence carried out. This +disagreeable duty has been entrusted to me. My orders at starting were +to have both shot on the instant of making them captives. For your +sake, senorita, I've so far disobeyed the rigorous command--an act which +may cost me my commission. Yes, Dona Adela, for your sake." + +The tale is preposterous, and might seem to her who hears it a lie, but +for her knowledge of many similar occurrences in the history of her +native land, "Cosas de Mexico." Besides, her own and her brother's +experience render it but too probable. + +"_Dios de mi alma_!" she cries out in the anguish of conviction, "can +this be true?" + +"It is true." + +"Colonel Uraga, you will not carry out this cruel sentence! It is not +an execution--it is an assassination! You will not stain your soul with +murder?" + +"I must obey orders." + +"My poor brother! Have mercy! You can save him?" + +"I can." + +"You will? You will?" + +"I will!" + +The emphasis with which these two words are pronounced brings a flush of +gratefulness over her face, and she makes a forward movement as if to +thank him by a pressure of the hand. She might have given it but for +the cast upon his features, telling his consent not yet obtained, nor +his speech finished. There is more to come--two other words. They +are-- + +"Upon conditions!" + +They check her bursting gratitude. Conditions! She knows not what they +may be. But she knows the character of Gil Uraga, and can predict they +will be hard. + +"Name them!" she demands. "If it be money, I'm ready to give it. +Though my brother's property is taken from him, as we've heard, not so +mine. I have wealth--houses, lands. Take all, but save Valerian's +life." + +"You can save it without expending a single _claco_; only by giving a +grace." + +"What mean you, senor?" + +"To explain my meaning I'll repeat what I've said. Your brother's head +is forfeit. It can be saved by a hand." + +"Still I do not understand you. A hand?" + +"Yes, your hand." + +"How?" + +"Grasped in mine--united with it in holy wedlock. That is all I ask." + +She starts as if a serpent had stung her, for she now comprehends all. + +"All I ask," he continues in a strain of fervid passion, "I who love you +with my whole soul; who have loved you for long hopeless years--aye, +senorita, ever since you were a schoolgirl; myself a rough, wild youth, +the son of a ranchero, who dared only gaze at you from a distance. I am +a peasant no longer, but one who has wealth; upon whom the State has +bestowed power to command; made me worthy to choose a wife from among +the proudest in our land--even to wed with the Dona Adela Miranda, who +beholds him at her feet!" + +While speaking he has knelt before her, and remains upon his knees +awaiting her response. + +She makes none. She stands as if petrified, deprived of the power of +speech. + +Her silence gives him hope. + +"Dona Adela," he continues in an appealing tone, as if to strengthen the +chances of an affirmative answer, "I will do everything to make you +happy--everything a husband can. And remember your brother's life! I +am risking my own to save it. I have just spoken to him on the subject. +He does not object; on the contrary, has given consent to you being +mine." + +"You say so?" she inquires, with a look of incredulity. "I do not +believe it--will not, without hearing it from his own lips." + +While speaking, she springs past the kneeling suppliant, and, before he +can get upon his legs or stretch forth a hand to detain her, she has +glided out of the tent, and makes for the place where she supposes the +prisoners to be kept. + +Starting to his feet, Uraga rushes after. His intent is to overtake and +bring her back, even if he have to carry her. + +He is too late. Before he can come up with her she has reached the spot +where her brother lies bound, and kneels beside him with arms embracing, +her lips pressing his brow, his cheeks moistened by her tears. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT. + +A TERRIBLE INTENTION. + +Not for long does the scene of agonised affection remain uninterrupted. +In a few seconds it is intruded on by him who is causing its agony. + +Uraga, hastening after, has reached the spot and stands contemplating +it. A spectacle to melt a heart of stone, it has no softening effect on +his. His brow his black with rage, his eyes shining like coals of fire. + +His first impulse is to call Galvez and order him to drag brother and +sister apart. His next to do this himself. He is about seizing Adela's +wrist, when a thought restrains him. No melting or impulse of humanity. +There is not a spark of it in his bosom. Only a hope, suddenly +conceived, that with the two now together he may repeat his proposal +with a better chance of its being entertained. + +From the expression upon their countenances he can see that in the +interval before his coming up words have passed between them--few and +hastily spoken, but enough for each to have been told what he has been +saying to the other. It does not daunt; on the contrary, but determines +him to renew his offer, and, if necessary, reiterate his threats. + +There is no one within earshot for whom he need care. Galvez has taken +Don Prospero far apart. Roblez is inside the tent, though he thinks not +of him; while the Indian damsel, who stands trembling by, is not worth a +thought. Besides, he is now more than ever regardless of the result. + +"Don Valerian Miranda!" he exclaims, recovering breath after his chase +across the camp-ground. "I take it your sister has told you what has +passed between us. If not, I shall tell you myself." + +"My sister has communicated all--even the falsehood by which you've +sought to fortify your infamous proposal." + +"_Carramba_!" exclaims Uraga, upon whose cheeks there is no blush of +shame for the deception practised. "Does the offer to save your life, +at risk of my own--to rescue you from a felon's death--does that deserve +the harsh epithet with which you are pleased to qualify it? Come, +senor, you are wronging me while trifling with your own interests. I +have been honest, and declared all. I love the Dona Adela, as you've +known, long. What do I ask? Only that she shall become my wife, and, +by so doing, save the life of her brother. As your brother-in-law it +will be my duty, my interest, my pleasure, to protect you." + +"That you shall never be!" firmly rejoins Miranda. "No, never!" he +adds, with kindling fervour, "never, on such conditions!" + +"Does the senorita pronounce with the same determination?" asks Uraga, +riveting his eyes on Adela. + +It is a terrible ordeal for the girl. Her brother lying bound by her +side, his death about to be decreed, his end near as if the executioner +were standing over him--for in this light does Uraga appear. Called +upon to save his life by promising to become the wife of this man-- +hideous in her eyes as the hangman himself; knowing, or believing, that +if she does not, in another hour she may be gazing upon a blood-stained +corpse--the dead body of her own brother! No wonder she trembles from +head to foot, and hesitates to endorse the negative he has so +emphatically pronounced. + +Don Valerian notes her indecision, and, firmly as before, repeats the +words,-- + +"No--never!" adding, "Dear sister, think not of me. Do not fear or +falter; I shall not. I would rather die a hundred deaths than see you +the wife of such a ruffian. Let me die first!" + +"_Chingara_!" hisses the man thus boldly defied, using the vilest +exclamation known to the Spanish tongue. "Then you shall die first. +And, after you're dead, she shall still be my wife, or something you may +not like so well--my _Margarita_!" + +The infamous meaning conveyed by this word, well understood by Miranda, +causes him to start half-upright, at the same time wrenching at the rope +around his wrists. The perspiration forced from him by the agony of the +hour has moistened the raw-hide thong to stretching. It yields to the +convulsive effort, leaving his hands released. + +With a quick lurch forward he clutches at the sword dangling by Uraga's +side. Its hilt is in his grasp, and in an instant he has drawn the +blade from its scabbard! + +Seeing himself thus suddenly disarmed, the Lancer Colonel springs back +shouting loudly for help. Miranda, his ankles bound, is at first unable +to follow, but with the sword-blade he quickly cut the thongs, and is on +his feet--free! + +In another instant he is chasing Uraga across the camp-ground, the +latter running like a scared hound. + +Before he can be overtaken, the trampling of hoofs resound upon the +grassy turf, and the returned lancers, with Roblez and the sentry, close +around the prisoner. + +Don Valerian sees himself encircled by a _chevaux de frise_ of lances, +with cocked carbines behind. There is no chance of escape, no +alternative but surrender. After that-- + +He does not stop to reflect. A wild thought flashes across his brain--a +terrible determination. To carry it out only needs the consent of his +sister. She had rushed between their horses and stands by his side, +with arms outstretched to protect him. + +"Adela!" he says, looking intently into her eyes, "dear sister, let us +die together!" + +She sees the sword resolutely held in his grasp. She cannot mistake the +appeal. + +"Yes; let us, Valerian!" comes the quick response, with a look of +despairing resignation, followed by the muttered speech of "Mother of +God, take us both to thy bosom! To thee we commit our souls!" + +He raises the blade, its point towards his sister--in another moment to +be buried in her bosom, and afterwards in his own! + +The sacrifice is not permitted, though the soldiers have no hand in +hindering it. Dismayed or careless, they sit in their saddles without +thought of interfering. But between their files rushes a form in whose +heart is more of humanity. + +The intruder is Conchita--opportune to an instant. + +Two seconds more, and the fratricidal sword would have bereft her of a +mistress and a master, both alike beloved. + +Both are saved by her interference; for grasping the upraised arm, she +restrains it from the thrust. + +Roblez, close following, assists her, while several of the lancers, now +dismounted, fling themselves upon Miranda and disarm him. + +The intending sororicide and suicide is restored to his fastenings; his +sister taken back to her tent; a trooper detailed to stand sentry beside +and frustrate any attempt at a second escapade. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY NINE. + +AN INTERCEPTED DISPATCH. + +While the thrilling incident described is occurring in Uraga's camp, the +Rangers, _en route_ along the banks of the Pecos, are making all the +haste in their power to reach it, Hamersley and Wilder every now and +then saying some word to urge them on. + +In pursuit of such an enemy the Texans need no pressing. 