The Lost Mountain Part 6

"But if we surrender, might they not be merciful?"

"Merciful! surrender to the Rattlesnake! That would be as putting ourselves in the power of the reptile he takes his name from. You forget Gil Perez and his ma.s.sacre."

"No, indeed. But was it Coyoteros he ma.s.sacred?"

"Coyoteros; and of this very band. El Cascabel's not like to have forgotten that; and will now make us innocent people pay for it. _Ay de mi_!"

With this final exclamation, uttered in a tone of deep despondence, the Mexican relapses into silence. But only for a few seconds longer, to look through the telescope. He has seen enough to know all which can be known, and too truly conjectures what is likely to ensue.

The party of Indians, led by El Cascabel, is again moving onward, and a sweep of the gla.s.s around to the north-west shows the other party making to turn the mountain on its western side. The _gambusino_ can count them now; sees that they number over two hundred, enough to put all hope of a successful encounter with them out of the question. As for retreat, it is too late for that. Surrounded are the luckless miners, or soon will be; besieged on the summit of a mountain as within the walls of a fortress, and as far removed from any chance of succour as castaways on a desert isle in mid-ocean.

CHAPTER TEN.

AN ENFILADING LINE.

The "stone artillery" has been got together; a huge pile of it, forming at the same time protecting parapet and battery of guns; the men have desisted from their work, and having nothing more to do, at least for a time, stand listening for the signals. They know that such have been arranged, without having been told their exact bearing.

But they are soon to learn it; almost instantly after hearing a shot, and then quick succeeding it another, as the discharges from a double-barrelled gun.

"The Indians coming on, and near!" says Don Estevan, interpreting to those around. "We may look to see them soon yonder."

He nods towards the abandoned camp, a portion of which is visible from the head of the gorge.

This causes a turning of all eyes in its direction, and on the _llano_ beyond. But scarce have they commenced scanning it when two other shots, less loud but with a like interval between, reach their ears, proceeding from the same quarter.

"The pistols--signals three and four!" mechanically p.r.o.nounces the ex-officer of dragoons, his sallow features showing further clouded.

"There's no more to listen for now," he adds. "Don Pedro was right.

Apaches they must be, and on a marauding expedition--likely for the towns of the Horcasitas, and, unluckily, we in their way. Ah, _amigos_!

it's an ill look-out for us; could not well be worse."

But worse it is, as they are yet to learn. And soon do learn from the lips of the _gambusino_, who, returning in breathless haste, cries out ere he is up to them,

"_Los Coyoteros_! The band of El Cascabel!"

Words of terrible portent, needing no explanation, for they recall to the minds of all present that sanguinary incident already alluded to.

The dastardly deed of Captain Perez and his ruffianly soldiery is likely to be retaliated on men, not only themselves guiltless, but every one of whom has condemned it! For how can they expect mercy from the friends and relatives of his murdered victims? How hope for any distinction or exception in their favour? They cannot, and do not, knowing that ever since that inhuman ma.s.sacre the Apaches have treated every paleface as a foe, the Coyoteros killing all prisoners that fall into their hands, after torturing them.

"You think it's the band of Cascabel?"

It is Don Estevan who questions in rejoinder to the _gambusino's_ brief but expressive report.

"Think! I'm sure of it, your worship. Through this good gla.s.s of yours I recognised that savage himself, knowing him too well. It enabled me to make out his _totem_, the pretty device on his breast, of which this on mine's but a poor copy. _Mira_!"

While speaking, he unb.u.t.tons his shirt-front and draws the plaits apart, as a screen from some precious picture, exposing to the view of all what he had already shown to Henry Tresillian. As most of them remember having heard of the sepulchral symbol borne by the Coyotero chief, with that other more appropriate to his name, they now know the sort of enemy that is approaching, and what they have to expect. No more among them is there hope of either friendship or mercy. On one side, the stronger, it will be attack hostile and vengeful; on the other, and weaker-- theirs, alas!--it must be resistance and defence even unto death.

Though fully convinced of this, the miners remain calm, with that confidence due to danger seeming still distant. They know they are safe for the time, una.s.sailable, the _gambusino_ having given them a.s.surance of it. But they now see it for themselves, and any apprehensions they have are less for the present than the future. Sure are they that a siege is before them, how long they cannot guess, nor in which way it will terminate. And there may be chances of relief or escape they have not thought of. Hope is hard to kill, and the least hopeful of them has not yet yielded to despair. Time enough for that when starvation stares them in the face, for hunger--famine--is the foe they have most to fear.

But they think not of things so far ahead. They must first see the enemy of which their guide has given such awe-inspiring account; and, with glances sent abroad and over that portion of the plain visible to them, they await his appearance on it.

Nearly another hour elapses without any enemy seen. The horses and mules have got over their late excitement, and are again tranquilly depasturing, some having waded into the lake to cool their hoofs, still hot after their long _jornada_. But none wander away from the proximity of the camp; the only animals out on the plain being p.r.o.ng-horn antelopes, a herd of which, on their way to the water too, has been deterred approaching it by the presence of huge monsters unknown to them--the wagons. But these have not hindered the approach of the black-winged birds; instead, attracted them, and a large flock is now around the abandoned camp, some wheeling above, others at rest on the ground or perched upon the rock-boulders which bestrew it. A crowd, collected on the spot where the ox had been butchered for breakfast, contest possession of its offal.

