Captured by the Navajos Part 19

"Are you hurt?"

"A slight scratch on the arm near the shoulder, and my horse is hurt."

An examination of Hudson's arm proved that the scratch was not serious, but I thought it best to exchange his horse for one belonging to a soldier. We then went on, Frank and I walking in advance of the ambulance mules.

"There's something down there in the road by Ferrier's grave, sir,"

said Corporal Duffey. "Looks like a dead man."

"Is that where Ferrier was killed?" I asked.

"Yes, sir; I was in command of the detail that came here to look him up. He had built a little stone fort on that knoll up yonder, and kept the redskins off three days. He kept a diary, you remember, which we found. He killed six of them, and might as many more, but he couldn't live without sleep or food, and the rascals got him. They scattered the mail in shreds for miles about here."

"Who was Ferrier?" Frank asked.

"He was a discharged California volunteer, who rode the express before Mr. Hudson."

"Do you think Mr. Hudson knew his predecessor had been killed?"

"Yes; the incident was much talked of at the time."

We were nearing the object in the road. Suddenly the mules caught sight of it, backed, and crushed the ten-gallon keg under the axle against a bowlder--a serious mishap, as our after experience will show. Walking on, we came to the mutilated bodies of two men, several yards apart, whom we had no difficulty in recognizing to be the tradesmen Bell and Sage. With axe, bayonets, and tin cups we dug a shallow grave beside Ferrier's. We placed the bodies side by side, and heaped a pyramid of stones above them.

The courier again bade us good-bye, and we went on. The rest of the ride through the mountain-pa.s.s was accomplished without adventure, and evening found us encamped at Willow Springs. The boys shot a few quail here, of the variety known as the California quail, distinguished by an elegant plume of six feathers on the top of its head. Clary broiled them for breakfast.

The road on the following day was so rough that for much of the way we were unable to move faster than a walk--the slow walk of draught animals. When near a place called Soldiers' Holes, on account of some rifle-pits sunk there, the corporal called my attention to a pool of blood in the road.

A close examination led us to believe that two men had fallen, that one had been wounded, and that a second party had come and taken the wounded man away. The locality was well adapted for a surprise. On the left was a growth of dense shrubbery extending from the road to the foot of the mountain-range. On the opposite side was an open plain.

We were moving on again, when Frank remarked:

"There seems to have been a big gathering of Apaches along this road."

"Yes; a war-party bent on mischief. They have struck at two points, and I fear a third--Date Creek--may have been attacked by this time.

That is where we are to pa.s.s the night." Then turning to Corporal Duffey, I continued: "The road from here to the creek is soft and loamy, and we are not likely to make much noise; caution the men to be quiet and not show themselves outside the track. If the Indians are at the ranch it will be best for us to appear there unexpectedly."

"Do Indians never stand up like white men, and fight?" asked the younger boy.

"Frequently, but their system is different from ours; however, our latest military tactics appear to be modelled on theirs."

Although this section of our journey was but twenty-five miles long, our rate of progress had been so slow that the day was nearly closed when we came in sight of the lines of cottonwoods that bordered Date Creek. We turned at last sharply to the left, and began a descent through a narrow ravine towards the creek. We were nearing its widening mouth when a half-dozen sharp reports of fire-arms broke upon our ears. A halt was ordered and the men directed to prevent the animals from betraying our presence by whinnying or braying. Telling Sergeant Henry to remain behind and keep Vic with him, I went in advance with Sergeant Frank.

"What do you think is going on?" asked my companion, as several more reports rang out.

"What I feared; the Apaches are attacking the men who went out to bring in the dead and wounded men at Soldiers' Holes."

"And if Mr. Hudson was not the wounded man there, I suppose he is sure to be in this sc.r.a.pe. Why not rush in with the escort and frighten them away?"

"They may be too many for us," I answered, "and it will be prudent to learn the situation at the ranch before we go nearer. I want to join the white men without the Indians' knowledge, if possible."