'Tis only the +irrestrainable impatience of the two whose souls are tortured by the +apprehension of danger hovering over the heads of those dear to them. +There is no difficulty in lifting the trail of the soldiers. Their +horses are shod, and the late storm, with its torrent of rain, has +saturated the earth, obliterating all old hoof-marks, so that those +later made are not only distinct but conspicuous. So clear, that the +craft of Cully and Wilder is not called into requisition. Every Ranger +riding along the trail can take it up as fast as his horse is able to +carry him. + +All see that Uraga has taken no pains to blind the track of his party. +Why should he? He can have no suspicion of being pursued; certainly not +by such pursuers. + +Along the trail, then, they ride rapidly; gratified to observe that it +grows fresher as they advance for they are travelling thrice as fast as +the men who made it. + +All at once they come to a halt--summoned to this by a sight which never +fails to bring the most hurried traveller to a stand. They see before +them the dead body of a man! + +It is lying on a sand-spit, which projects into the river. Upon this it +has evidently been washed by the waters, now subsiding after the +freshet, due to the late tornado. Beside it shows the carcase of a +mule, deposited in similar manner. Both are conspicuous to the Rangers +as they ride abreast of the spit; but their attention has been called to +them long before by a flock of buzzards, some hovering above, others +alighting upon the sandbank. + +Six or seven of the Texans, heading their horses down the sloping bank, +ride towards the "sign"--so sad, yet terribly attractive. It would +tempt scrutiny anywhere; but in the prairie wilderness, in that +dangerous desert, it may be the means of guiding to a path of safety, or +warding from one that is perilous. + +While those who have detached themselves proceed out upon the sand-bar, +the main body remains upon the high bank, awaiting their return. + +The dead man proves to be an Indian, though not of the _bravos_, or +savage tribes. Wearing a striped woollen _talma_, with coarse cotton +shirt underneath, wide sheep-skin breeches, ex tending only a little +below the knee, and rude raw-hide sandals upon his feet, he is evidently +one of the Christianised aboriginals. + +There are no marks of violence on his body, nor yet on the carcase of +the mule. The case is clear at a glance. It is one of drowning; and +the swollen stream, still foaming past, is evidence eloquent of how it +happened. On the man's body there are no signs of rifling or robbery. +His pockets, when turned inside out, yield such contents as might be +expected on the person of an _Indio manso_. + +Only one thing, which, in the eyes of the examinators, appears out of +place; a sheet of paper folded in the form of a letter, and sealed as +such. It is saturated with water, stained to the hue of the still +turbid stream. But the superscription can be read, "Por Barbato." + +So much Cully and Wilder, who assist at the examination, can make out +for themselves. But on breaking open the seal, and endeavouring to +decipher what is written inside, both are at fault, as also the others +along with them. The letter is in a language that is a sealed book to +all. It is in Spanish. + +Without staying to attempt translating it, they return to the river's +bank, taking the piece of paper along, for the superscription has +touched a tender point, and given rise to strange suspicions. + +Walt carries the wet letter, which, soon as rejoining their comrades, he +places in the hands of Hamersley. The latter, translating, reads aloud: + + "Senor Barbato,--As soon as you receive this, communicate its contents + to the chief. Tell him to meet me on the Arroyo de Alamo--same place + as before--and that he is to bring with him twenty or thirty of his + painted devils. The lesser number will be enough, as it's not an + affair of fighting. Come yourself with them. You will find me + encamped with a small party--some female and two male captives. No + matter about the women. It's the men you have to deal with; and this + is what you are to do. Charge upon our camp the moment you get sight + of it; make your redskins shout like fiends, and ride forward, + brandishing their spears. You won't meet resistance, nor find any one + on the ground when you've got there, only our two prisoners, who will + be fast bound, and so cannot flee with us. What's to be done with + them, amigo mio, is the important part--in fact, the whole play. Tell + the chief they are to be speared upon the spot, thrust through as soon + as you get up to them. See to this yourself, lest there be any + mischance; and I'll take care you shall have your reward." + +Made acquainted with the contents of this vile epistle, the rage of the +Rangers, already sufficiently aroused, breaks from all bounds, and, for +a while, seeks vent in fearful curses and asseverations. Though there +is no name appended to the diabolical chapter of instructions, they have +no doubt as to who has dictated it. Circumstances, present and +antecedent, point to the man of whom they are in pursuit--Gil Uraga. + +And he to whom the epistle is superscribed, "Por Barbato." + +A wild cry ascends simultaneously from the whole troop as they face +round towards the renegade, who is still with them, and their prisoner. +The wretch turns pale, as if all the blood of his body were abruptly +drawn out. Without comprehending the exact import of that cry, he can +read in fifty pairs of eyes glaring angrily on him that his last hour +has come. + +The Rangers can have no doubt as to whom the letter has been addressed, +as they can also tell why it has miscarried. For the renegade has +already disclosed his name, not thinking it would thus strangely turn up +to condemn him to death. + +Yes--to death; for, although promised life, with only the punishment of +a prison, these conditions related to another criminality, and were +granted without the full knowledge of his guilt--of connivance at a +crime unparalleled for atrocity. His judges feel absolved from every +stipulation of pardon or mercy; and, summoning to the judgment seat the +quick, stem decreer--Lynch--in less than five minutes after the +trembling wretch is launched into eternity! + +There is reason for this haste. They know that the letter has +miscarried; but he who could dictate such a damnable epistle is a wild +beast at large, who cannot be too soon destroyed. + +Leaving the body of Barbato to be devoured by wolves and vultures, they +spur on along the Pecos, only drawing bridle to breathe their horses as +the trail turns up at the bottom of a confluent creek--the Arroyo de +Alamo. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY. + +A SCHEME OF ATROCITY. + +Discomfited--chagrined by his discomfiture--burning with shame at the +pitiful spectacle he has afforded to his followers--Uraga returns within +his tent like an enraged tiger. Not as one robbed of its prey--he is +still sure of this as ever; for he has other strings to his bow, and the +weak one just snapped scarce signifies. + +But for having employed it to no purpose he now turns upon Roblez, who +counselled the course that has ended so disastrously. + +The adjutant is a safe target on which to expend the arrows of his +spleen, and to soothe his perturbed spirit he gives vent to it. + +In time, however, he gets somewhat reconciled; the sooner by gulping +down two or three glasses of Catalan brandy. Along with the liquor, +smoking, as if angry at his cigar, and consuming it through sheer spite, +Roblez endeavours to soothe him by consolative speech. + +"What matters it, after all!" puts in the confederate. "It may be that +everything has been for the best. I was wrong, no doubt, in advising as +I did. Still, as you see, it's gained us some advantage." + +"Advantage! To me the very reverse. Only to think of being chased +about my own camp by a man who is my prisoner! And before the eyes of +everybody! A pretty story for our troopers to tell when they get back +to Albuquerque! I, Colonel commanding, will be the jest of the +_cuartel_!" + +"Nothing of the kind, colonel! There is nothing to jest about. Your +prisoner chanced to possess himself of your sword--a thing no one could +have anticipated. He did it adroitly, but then you were at the time +unsuspecting. Disarmed, what else could you do but retreat from a man, +armed, desperate, determined on taking your life. I'd like to see +anyone who'd have acted otherwise. Under the circumstances only an +insane man would keep his ground. The episode has been awkward, I +admit. But it's all nonsense--excuse me for saying so--your being +sensitive about that part of it. And for the rest, I say again, it's +given us an advantage; in short, the very one you wanted, if I +understand your intentions aright." + +"In what way?" + +"Well, you desired a pretext, didn't you?" + +"To do what?" + +"Court-martial your prisoners, condemn, and execute them. The attempt +on your life will cover all this, so that the keenest scandal-monger may +not open his lips. It will be perfectly _en regie_ for you to hang or +shoot Don Valerian Miranda--and, if you like, the doctor, too--after ten +minutes' deliberation over a drum's head. I'm ready to organise the +court according to your directions." + +To this proposal Uraga replies with a significant smile, saying: + +"Your idea is not a bad one; but I chance to have a better. Much as I +hate Miranda and wish him out of the way, I don't desire to imbrue my +hands in his blood; don't intend to, as I've already hinted to you." + +Roblez turns upon his superior officer a look of incredulous _surprise, +interrogating_,-- + +"You mean to take him back, and let him be tried in the regular way?" + +"I mean nothing of the kind." + +"I thought it strange, after your telling me he would never leave this +place alive." + +"I tell you so still." + +"Colonel! you take pleasure in mystifying me. If you're not going to +try your prisoners by court-martial, in what way are your words to be +made good? Surely you don't intend to have them shot without form of +trial?" + +"I've said I won't imbrue my hands in their blood." + +"True, you've said that more than once, but without making things any +clearer to me. You spoke of some plan. Perhaps I may now hear it?" + +"You shall. But first fill me out another _capita_ of the Catalan. +That affair has made me thirsty as a sponge." + +The adjutant, acting as Ganymede, pours out the liquor and hands the cup +to his colonel, which the latter quaffs off. Then, lighting a fresh +cigar, he proceeds with the promised explanation. + +"I spoke of events, incidents, and coincidences--didn't I, _ayadante_?" + +"You did, Colonel." + +"Well, suppose I clump them altogether, and give you the story in a +simple narrative--a monologue? I know, friend Roblez, you're not a man +greatly given to speech; so it will save you the necessity of opening +your lips till I've got through." + +Roblez, usually taciturn, nods assent. + +"Before coming out here," continues the Colonel, "I'd taken some steps. +When you've heard what they are I fancy you'll give me credit for +strategy, or cunning, if you prefer so calling it. I told you I should +take no prisoners back, and that Don Valerian and the doctor are to die. +They will go to their graves without causing scandal to any of us. To +avoid it I've engaged an executioner, who will do the job without any +direct orders