"If Mr. Hudson is not dead, he must know we are here."

"He may be there, and the men may know we are on the road, but it certainly does not look like it."

"Can't Vic be sent with a message?"

"No; she will not take a message to a stranger."

We had now reached a point from which we could see a log cabin, a stable, and an open shed or tool-house. On the side of the buildings towards us, as if screening themselves from an enemy in the opposite direction, were a few men.

"If you would like me to, sir, I can crawl to the house without being seen," said Frank. "That cart, wagon, oven, and stack will screen me."

"Yes, you can do it easily. Tell Mr. Hopkins that we are here--seventeen, counting you two boys--and to make no demonstration when we close up. I will explain a plan to him which, I think, will enable us to teach the Apaches a lesson. If you find Mr. Hudson there, tell him to show himself at a window or door."

XIII

THE BOY SERGEANTS DO GOOD SERVICE

Frank dropped flat upon the earth and worked his way to the cabin without being seen. Instantly I received a signal from Mr. Hopkins through a back window, and a moment later Mr. Hudson looked out of a back door and raised his hat. I was glad to see that his college career was still a possibility.

Hurrying back to the ambulance, I caused the animals to be grouped in charge of the driver and two soldiers, and with the rest of the detail moved in the direction of the ranch buildings.

It had become so dark that we might possibly have pa.s.sed over the open s.p.a.ce without being seen, but, for fear of accidents, we covered it, as Frank had done, on all fours. The first persons I met when I rose to a vertical position were Hudson and Frank, who took me to Mr.

Hopkins. The ranchman greeted me with the a.s.surance that the arrival of my party was a G.o.dsend, and had probably saved their scalps.

I learned that the men at Date Creek, including the mail-carrier, numbered seven; that three were in the stable and four in the house.

These buildings were the same distance from the stream, and fifty feet apart. The bank of the creek was perpendicular for a mile either way, standing fully twelve feet above the surface of the water; but there was a notch with a sloping descent, midway between the buildings, down which the live-stock was driven to water. This slope offered the only practicable point of attack, unless the Indians chose to move by one of our flanks over a long level.

Mr. Hopkins said he had crept out to the shrubbery on the edge of the precipitous river-bank, to the left of the slope, just before my arrival, and had seen on the opposite sh.o.r.e a small party of men moving through the willow branches towards our left. He believed it was a flanking-party, intending to make a feint from that direction and enable the main body to charge through the notch in the bank.

Believing the repelling force to be but seven, the Indians were quite sure of success.

I was convinced that Mr. Hopkins's inferences were correct; but in order that no mistake should be made, I sent two veterans in frontier service, Privates Clary and Hoey, to reconnoitre both flanks. They were gone half an hour, and returned with the information that no demonstration was being made towards our right, but that a dozen or more men had gathered on the opposite sh.o.r.e, at a point where they could cross and turn our left flank.

Preparations to meet this movement were begun at once. Sergeant Frank was sent to the ambulance with orders for the men in charge to bring in the animals, two at a time, and fasten them in the rear of the stable and stack. This was easily accomplished in the darkness. The ambulance was left in charge of Vic.

While this was going on, and I was overlooking the construction of rifle-shelters on the flanks, Sergeant Henry approached and asked if he could not be of some use. Something in the tone of the boy's voice showed me he felt he had been neglected, while his brother had been kept busy.

"What would you like to do?" I asked.

"Does a soldier choose his duty, sir?" was the reply, uttered with some dignity.

"Not usually, sergeant, it is true. I have a very important thing for you to do--something for which I was intending to look you up. Go and find Private Clary, and tell him to help you carry several armfuls of hay from the stack to the right of the slope. Make a heap, so that when it is lighted it will illuminate the approach from the creek. Ask Mr. Hopkins if he has any kerosene or other inflammable stuff to sprinkle on the hay and make it flash up quickly and burn brilliantly.

Then throw up a shelter in which you can lie and be ready to light the hay when signalled."

"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll attend to everything."