from me." + +"Who?" asks the adjutant, forgetting his promise to be silent. + +"Don't interrupt!" + +The subordinate resumes silence. + +"I think," continues Uraga, in a tone of serio-comicality, "you have +heard of a copper-coloured gentleman called `Horned Lizard.' If I +mistake not, you have the honour of his acquaintance. And, unless I'm +astray in my reckoning, you'll have the pleasure of seeing him here this +evening, or at an early hour to-morrow morning. He will make his +appearance in somewhat eccentric fashion. No doubt, he'll come into our +camp at a charging gallop, with some fifty or a hundred of his painted +warriors behind him. And I shouldn't wonder if they should spit some of +our gay lancers on the points of their spears. That will depend on +whether these _valientes_ be foolish enough to make resistance. I don't +think they will. More likely we shall see them gallop off at the first +whoop of the Indian assailants. You and I, Roblez, will have to do the +same; but, as gallant gentlemen, we must take the women along with us. +To abandon them to the mercy of the savages, without making an effort to +save them, were absolute poltroonery, and would never bear reporting in +the settlements. Therefore, we must do our best to take the ladies +along. Of course, we can't be blamed for not being able to save our +male prisoners. Their fate, I fear, will be for each to get half a +dozen Comanche spears thrust through his body, or it may be a dozen. +It's sad to think of it, but such misfortunes cannot always be avoided. +They are but the ordinary incidents of frontier life. Now, _senor +ayadante_, do you comprehend my scheme?" + +"Since I am at length permitted to speak, I may say I do--at least, I +have an obscure comprehension of it. Fairly interpreted, I take it to +mean this. You have arranged with the Horned Lizard to make a +counterfeit attack upon our camp--to shoot down or spear our poor devils +of soldiers, if need be?" + +"Not the slightest need of his doing that, nor any likelihood of his +being able to do it. They'll run like good fellows at the first yell of +the Indians. Have no apprehensions about them." + +"In any case, the Horned Lizard is to settle the question with our +captives, and take the responsibility off our hands. If I understand +aright, that is the programme." + +"It is." + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE. + +A BOOTLESS JOURNEY. + +Having returned to his original design--the scheme of atrocity so coolly +and jestingly declared, Uraga takes steps towards its execution. + +The first is, to order his own horse, or rather that of Hamersley, to be +saddled, bridled, and tied behind his own tent. The same for that +ridden by Roblez. Also the mustang mare which belongs to Adela +Miranda--her own "Lolita"--and the mule set apart for the _mestiza_. +The troop horses already caparisoned are to remain so. + +Ignorant of their object, the troopers wonder at these precautions, +though not so much as might be expected. They are accustomed to receive +mysterious commands, and obey them without cavil or question. + +Not one of the ten but would cut a throat at Gil Uraga's bidding, +without asking the reason why. + +The picket placed on a spin of the cliff has orders to signal if any one +is seen coming up the creek. If Indians appear he is to gallop into the +camp, and report in person. + +The alarm thus started will easily be fostered into a stampede, and at +the onslaught of the savages the lancers will rush to their horses and +ride off without offering resistance. In the _sauve qui peut_ none of +them will give a thought to the two prisoners lying tied under the tree. +These are to be left behind to the tender mercies of the Tenawa chief. +It will be an act of gallantry to save the female captives by carrying +them off. This Uraga reserves for himself, assisted by Roblez. + +Such is his scheme of vicarious assassination; in the atrocity of +conception unequalled, almost incredible. He has no anxiety as to its +success. For himself he is more than ever determined; while Roblez, +restrained by the fiasco following his advice, no longer offers +opposition. + +Uraga has no fear the Tenawa chief will fail him. He has never done so +before, and will not now. + +The new proposal, which the colonel supposes to have reached the hands +of Horned Lizard in that letter carried by Pedrillo, will be eagerly +accepted. Barbato will bring the chief with his cut-throats to the +Arroyo de Alamo, sure as there is a sun in the sky. + +It is but a question of time. They may come up at any hour--any minute; +and having arranged all preliminaries, Uraga remains in his tent to +await the cue for action. He little dreams at the moment he is thus +expecting his red-skinned confederate, that the latter, along with the +best braves of his band, has gone to the happy hunting grounds, while +his go-between, Barbato, is in safe keeping elsewhere. + +As the hours pass, and no one is reported as approaching, he becomes +impatient; for the time has long elapsed since the Tenawa chief should +have been upon the spot. + +Chafing, he strides forth from the tent, and proceeds towards the place +where the look-out has been stationed. Reaching it, he reconnoitres for +himself, with a telescope he has taken along, to get a better view down +the valley. + +At first, levelling the glass, no one can be seen. In the reach of open +ground, dotted here and there with groves, there are deer browsing, and +a grizzly bear is seen crossing between the cliffs, but no shape that +resembles a human being. + +He is about lowering the telescope when a new form comes into its field +of view--a horseman riding up the creek. No the animal is a mule. No +matter the rider is a man. + +Keenly scrutinising, he perceives it is an Indian, though not one of the +wild sort. His garb betokens him of the tamed. + +Another glance through the glass and his individuality declares itself, +Uraga recognising him as one of the messengers sent to the Tenawas' +town. Not the principal, Pedrillo, but he of secondary importance, +Jose. + +"Returning alone!" mutters the Mexican to himself. "What does that +mean? Where can Pedrillo be? What keeps him behind, I wonder?" + +He continues wondering and conjecturing till Jose has ridden up to the +spot, when, perceiving his master, the latter dismounts and approaches +him. + +In the messenger's countenance there is an expression of disappointment, +and something more. It tells a tale of woe, with reluctance to disclose +it. + +"Where is Pedrillo?" is the first question asked in anxious impatience. + +"Oh, _senor coronel_!" replies Jose, hat in hand, and trembling in every +joint. "Pedrillo! _Pobre Pedrillito_!" + +"Well! Poor Pedrillito--what of him? Has anything happened to him?" + +"Yes, your excellency, a terrible mischance I fear to tell it you." + +"Tell it, sirrah, and at once! Out with it, whatever it is!" + +"Alas, Pedrillo is gone!" + +"Gone--whither?" + +"Down the river." + +"What river?" + +"The Pecos." + +"Gone down the Pecos? On what errand?" inquired the colonel, in +surprise. + +"On no errand, your excellency." + +"Then what's taken him down the Pecos? Why went he?" + +"_Senor coronel_, he has not gone of his own will. It is only his dead +body that went; it was carried down by the flood." + +"Drowned? Pedrillo drowned?" + +"_Ay de mi_! 'Tis true, as I tell you--too true, _pobrecito_." + +"How did this happen, Jose?" + +"We were crossing at the ford, senor. The waters were up from a _norte_ +that's just passed over the plains. The river was deep and running +rapid, like a torrent, Pedrillo's _macho_ stumbled, and was swept off. +It was as much as mine could do to keep its legs. I think he must have +got his feet stuck in the stirrups, for I could see him struggling +alongside the mule till both went under. When they came to the surface +both were drowned--dead. They floated on without making a motion, +except what the current gave them as their bodies were tossed about by +it. As I could do nothing there, I hastened here to tell you what +happened. _Pobre Pedrillito_!" + +The cloud already darkening Uraga's brow grows darker as he listens to +the explanation. It has nothing to do with the death of Pedrillo, or +compassion for his fate--upon which he scarce spends a thought--but +whether there has been a miscarriage of that message of which the +drowned man was the bearer. His next interrogatory, quickly put, is to +get satisfied on this head. + +"You reached the Tenawa town?" + +"We did, _senor coronel_." + +"Pedrillo carried a message to the Horned Lizard, with a letter for +Barbato. You know that, I suppose?" + +"He told me so." + +"Well, you saw him deliver the letter to Barbato?" + +"He did not deliver it to Barbato." + +"To the chief, then?" + +"To neither, your Excellency. He could not." + +"Could not! Why?" + +"They ere not there to receive it. They are no longer in this world-- +neither the Horned Lizard nor Barbato. Senor Coronel, the Tenawas have +met with a great misfortune. They've had a fight with a party of +Tejanos. The chief is killed, Barbato is killed, and nearly half of +their braves. When Pedrillo and I reached the town we found the tribe +in mourning, the women all painted black, with their hair cut off; the +men who had escaped the slaughter cowed, and keeping concealed within +their lodges." + +A wild exclamation leaps from the lips of Uraga as he listens to these +disclosures, his brow becoming blacker than ever. + +"But, Pedrillo," he inquires, after a pause; "what did he say to them? +You know the import of his message. Did he communicate it to the +survivors?" + +"He did, your Excellency. They could not read your letter, but he told +them what it was about. They were to meet you here, he said. But they +refused to come. They were in too great distress about the death of +their chief, and the chastisement they had received. They were in fear +that the Tejanos would pursue them to their town; and were making +preparations to flee from it when Pedrillo and myself came away. _Pobre +Pedrillito_!" + +Uraga no longer stays listening to the mock humanity of his whining +messenger. No more does he think of the drowned Pedrillo. His thoughts +are now given to a new design. Murder by proxy has failed. For all +that, it must still be done. To take counsel with his adjutant about +the best mode of proceeding, he hastens back to the camp; plunges into +his tent; and there becomes closeted--the lieutenant along with him. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO. + +A MOCK COURT-MARTIAL. + +For the disaster that was overtaken the Tenawa chief and his warriors, +Gil Uraga does not care a jot. True, by the death of Horned Lizard he +has lost an ally who, on some future scheme of murder, might have been +used to advantage; while Barbato, whose life he believes also taken, can +no more do him service as agent in his intercourse with the red pirates +of the prairie. + +It matters not much now. As military commander of a district he has +attained power, enabling him to dispense with any left-handed +assistance; and of late more than once has wished himself rid of such +suspicious auxiliaries. Therefore, but for the frustration of his +present plans, he would rather rejoice than grieve over the tidings +brought by the returned emissary. + +His suit scorned, his scheme of assassination thwarted, he is as much as +ever determined on the death of the two prisoners. + +In the first moments of his anger, after hearing Jose's tale, he felt +half inclined to rush upon Miranda, sword in hand, and settle the matter +at once. But, while returning to the camp-ground, calmer reflections +arose, restraining him from the dastardly act, and deciding him to carry +out the other alternative, already conceived, but kept back as a +_dernier ressort_. + +"Sit down, _camarado_!" he says, addressing the adjutant on entering. +"We must hold a court-martial, and that is too serious a ceremonial to +be gone through without the customary forms. The members of the court +should be seated." + +The grim smile which accompanies his words shows that he means them in +jest only as regards the manner of proceeding. For the earnestness of +his intention there is that in his eyes--a fierce, lurid light, which +Roblez can read. + +In rejoinder the adjutant asks,-- + +"You are still resolved upon the death of the prisoners?" + +"Still resolved! Carramba! An idle question, after what has occurred! +They die within the hour. We shall try, condemn, and then have them +shot." + +"I thought you had arranged it in a different way?" + +"So I had. But circumstances alter cases. There's many a slip 'twixt +cup and lip, and I've just heard of one. The Horned Lizard has failed +me." + +"How so, colonel?" + +"You see that Indian outside. He's one of my muleteers I'd sent as a +messenger to the Tenawa town. He returns to tell me there's no Horned +Lizard in existence, and only a remnant of his tribe. Himself, with the +best of his braves, has gone to the happy hunting grounds; not +voluntarily, but sent thither by a party of Tejanos who fell foul of +them on a foray." + +"That's a strange tale," rejoins Roblez, adding, "And Barbato?" + +"Dead, too--gone with his red-skinned associates." + +"Certainly a singular occurrence--quite a coincidence." + +"A coincidence that leaves me in an awkward predicament, without my +expected executioners. Well, we must supply their places by +substituting our own cut-throats." + +"You'll find them willing, colonel. The little interlude of Miranda +getting loose, and making to run you through, has been all in your +favour. It affords sufficient pretext for court-martialling and +condemning both prisoners to be shot I've heard the men say so, and they +expect it." + +"They shall not be disappointed, nor have long to wait. The court has +finished its sitting, and given its verdict. Without dissenting voice, +the prisoners are condemned to death. So much for the sentence. Now to +carry it into execution." + +"How is the thing to be done?" + +"Call in the sergeant. With him I shall arrange that. And when you're +out, go among the men and say a word to prepare them for the measure. +You may tell them we've been trying the prisoners, and the result +arrived at." + +The adjutant steps out of the tent; and while Uraga is swallowing +another cup of Catalan to fortify him for his fearful purpose, the +sergeant enters. + +"_Sergente_! there's some business to be done of a delicate nature, and +you must take direction of it." + +The Serjeant salutes, and stands awaiting the explanation. The colonel +continues:-- + +"We intend taking our prisoners no farther--the men, I mean. With the +women we have nothing to do--as prisoners. After what you saw, we deem +it necessary that Don Valerian Miranda should die; and also the other, +who is equally incriminated as a traitor to the State--a rebel, an old +conspirator, well known. Lieutenant Roblez and I have held a court, and +decreed their death. So order the men to load their carbines, and make +ready to carry out the sentence." + +The sergeant simply nods assent, and, again saluting, is about to +retire, when Uraga stays him with a second speech. + +"Let all take part in the firing except Galvez. Post him as sentry over +the square tent. Direct him to stand by its entrance and see that the +flap is kept down. Under no circumstances is he to let either of its +occupants out. It's not a spectacle for women--above all, one of them. +Never mind; we can't help that I'm sorry myself, but duty demands this +rigorous measure. Now go. First give Galvez his orders; then to the +men and get them ready. Make no more noise than is necessary. Let your +lancers be drawn up in line; afoot, of course, and single file." + +"Where am I to place the prisoners, colonel?" + +"Ah! true; I did not think of that." + +Uraga steps to the entrance of the tent, and, looking forth, takes a +survey of the camp-ground. His eyes seek the spot occupied by the +prisoners. They are both again together, under the same tree where +first placed, a sentry keeping guard over them. The tree is a +cottonwood, with smooth stem and large limbs extending horizontally. +Another is near, so similar as to seem a twin; both being a little out +from the thick timber, which forms a dark background behind them. + +After regarding them a moment, scanning them as a lumberman would a log +intended for a saw-mill, Uraga directs. + +"Raise the prisoners upright, and tie one to each of those two trees. +Set their backs to the trunk. They've both been army men, and we won't +disgrace the cloth by shooting them from behind. That's grace enough +for rebels." + +The sergeant, saluting, is again about to go, only staying to catch some +final words of direction. They are-- + +"In ten minutes I shall expect you to have everything ready. When +you've got the stage set I shall myself appear upon it as an actor--the +Star of this pretty play!" + +And with a hoarse laugh at his horrid jest, the ruffian retires within +his tent. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE. + +THE HAND OF GOD. + +The sun is descending towards the crest of the Cordillera, his rays +becoming encrimsoned as twilight approaches. They fall like streams of +blood between the bluffs enclosing the valley of the Arroyo de Alamo, +their tint in unison with a tragedy there about to be enacted--in itself +strangely out of correspondence with the soft, tranquil scene. + +The stage is the encampment of Uraga and his detachment of lancers, now +set for the terrible spectacle soon to take place. + +The two tents are still standing as pitched, several paces apart. At +the entrance of the square one, with its flap drawn close and tied, a +soldier keeps sentry; that of conical shape being unguarded. + +Rearward, by the wood edge, are three horses and a mule, all four under +saddle, with bridles on; these attached to the branches of a tree. +There is no providence in this, but rather neglect. Since the purpose +for which they were caparisoned has proved abortive, they remain so only +from having been forgotten. + +The other troop-horses have been stripped, and, scattered over the mead, +are browsing at the length of their lariats. + +It is in the positions and attitudes of the men that a spectator might +read preparation; and of a kind from which he could not fail to deduce +the sequence of a sanguinary drama. Not one accompanied by much noise, +but rather solemn and silent; only a few words firmly spoken, to be +followed by a volley; in short, a military execution, or, as it might be +more properly designated, a military murder. + +The victims devoted are seen near the edge of the open ground--its lower +edge regarding the direction of the stream. They are in erect attitude, +each with his back to the trunk of a tree, to which with raw-hide ropes +they are securely lashed. No need telling who they are. The reader +knows them to be the prisoners lately lying prostrate near the same +place. + +In their front, and scarce ten paces distant, the lancers are drawn up +in line and single file. There are ten of them, the tenth a little +retired to the right, showing chevrons on his sleeve. He is the +sergeant in immediate command of the firing party. Farther rearward, +and close by the conical tent, and two in the uniform of officers, Uraga +and his adjutant. The former is himself about to pronounce the word of +command, the relentless expression upon his face, blent with a grim +smile that overspreads it, leading to believe that the act of diabolical +cruelty gives him gratification. Above, upon the cliff's brow, the +black vultures also show signs of satisfaction. With necks craned and +awry, the better to look below, they see preparations which instinct or +experience has taught them to understand. Blood is about to be spilled; +there will be flesh to afford them a feast. + +There is now perfect silence, after a scene which preceded; once more +Uraga having made overtures to Miranda, with promise of life under the +same scandalous conditions; as before, to receive the response, firmly +spoken,-- + +"No--never!" + +The patriot soldier prefers death to dishonour. + +His choice taken, he quails not. Tied to the trunk of the tree, he +stands facing his executioners without show of fear. If his cheeks be +blanched, and his bosom throbbing with tumultuous emotion, 'tis not at +sight of the firing party, or the guns held loaded in their hands. Far +other are his fears, none of them for himself, but all for his dear +sister--Adela. No need to dwell upon or describe them. They may be +imagined. + +And Don Prospero, brave and defiant too. He stands backed by the tree, +his eyes showing calm courage, his long silvered beard touching his +breast, not drooping or despairingly, but like one resigned to his fate, +and still firm in the faith that has led to it--a second Wickliffe at +the stake. + +The moment has arrived when the stillness becomes profound, like the +calm which precedes the first burst of a thunderstorm. The vultures +above, the horses and men below, are all alike silent. + +The birds, gazing intently, have ceased their harsh croaking; the +quadrupeds, as if startled by the very silence, forsaking the sweet +grass, have tossed their heads aloft, and so hold them. While the men, +hitherto speaking in whispers, no more converse, but stand mute and +motionless. They are going to deal death to two of their +fellow-creatures; and there is not one among them who does not know it +is a death undeserved--that he is about to commit murder! + +For all this, not one has a thought of staying his hand. Along the +whole line there is no heart amenable to mercy, no breast throbbing with +humanity. All have been in a like position before--drawn up to fire +upon prisoners, their countrymen. The patriots of their country, too; +for the followers of Gil Uraga are all of them picked adherents of the +_parti preter_. + +"_Sergente_!" asks Uraga, on coming forth from his tent, "is everything +ready?" + +"All ready," is the prompt reply. + +"Attention!" commands the Colonel, stepping a pace or two forward, and +speaking in a low tone, though loud enough to be heard by the lancers. + +"Make ready!" + +The carbines are raised to the ready. + +"Take aim!" + +The guns are brought to the level, their bronzed barrels glistening +under the rays of the setting sun, with muzzles pointed at the +prisoners. They who grasp them but wait for the word "Fire!" + +It is forming itself on Gil Uraga's lips. But before he can speak there +comes a volley, filling the valley with sound, and the space around the +prisoners with smoke. The reports of more than forty pieces speak +almost simultaneously, none of them with the dull detonation of cavalry +carbines, but the sharper ring of the rifle! + +While the last crack is still reverberating from the rocks, Uraga sees +his line of lancers prostrate along the sward; their guns, escaped from +their grasp, scattered beside them, still undischarged! + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR. + +"SAUVE QUI PEUT." + +At sight of his soldiers cut down like ripe corn before the reaper, +Uraga stands in stupefied amaze; his adjutant the same. Both are alike +under the spell of a superstitious terror. For the blow, so sudden and +sweeping, seems given by God's own hand. They might fancy it a _coup +d'eclair_. But the jets of fire shooting forth from the forest edge, +through a cloud of sulphurous smoke, are not flashes of lightning; nor +the rattle that accompanies them the rolling of thunder, but the reports +of firearms discharged in rapid succession. While in shouts following +the shots there is no accent of Heaven; on the contrary, the cries are +human, in the voices of men intoned to a terrible vengeance. + +Though every one of the firing party has fallen, sergeant as well as +rank and file, the two officers are still untouched. So far they have +been saved by the interposition of the formed line. But straggling +shots succeed, and bullets are whizzing past their ears. + +These, quickening their instincts, rouse them from their stupefaction; +and both, turning from the direction of the danger, looked to the other +side for safety. + +At first wildly and uncertain, for they are still under a weird +impression, with senses half bewildered. + +Neither has a knowledge of the enemy that has made such havoc among +their men; only an instinct or intuition that the blow has been struck +by those terrible _Tejanos_, for the shots heard were the cracks of +rifles, and the shouts, still continued, are not Indian yells nor +Mexican vivas, but the rough hurrahs of the Anglo-Saxon. + +While standing in hesitancy, they hear a voice raised above the rest-- +one which both recognise. Well do they remember it, pealing among the +waggons on that day of real ruthless carnage. + +Glancing back over their shoulders, they see him who sends it forth--the +giant guide of the caravan. He has just broken from the timber's edge, +and in vigorous bounds is advancing towards them. Another is by his +side, also recognised. With trembling frame, and heart chilled by fear, +Uraga identifies his adversary in the duel at Chihuahua. + +Neither he nor his subordinate remains a moment longer on the ground. +No thought now of carrying off their female captives, no time to think +of them. Enough, and they will be fortunate, if they can themselves +escape. + +Better for both to perish there by the sides of their slain comrades. +But they know not this, and only yield to the common instinct of +cowardice, forcing them to flee. + +Fortune seems to favour them. For animals fully caparisoned stand +behind the conical tent. They are these that were in readiness for a +flight of far different kind, since unthought of--altogether forgotten. + +Good luck their being saddled and bridled now. So think Uraga and +Roblez as they rush towards them. So thinks Galvez, who is also making +to mount one. The sentry has forsaken his post, leaving the marquee +unguarded. When a lover no longer cares for his sweetheart, why should +he for a captive. + +And in the _sauve-qui-peut_ scramble there is rarely a regard for rank, +the colonel counting for no more than the corporal. Obedient to this +levelling instinct, Galvez, who has arrived first on the ground, selects +the best steed of the three--this being the horse of Hamersley. + +Grasping the bridle, and jerking it from the branch, he springs upon the +animal's back and starts to ride off. Almost as soon the two officers +get astride, Roblez on his own charger, the mustang mare being left to +Uraga. From her mistress he must part thus unceremoniously, covered +with ignominious shame! + +The thought is torture, and for a time stays him. + +A dire, damnable purpose flashes across his brain, and for an instant +holds possession of his heart. It is to dismount, make for the marquee, +enter it, and kill Adela Miranda--thrust her through with his sword. + +Fortunately for her, the coward's heart fails him. + +He will not have time to do the murder and remount his horse. The +Rangers are already in the open ground and rushing towards him, Wilder +and Hamersley at their head. In a minute more they will be around him. + +He hesitates no longer, but, smothering his chagrin and swallowing his +unappeased vengeance, puts whip and spur to the mustang mare, going off +as fast as she can carry him. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE. + +DIVIDED BY DUTY. + +But for a half-score men lying dead along the earth, their warm blood +welling from wounds where bullets have passed through their bodies, the +gory drops here and there like dew bedecking the blades of grass, or in +fuller stream settling down into the sand--but for this, the too real +evidence of death, one who entered the camp of Uraga as the Mexican +Colonel is riding out of it might fancy himself spectator of a pantomime +during the scene of transformation. In the stage spectacle, not quicker +or more contrasting could be the change. + +The gaily-apparelled lancers, with their plumes, pennons, and tassels, +representing the sprites and sylphides of the pantomime, are succeeded +by men who look real life. Big bearded men, habited in homespun; some +wearing buckskin, others blanket coats; all carrying guns, bowie-knives, +and pistols; the first smoking at the muzzles, as freshly fired, the +last held in hand, ready to be discharged as soon as somebody worth +shooting at shows himself. + +Entering the open ground ahead of the others, Hamersley and Wilder +glance around in search of this somebody, both thinking of the same. +They see stretched along the sward ten soldiers dead as herrings on a +string, but among them no one wearing the uniform of an officer-- +certainly not him they are after. + +Their first glance is unrewarded, but their second gives all they seek. +Behind a tent, and partially screened by the trees, three men are in the +act of mounting three horses. One is already in the saddle and moving +away, the other two have just set foot in the stirrup. The roan mounted +is unknown to the pursuers; but his animal is recognised by them. It is +Hamersley's own horse! Of the other two but one is identified, and him +only by Hamersley. He sees Gil Uraga. + +A cry from the Kentuckian expresses disappointment. For on the instant +after sighting the Mexican officers the latter have leaped into their +saddles and gone off at a full gallop. A rifle shet might yet reach +them; but the guns of both Kentuckian and Texan are empty. Their +revolvers are loaded to no purpose. The retreating horsemen are beyond +pistol range! + +Sure of this, they do not think of firing. And afoot, as all the +Rangers are--having left the horses behind to steal forward--they feel +helpless to pursue for the present. While hesitating, a circumstance +occurs giving Hamersley a hope. The man who has mounted his horse finds +a difficulty in managing him. As a Mexican he sits the saddle to +perfection, but cannot make the animal go the way he wants. + +From behind the horse has heard neighing, which he knows to come from +the steeds of his own race, and, knowing this, has resolved to rub noses +with them. + +In vain Galvez kicks against his ribs, beats him about the head, and +makes frantic efforts to urge him on. He but rears in the opposite +direction, backing so far as to bring his rider within reach of the +revolver held in the hands of Hamersley. Its crack rings clear--not +needing to be repeated or the cylinder turned. At the first explosion +the soldier is seen to spring from the saddle, dropping dead without +kick or cry, while the steed, disembarrassed, sheers round and comes +trotting towards the place whence the shot proceeded. + +In a moment more its real master has hold of the bridle-rein, his shout +of joy answered by a whimper of recognition. + +Seeing how matters stand, the Rangers hasten back to get possession of +their horses; others make for those of the fallen lancers, that now in +affright are rearing and straining at the end of their trail-ropes in a +vain endeavour to break loose. + +For neither can Hamersley wait. It will take time, which his +impatience--his burning thirst for vengeance--cannot brook. He is +thinking of his slain comrades, whose bones lie unburied on the sands of +the Canadian; also of the outrage so near being perpetrated, so +opportunely interrupted. + +But one thought stays him--Adela. Where is she? Is she safe? He turns +towards the marquee late guarded by Galvez. A very different individual +is now seen at its entrance. Walt Wilder, with bowie-knife bared, its +blade cutting the cords that kept the tent closed. In an instant they +are severed, the flap flies open, and two female forms rush forth. In +another instant one of them is lying along Hamersley's breast, the other +in the embrace of Wilder. Kisses and words are exchanged. Only a few +of the latter, till Hamersley, withdrawing himself from the arms that +softly entwine him, tells of his intention to part. + +"For what purpose?" is the interrogatory, asked in tremulous accents, +and with eyes that speak painful surprise. + +"To redress my wrongs and yours, Adela," is the response firmly spoken. + +"_Santissima_!" she exclaims, seeing her lover prepare to spring into +the saddle. "Francisco! Stay with me. Do not again seek danger. The +wretch is not worthy of your vengeance." + +"'Tis not vengeance, but justice. 'Tis my duty to chastise this crime-- +the greatest on earth. Something whispers me 'tis a destiny, and I +shall succeed. Dearest Adela, do not stay me. There is no danger. I +shall be back soon, bringing Uraga's sword, perhaps himself, along with +me." + +"Thar's odds again ye, Frank," interposes Wilder. "Two to one. If I +foller afoot I mayn't be up in time. An' the boys that's gone arter +thar critters, they'll be too late." + +"Never mind the odds! I'll make it up with the five shots still in my +revolver. See, dearest, your brother is coming this way. Go meet and +tell him I shall soon return with a prisoner to be exchanged for him. +Another kiss! _Adios! hasta luego_!" + +Tearing himself from arms so reluctant to release him, he bounds upon +the back of his horse and spurs off, soon disappearing among the trees. + +Scarce is he out of sight when another quadruped is seen galloping +after--not a horse, but a hybrid. + +Walt Wilder has espied the saddled mule hitched up behind the tent--that +intended for Conchita. It is now ridden by the ex-Ranger, who, prodding +it with the point of his bowie, puts it to its best speed. + +And soon after go other horsemen--the Texans who have recovered their +steeds, with some who have caught those of the troopers, rapidly bridled +and mounted them bare-back. + +They who stay behind become spectators of a scene strange and tender. +Two male prisoners unexpectedly rescued--snatched, as it were, from the +jaws of death--two female captives alike saved from dishonour. A +brother embracing his sister, whose noble affection but the moment +before prompted her to share with him the first sooner than submit to +the last. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX. + +THE CHASE. + +Hamersley has his horse fairly astretch ere the fugitives, though out of +sight, are many hundred yards ahead; for the scenes and speeches +recorded occupied but a few seconds of time. + +He is confident of being able to overtake them. He knows his Kentucky +charger is more than a match for any Mexican horse, and will soon bring +him up with Uraga and the other officer. If they should separate he +will follow the former. + +As he rides on he sees they cannot go far apart. There is a sheer +precipice on each side--the bluffs that bound the creek bottom. These +will keep the pursued men together, and he will have both to deal with. + +The ground is such that they cannot possibly escape him except by +superior speed. He can see the cliffs on each side to their bases. +There is not enough underwood for a horseman to hide in. + +He hastens on, therefore, supposing them still before him. + +In ten minutes more he is sure of it--they are in sight! + +The timber through which the chase has hitherto led abruptly terminates, +a long grassy mead of over a mile in length lying beyond; and beyond it +the trees again obstruct the vista up the valley. The retreating +horsemen have entered upon this open tract, but not got far over it, +when Hamersley spurs his horse out of the timber tract, and pursuer and +pursued are in sight of other. + +It is now a tail-on-end chase, all three horses going at the greatest +speed to which their riders can press them. It is evident that the +large American horse is rapidly gaining upon the Mexican mustangs, and, +if no accident occur, will soon be alongside them. + +Hamersley perceives this, and, casting a glance ahead, calculates the +distance to where the timber again commences. To overtake them before +they can reach it is the thought uppermost in his mind. Once among the +tree-trunks they can go as fast as he, for there the superior fleetness +of his horse will not avail. Besides, there may be a thick underwood, +giving them a chance of concealment. + +He must come up with them before they can reach the cover, and to this +end he once more urges his animal both with spur and speech. + +At this moment Roblez looking back, perceives there is but one man in +chase of them. A long stretch of open plain in his rear, and no other +pursuer upon it. Brigand though he be, the adjutant possesses real +courage. And there are two of them, in full health and strength, both +armed with sabres, himself carrying a pair of dragoon pistols in his +holsters. Those belonging to Uraga are nearer to the hand of +Hamersley--having been left upon the saddle which the colonel, in his +hasty retreat, had been hindered from occupying. + +"_Carajo_!" exclaims Roblez, "there's but one of them after us. The +others haven't had time to get mounted, and won't be up for a while. +It's some rash fool who's got your horse under him. Let's turn upon +him, colonel." + +The coward thus appealed to cannot refuse compliance. In an instant the +two wheel round, and, with blades bared, await the approach of the +pursuer. + +In a dozen more strides of his horse Hamersley is on the ground. Uraga +now recognises his antagonist in the Chihuahua duel--the man he hates +above all others on earth. + +This, hatred, intense as it is, does not supply him with courage. In +the eye of the pursuer coming on, when close up, Uraga reads a terrible +expression--that of the avenger! + +Something whispers him his hour has come, and with shrinking heart and +palsied arm he awaits the encounter. + +As said, the two Mexican officers carry swords, cavalry sabres. Against +these the Kentuckian has no weapon for parrying or defence. He is but +ill-armed for the unequal strife, having only a Colt's revolver with one +chamber empty, and, as a _dernier ressort_, the single-barrelled pistols +in the holsters. + +Quickly perceiving his disadvantage, he checks up before coming too +close, and with his revolver takes aim, and fires at the nearest of his +antagonists, who is Roblez. + +The shot tells, tumbling the lancer lieutenant out of his saddle, and +making more equal the chances of the strife. + +But there is no more fighting, nor the show of it, for Uraga, on seeing +his comrade fall, and once more catching sight of that avenging glance +that glares at him as if from the eyes of Nemesis, wrenches the mustang +round, and rides off in wild retreat; his sword, held loosely, likely to +drop from his grasp. + +Soon it does drop, for Hamersley, following in close pursuit, delivers a +second shot from the revolver. The bullet hits the extended sword arm; +the naked blade whirls out, and falls with a ring upon the meadow turf. + +Uraga rides on without looking back. He has not even courage to turn +his face towards his antagonist. He thinks only of reaching the timber, +in a despairing hope he may there find shelter and safety. + +It is not his destiny to reach it; the pursuer is too close upon his +heels. The head of Hamersley's horse is swept by the mustang's tail, +its long, white hair spread comet-like behind. + +Once more the revolver is raised, its muzzle pointed at the retreating +coward. The pressing of its trigger would send a bullet into his back. +It is not pressed. + +As if from mercy or mere caprice Hamersley suddenly transfers the pistol +to his left hand. Then, forcing his horse to a long leap forward, he +lays hold of Uraga with his right. + +Grasping the Mexican by the sword-belt and jerking him out of the +saddle, he dashes him down to the earth. Then reining up, with the +revolver once more in his right hand, he cries out-- + +"Lie still, you ruffian! Don't move an inch! I have four shots to +spare, and if you attempt to stir, one of them will quiet you." + +The admonition is not needed. Uraga, stunned by the shock for a time, +makes no movement. He is insensible. + +Before he comes to himself the Rangers have ridden up, with Walt Wilder +at their head. They proceed to make prisoners of the two men, neither +of whom has been killed in the encounter. + +Better for both if they had. For they are now in the hands of men who +will surely doom them to a death less easy thar that they had escaped. + +Their fate is inevitable. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN. + +THE CAMP TRANSFORMED. + +Another sun rises over the Llano Estacado, his beams gilding with ruddy +glow the brown basaltic cliffs that enclose the valley of the Arroyo de +Alamo. + +On projecting points of these, above the spot chosen by Uraga for his +camp, the black vultures are still perched. Though 'tis not their usual +roosting-place, they have remained there all night, now and then giving +utterance to their hoarse, guttural croaks, when some howling, predatory +quadruped--coyote or puma--approaching too near, has startled them from +their dozing slumbers. As the first rays of the sun rouse them to +activity, their movements tell why they have stayed. No longer at rest, +or only at intervals, they flit from rock to rock, and across the valley +from cliff to cliff, at times swooping so low that their wings almost +touch the topmost twigs of the trees growing upon the banks of the +stream. All the while with necks astretch, and eyes glaring in hungry +concupiscence. For below they perceive the materials of a repast--a +grand, gluttonous feast--no longer in doubtful expectation, but now +surely provided for them. + +Ten men lie prostrate upon the sward; not asleep, as the vultures well +know--nor yet reclining to rest themselves. Their attitudes are +evidence against this. They lie with bodies bent and limbs stiff, some +of them contorted to unnatural postures. Besides, on the grass-blades +around are drops and gouts of blood, grown black during the night, +looking as if it had rained ink; while little pools of the same are here +and there seen, dull crimson and coagulated. + +From these sanguinary symbols the vultures are well aware that the +recumbent forms are neither asleep nor reposing. Every bird knows that +every man of them is dead; and, though still clad in the uniform of +soldiers, with all the gay insignia of lancers, they are but clay-cold +corpses. + +It is the firing party, still lying as it fell; not a figure disturbed, +not a coat stripped off nor pocket rifled; no strap, plume, or pennon +displaced since the moment when all dropped dead almost simultaneously +at the detonation of the Rangers' rifles. + +Except the tents, which are still set as before, this cluster of corpses +is the only thing seeming unchanged since yesterday's sun went down. +For it was after sunset when the pursuers returned, bringing their +prisoners along with them. As on yesterday, two captives are seen under +the same tree, where late lay Don Valerian and the doctor. But +different men, with quite another style of sentry standing over them. +The latter, a rough-garbed, big-bearded Texan, full six feet in height, +shouldering a gun whose butt, when rested on the ground, places the +muzzle within an inch of his chin. No need to say who are the two he is +guarding. At his feet Uraga lies, crestfallen, with a craven look upon +his face, like a fox in the trap; his splendid habiliments torn, +mud-bedaubed, bedraggled. Besides him his adjutant, Roblez--his +confederate in many a crime--also showing signs of having received rough +treatment, but not without resenting it. His aspect is that of a tiger +encaged, chafing at the torture, regardless of what may be the end. On +the camp ground are seen some sixty horses with half-a-dozen mules. +About fifty of the former are under saddle and bridle, as if soon to be +mounted. The others have lariats around their necks, intended to be +led. + +A few men--those of inferior standing--look after the animals; while the +larger number is gathered into a group near the centre of the camp +ground. Their air, attitudes, earnest speech, and excited +gesticulations tell they are taking counsel on some matter of serious +import. + +Walt Wilder is among them, Hamersley being absent. The latter is inside +the square tent, in pleasanter companionship. + +He is seated upon a _catre_, Adela by his side, her hand clasping his. +This without any bashfulness or reserve at her brother being present. +Which he is, along with the dear old doctor, both now released from +their bonds. It is a tableau of true love, wreathed with fraternal +affection. + +With devotion also, of an humbler kind, Conchita is passing out and in, +rejoicing in a general way. She pays no attention to a peon who lies +tied behind the tent--Jose; and gives only scorn to another seen fast +bound beside him--Manuel. + +Notwithstanding her knowledge that this man is madly in love with her-- +for she now also knows how much he has been a traitor--her thoughts, as +her eyes, are upon one more true--on her grand, gallant _Tejano_! She +is proud to observe the distinguished part he plays among his +_compaisanos_. For, in truth, Walt is doing this. Standing a half head +taller than any of the Rangers around him, he is alike leader in their +deliberations, those the most serious in which men can be engaged. + +No question of life and death. It has been, but is no longer. The +latter has been unanimously decreed, the verdict declared, the sentence +pronounced. Their talk now only relates to the manner of execution. + +The Ranger Captain, who presides, puts the interrogatory thus: + +"Well, boys, what are we to do with them? Shoot or hang?" + +"Hang!" is the response from more than a majority of voices. + +"Shootin' is too clean a death for scoundrels sech as them," is the +commentary of a voice recognisable as that of Nat Cully. + +"They ought to be scalped, skinned, an' quartered," adds a man disposed +to severer punishment. + +"Yes!" affirms another of the like inclining. "A bit of torture +wouldn't be more than the rascals deserve." + +"Come, comrades!" cries the Ranger Captain. "Remember, we are Texans, +and not savages like those we're about to punish. Sufficient to send +them out of the world without acting inhumanly. You all declare for +hanging?" + +"All!" + +"Enough! Where shall we string them up?" + +"Yonner's a pick spot," responds Wilder, pointing out the two trees to +which Don Valerian and the doctor had been lately lashed. "They kin +each hev a branch separate, so's not to crowd one the t'other in makin' +tracks to etarnity." + +"Jest the place!" endorses Cully. "Kedn't be a better gallis if the +sheriff o' Pike County, Massoury, had rigged it up hisself. We'll gie +'em a tree apiece, as they war about to do wi' thar innocent prisoners. +Takin' their places'll be turn an' turn about. That's fair, I reckin." + +"Boys!" cries Walt, "look out a cupple o' layvettes, an' fetch 'em this +way." + +Several start towards the horse-drove, and soon return with the +trail-ropes. Then all proceed towards the two trees. Each chances to +have a large limb extending horizontally outward from the trunk. Over +each a tazo is flung, one end left loose, the other remaining in the +hand of him who pitched it. Before flinging them the rope has been +passed through the iron ring with which all lariats are provided, thus +furnishing a ready-made running noose. + +"Who's to haul up?" asks the Ranger Captain; adding, "Boys! 'Taint a +nice business, I know; but I suppose there's some of you willing to +undertake it." + +Some of them! + +Forty voices, nearly all present, are heard crying out with one accord-- + +"I'm willing!" + +In fact, every man upon the ground seems eager to take part in a duty +which, under other circumstances, would be not only disagreeable, but +disgusting to them. Rough, rude men as most of the Rangers are, little +prone to delicate sentimentalism, they are, nevertheless, true to the +ordinary instincts of humanity. Accustomed to seeing blood spilled, and +not squeamish about spilling it if it be that of a red-skinned foe, it +is different when the complexion is white. + +In the present case they have no scruples on the score of colour. What +has been told them about their two prisoners--the atrocities these have +committed--puts all this aside. The tale has made a profound impression +upon their minds; and, beyond any motive of mere revenge, they are +stirred by a sense of just retribution. Every man of them feels as if +it were his sacred duty to deal out justice, and administer the +punishment of death to criminals so surely deserving it. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT. + +A LIVING SCAFFOLD. + +Captain Haynes, seeing there will be no difficulty in obtaining +executioners, deems everything settled, and is about ordering the +prisoners to be brought up. Being a man of humane feelings, with +susceptibilities that make him somewhat averse to performing the part of +sheriff, it occurs to him that he can avoid the disagreeable duty by +appointing a deputy. + +For this he selects Walt Wilder, who in turn chooses Nat Cully to assist +him. The two assume superintendence of the ceremony, and the Ranger +Captain retires from the ground. + +After communing for some seconds between themselves, and in _sotto +voce_, as if arranging the mode of execution, Walt faces round to the +assembled Texans, saying-- + +"Wal, boys, thar 'pears to be no stint o' hangmen among ye. This chile +niver seed so many o' the Jack Ketch kind since he fust set foot on the +soil o' Texas. Maybe it's the smell o' these Mexikins makes ye so +savagerous." + +Walt's quaint speech elicits a general laugh, but suppressed. The scene +is too solemn for an ebullition of boisterous mirth. The ex-Ranger +continues-- + +"I see you'll want to have a pull at these ropes. But I reckon we'll +have to disapp'int ye. The things we're agoin' to swing up don't +desarve hoistin' to etarnity by free-born citizens o' the Lone Star +State. 'Twould be a burnin' shame for any Texan to do the hangin' o' +sech skunks as they." + +"What do you mean, Walt?" one asks. "Somebody must hoist them up!" + +"'Taint at all necessary. They kin be strung 'ithout e'er a hand +techin' trail-rope." + +"How?" inquire several voices. + +"Wal, thar's a way Nat Cully an' me hev been speaking o'. I've heern o' +them Mexikins practisin' themselves on thar Injun prisoners for sport. +We'll gie' 'em a dose o' their own medicine. Some o' you fellows go an' +fetch a kupple o' pack mules. Ye may take the saddles off--they won't +be needed." + +Half-a-dozen of the Rangers rush out, and return leading two mules, +having hastily stripped off their alparejas. + +"Now!" cries Walt, "conduct hyar the kriminals!" + +A party proceeds to the spot where the two prisoners lie; and taking +hold, raise them to an erect attitude. Then, half carrying, half +dragging, bring them under the branches designed for their gallows-tree. + +With their splendid uniforms torn, mud-bedaubed, and stained with spots +of blood, they present a sorry spectacle. They resemble wounded wolves, +taken in a trap; nevertheless, bearing their misfortune in a far +different manner. Roblez looks the large, grey wolf--savage, reckless, +unyielding; Uraga, the coyote--cowed, crestfallen, shivering; in fear of +what may follow. + +For a time neither speaks a word nor makes an appeal for mercy. They +seem to know it would be idle. Regarding the faces around, they may +well think so. There is not one but has "death" plainly stamped upon +it, as if the word itself were upon every lip. + +There is an interval of profound silence, only broken by the croak of +the buzzards and the swish of their spread wings. The bodies of the +dead lancers lie neglected; and, the Rangers now further off, the birds +go nearer them. Wolves, too, begin to show themselves by the edge of +the underwood--from the stillness thinking the time arrived to commence +their ravenous repast. It has but come to increase the quantity of food +soon to be spread before them. + +"Take off thar leg fastenin's!" commands Wilder, pointing to the +prisoners. + +In a trice the lashings are loosed from their ankles, and only the ropes +remain confining their wrists--these drawn behind their backs, and there +made fast. + +"Mount 'em on the mules!" + +As the other order, this is instantly executed; and the two prisoners +are set astride on the hybrids, each held by a man at its head. + +"Now fix the snares roun' thar thrapples. Make the other eends fast by +giein' them a wheen o' turn over them branches above. See as ye draw +'em tight 'ithout streetchin'." + +Walt's orders are carried out quickly, and to the letter, for the men +executing them now comprehend what is meant. They also, too well, who +are seated upon the backs of the mules. It is an old trick of their +own. They know they are upon a scaffold--a living scaffold--with a +halter and running noose around their necks. + +"Now, Nat!" says Walt, in undertone to Cully. "I guess we may spring +the trap? Git your knife riddy." + +"It's hyar." + +"You take the critter to the left. I'll look arter that on the right." + +The latter is bestridden by Uraga. With Walt's ideas of duty are +mingled memories that prompt to revenge. He remembers his comrades +slaughtered upon the sands of the Canadian, himself left buried alive. +With a feeling almost jubilant--natural, considering the circumstances, +scarce reprehensible--he takes his stand by the side of the mule which +carries Colonel Uraga. At the same time Cully places himself beside +that bestridden by Roblez. + +Both have their bowie-knives in hand, the blades bare. One regarding +them, a stranger to their intent, might think they meant slaughtering +either the mules or the men on their backs. + +They have no such thought, but a design altogether different, as +declared by Wilder's words--the last spoken by him before the act of +execution. + +"When I gie the signal, Nat, prod yur critter sharp, an' sweep the +support from unner them. They've been thegither in this world in the +doin' o' many a rascally deed. Let's send 'em thegither inter the +next." + +"All right, ole hoss! I'll be riddy," is the laconic rejoinder of +Cully. + +After it another interval of silence, resembling that which usually +precedes the falling of the gallows drop. So profound, that the chirp +of a tree cricket, even the rustling of a leaf, would seem a loud noise. +So ominous, that the vultures perched upon the summit of the cliff +crane out their necks to inquire the cause. + +The stillness is interrupted by a shout; not the signal promised by +Wilder, but a cry coming from the lips of Uraga. + +In the last hour of anguish his craven heart has given way, and he makes +a piteous appeal for mercy. Not to those near him, knowing it would +scarce be listened to; but to the man he has much wronged, calling out +his name, "Colonel Miranda." + +On hearing it Don Valerian rushes forth from the tent, his sister by his +side, Hamersley with the doctor behind. All stand in front regarding +the strange spectacle, of which they have been unconscious, seemingly +prepared for them. There can be no mistaking its import. The _mise en +scene_ explains it, showing the stage set for an execution. + +If they have a thought of interfering it is too late. While they stand +in suspense, a shout reaches them, followed by explanatory words. + +They are in the voice of Walt Wilder, who has said-- + +"Death to the scoundrels! Now, Nat, move your mule forrard!" + +At the same instant he and Cully are seen leaning towards the two mules, +which bound simultaneously forward, as if stung by hornets or bitten by +gadflys. + +But neither brings its rider along. The latter--both of them--stay +behind; not naturally, as dismounted and thrown to the earth; but, like +the cradle of Mahomet, suspended between earth and heaven. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE. + +AFTER THE EXECUTION. + +It is mid-day over the Arroyo de Alamo. + +The same sun whose early morning rays fell around the deliberating +lynchers, at a later hour lighting up a spectacle of execution, has +mounted to the meridian, and now glares down upon a spectacle still +sanguinary, though with tableaux changed. + +The camp is deserted. There are no tents, no Texans, no horses, nor yet +any mules. All have disappeared from the place. + +True, Uraga and his lancers are still there--in body, not in spirit. +Their souls have gone, no one may know whither. Only their clay-cold +forms remain, us left by the Rangers--the common soldiers lying upon the +grass, the two officers swinging side by side, from the trees, with +broken necks, drooping heads, and limbs dangling down--all alike +corpses. + +Not for long do they stay unchanged--untouched. + +Scarce has the last hoof-stroke of the Texan horses died away down the +valley, when the buzzards forsake their perch upon the bluff, and swoop +down to the creek bottom. + +Simultaneously the wolves--grand grey and coyote--come sneaking out from +the thicket's edge; at first cautiously, soon with bolder front, +approaching the abandoned bodies. + +To the bark of the coyote, the bay of the bigger wolf, and the buzzard's +hoarse croak, a _caracara_ adds its shrill note; the fiend-like chorus +further strengthened by the scream of the white-headed eagle--for all +the world like the filing of a frame saw, and not unlike the wild, +unmeaning laughter of a madman. + +Both the predatory birds and the ravening beasts, with instincts in +accord, gather around the quarry killed for them. There is a grand +feast--a banquet for all; and they have no need to quarrel over it. But +they do--the birds having to stand back till the beasts have eaten their +fill. + +The puma, or panther, takes precedence--the so-called lion of America. +A sorry brute to bear the name belonging to the king of quadrupeds. +Still, on the Llano Estacado, lord of all, save when confronted by the +grizzly bear--then he becomes a cat. + +As no grizzly has yet come upon the ground, and only two panthers, the +wolves have it almost their own way, and only the vultures and eagles +have to hold back. But for the birds there is a side dish on which they +may whet their appetites, beyond reach of the beasts. To their share +fall the two suspended from the trees; and, driven off from the others, +they attack these with beak and talon, flapping around, settling upon +the branches above, on the shoulders of the corpses, thick as honey-bees +upon a branch, pecking out eyes, tearing at flesh, mutilating man--God's +image--in every conceivable mode. + +No; there is one left, peculiar to man himself. Strange, at this +crisis, he should appear to give exhibition of it. By pure chance--a +sheer contingency--though not less deserving record. + +The beasts and birds while engaged in devouring the dead bodies are +interrupted and scared away from their filthy repast, retreating +suddenly from the ground at sight of their masters--men, who +unexpectedly appear upon it. + +These are not the Rangers returning, but a band of Jicarilla Apaches-- +young braves out on a roving excursion. They have come down the creek, +making for the Pecos, and so chanced to stray into the deserted camp. + +Surprised at the spectacle there presented to their eyes, they are not +the less delighted. More than a dozen dead men, with scalps untaken! +They can see there has been a fight, but do not stay to think who have +been the victors. Their thoughts are turned towards the vanquished, +their eyes resting on heads that still carry their covering of hair. In +a trice their blades are bare, and it is cut off--the skin along with +it--to the skull of the last lancer! + +Neither does Uraga nor his lieutenant escape the scalping-knife. Before +the savages part from the spot, the crowns of both show crimson, while +the scalps stripped off appear as trophies on the points of two Apache +spears. + +Not long do the Indians dally on the ghastly ground. Soon forsaking it, +they continue on down the creek. Not in pursuit of the party which has +so opportunely furnished them with spear-pennons and fringes for their +leggings. The testimony of so many dead men, with the tracks of so many +horses--horses with large hoofs, evidently not ridden by Mexicans, whom +they contemn, but Texans they terribly fear; these evidences make the +Apaches cautious, and, keeping on towards the Pecos, they go not as +pursuers, but men trying to shun the party that has passed before. + +In this they are successful. They never sight the returning Texans, nor +these them. The Rangers go down the river; the savages up stream. Of +all Apaches, of all Indians, the Jicarillas are the most contemptible +cowards. Dastards to the last degree, the young "braves" who mutilated +the slain lancers will return to their tribe to tell of scalps fairly +taken in fight! + +And while they are boasting, the wolves, eagles, and vultures will be +back among the dead bodies, strip them of their flesh, and leave nought +but their bones to bleach white; in time to become dust, and mingle with +the earth on which they once moved in all the pride of manhood and +panoply of war! + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY. + +TRANQUIL SCENES. + +The last act of our drama is recorded, the last sanguinary scene. All +red enough, the reader will say, while the keenly susceptible one may +deem them too red. Alas! the writer is not answerable for this. He but +depicts life as it exists on the borderland between Mexico and Texas. +Those who doubt its reality, and would deem him drawing upon +imagination, should read the Texan newspapers of that time, or those of +this very day. In either he will find recorded occurrences as strange, +incidents as improbable, episodes as romantic, and tragedies of hue +sanguinary as any recorded in this mere romance. + +Not always with such a satisfactory termination. Fortunately for our +tale and its readers, Nemesis, in dealing out death and meting +vengeance, has necessarily allied herself with Justice. The fallen +deserved their fate--all, save the teamsters of the caravan, and those +Texans who on Pecan Creek succumbed to the Comanche spears. + +These victims, like stage supernumeraries, living nameless and dying +unknown, though their fate may stir our sympathy it does not appeal to +the painful depths of sorrow. More easily can it be borne, reflecting +on the brighter fate of the survivors. + +It can give no painful sensation to tell that Colonel Miranda and his +sister accompanied Frank Hamersley on his return to the States, Don +Prospero and the New Mexican damsel, Conchita, being of the party, which +had for escort across the plains Captain Haynes and his company of Texan +Rangers, their old comrade, Walt Wilder, travelling along, and, with Nat +Cully, narrating around their nightly camp fires many a strange "scrape" +of the mountains and prairies. Two subsequent scenes alone seem worthy +of record, both fairly deserving it. + +The first occurs in a little country church in the celebrated "Blue +Grass district" of Kentucky. Within its walls have assembled some +scores of the very bluest blood of this blue grass country--stalwart, +handsome men, alongside a like number of lovely women. They are +assisting at a marriage ceremony, not an uncommon occurrence in a +church. But in the Kentuckian place of worship--a little rural edifice, +far away from any town--it is something unusual to see three couples +standing before the altar. In the present case there is this number, +none of the pairs strangers to the other two, but all three, by mutual +agreement and understanding, to take Hymen's oath at the same time. + +Foremost and first to put the ring on his bride's finger is Frank +Hamersley. She who holds out her hand to receive it is Adela Miranda. + +Of the couple coming next, the bridegroom is known to the reader. A +handsome man, of dark complexion and pure Spanish features, remarked by +the spectators as having resemblance to those of Hamersley's new-made +bride. Not strange, he being her brother. + +But who is the lady, the tall, fair girl consenting to make Don Valerian +happy, so like Hamersley himself. + +No one asks this question, all present knowing she is his sister. + +A fair exchange between the brothers of the bride; each equally quick to +fall in love with the sister of the other. On the sterile Llano +Estacado it took scarce a minute for the dark Mexican maiden to subdue +the heart of Hamersley. Almost as soon, in the fertile State of +Kentucky, has his bright-skinned, blonde-haired sister made conquest of +the Mexican Colonel. + +The third pair that presents itself to be made man and wife--who are +they? The bridegroom stands six feet two in his boots; the bride, in +her satin slippers, far under five. Without thinking of the +disproportion in their stature, the reader will recognise Walt Wilder +and Conchita. + +As the ex-Ranger puts the ring on the finger of his blushing bride, he +accompanies the act with certain ludicrous protestations of fidelity not +to be found in the printed ritual of the Church. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Another scene ends our tale; a simple episode of every-day life; but +life in a strange land, remote from the ordinary centres of +civilisation. + +It occurs in New Mexico, in itself a sort of oasis in the great middle +desert of North America. Locally, the scene takes place near +Albuquerque, on the azotea of a handsome house, which commands a view of +the town. + +It is the mansion once belonging to Don Valerian Miranda. + +That its former master has retained possession of it is evident from the +fact of his being again on its roof, tranquilly smoking a cigaretto; +while near by him is his sister. Though one dearer stands between--his +wife. Adela is not distressed by her brother's preference for the new +mistress of the mansion. She has a mansion of her own, independent. +Though far off, its master, Frank Hamersley, is near. + +Near, also, in the court-yard below is Walt Wilder, in his grotesque way +playing Benedict to Conchita. While up and down moves the doctor, +sharing the general joy. + +Outside, upon the plain, the white tilts of twenty waggons, with the +smoke of camp-fires rising over them, tell of a trader's caravan. It is +Hamersley's--late arrived--_en route_ for the Rio Abajo and El Paso del +Norte. + +Its teamsters take their siesta, reposing in full confidence. No fear +of Indian attacks now, nor impost exactions from the tyrant Governor of +New Mexico, Don Manuel Armijo! + +A war has swept the land; a new flag floats over it. Seen streaming +above the towers of Albuquerque, it promises security to all. For it is +the banner of the "Stars and Stripes!" + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lone Ranche, by Captain Mayne Reid + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONE RANCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 21240.txt or 21240.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/2/4/21240/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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