All of a sudden, and simultaneously, a movement is perceptible among the animals, birds as quadrupeds, the wild as the tame. The p.r.o.ng-horns with a snort raise their heads aloft as if they saw or scented some new danger, then lope off at lightning speed. The vultures take wing, but only rise a little way into the air, to soar round in circles; while the horses, mules, and horned cattle, as if seized by a frenzy of madness, rush excitedly about, wildly neighing and bellowing, at each instant threatening to break away in stampede.

"They smell redskin," knowingly observes the _gambusino_, who is among the rest watching their movements. "Yes; and we'll soon see the ugly thing itself. _Chingara_! yonder it is."

He has no need to point out either the thing or the place. The eyes of all are now on it; the head of a dusky cohort just appearing round the eastern projection of the Cerro, becoming elongated as file after file unfolds itself. They are still afar off--at least a league--nor is their line of march directed towards the mountain, but westward, as though they intended turning it.

No such manoeuvre is meant, however, as the miners, forewarned by their guide, are already aware. His words are made good by their seeing soon after another dark line developing itself on the _llano_, at a like distance off, but coming from the opposite direction.

"The party that went west about," says the _gambusino_, half in soliloquy; "cunning in them to make a complete surround of us. I suppose they thought we were but hors.e.m.e.n, and might get away from them.

If they'd seen our wagons, it would have saved them some trouble.

Well, they see everything now."

No one makes rejoinder, all intently gazing at the two marching bands, now with eyes on one, then quickly transferred to the other. The portion of the plain visible is s.e.xtant-shaped--the view on either side cut off by the flanking ridges of the ravine--and from each side the string of savage hors.e.m.e.n is continuously lengthening out. Not rapidly, but in slow leisurely crawl, as if confident they had already secured the enfiladement of the camp. With a thicker concentration near the head of each, and a metallic sparkle all along their line--the sheen of their armour under the rays of the meridian sun--they appear as two huge serpents of antediluvian age, deliberately drawing towards one another either for friendship or combat.

In due time their front files come together, near the central part of the s.e.xtant; though the rear ones are still invisible;--how many of these no one knows, save approximately. Enough, however, are already in sight to make a formidable array, and put all thought of conflict with them out of the question. The miners but congratulate themselves on their fortune in finding that secure place of retreat, which will enable them to shun it. Grateful are they to their guide for making it known-- and they have reason. If within their late camp instead of where they now are, the hours of their life would be numbered--perhaps to count only minutes. At the best they could but save bare life for a time, but nothing to comfort or sustain it.

All this they have come to comprehend thoroughly as they continue to watch the movements of the Coyoteros, and see the cordon these have drawn around them. But for some minutes there is no movement at all, the bands after uniting having come to a halt, the files making quarter-wheel, so as to face the Cerro--all done as by trained cavalry on a parade-ground! And for a while they stay halted, the change of front giving their alignment a thinner look. But at the central point is a thicker clump, without military formation, on which Don Estevan directs his telescope. To see half a dozen of the mounted savages face to face with one another, earnestly, excitedly gesticulating. After a look through it, he tenders the gla.s.s to the _gambusino_, who may better understand what they are about.

"El Cascabel and his sub-chiefs in consultation," p.r.o.nounces the latter, soon as sighting them. "It's plain they're puzzled by seeing wagons where never were such before. Like as not they think we're _soldados_, and that makes them cautious. But they'll soon know different. _Por Dios_! they know it now. They're coming on!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A CAMP WITHOUT OCCUPANTS.

The _gambusino_ has guessed everything aright, if words spoken in the confidence of knowledge can be called guesses. True they prove, to the spirit as the letter; for it is just that unaccustomed spectacle of wheeled vehicles with their white canvas covers that caused the Indians to keep their deploying line so far aloof, and bring it to a halt for deliberation. Notwithstanding their being masters of all that desert country, lords of the _llanos_, they themselves do not always traverse it without difficulties to encounter and dangers to dread. The wagons proclaim the camp occupied by white men; and knowing these to be ordinary travellers, miners on the move, or _commerciantes_ on a trading expedition to the frontier towns, the Coyoteros would little regard them--certainly not enough to have made that long _detour_ with so much delay in approaching them. But it may be a _military_ encampment; and if so, will need to be dealt with differently--hence their unwonted caution.

Soon as the two bands became conjoined, El Cascabel had summoned his sub-chiefs around him, to take their opinions upon this point. For among Indians the head chief is not armed with despotic authority, but must submit his intended course of action to the approval of his following, even when on the _maraud_. And as the _gambusino_ rightly conjectured, this it was which occupied them at that temporary halt.

A question without difficulty, and soon decided. In the negative as regarded the camp being occupied by soldiers. Were it so, men in uniform would be observable around it; whereas none such are seen. Nor human form of any kind; only animals--horses, and mules, with horned cattle commingled--all careering madly about as if masterless, or escaped from their masters' control.

This might seem an odd circ.u.mstance, yet it does not to the savages.

From experience they know that all animals belonging to the palefaces become affrighted at their own proximity--often to break from their fastenings, however secure. Such a scare is likely what they see now.

All the more does it a.s.sure them they will not have to deal with _soldados_. These would have their horses under better discipline, would indeed by this time be on their backs, at least some of them.

Satisfied of its being a camp of civilians, at a signal sent along their line the red hors.e.m.e.n make a move forward, their files becoming thicker as the cordon contracts into nearer and narrower curve. Still they advance slowly, not through fear or want of confidence, but because they feel sure their enfiladement is complete, and their victims enclosed.

But another idea rules their cautious approach. A splendid prize is before them in that large _ca Callada_, and to ride hurriedly in might lead to the loose animals breaking through their ranks, and scattering off over the plain, with after difficulty of capturing them. For just then they might have enough to do with their owners. Besides, there can be no surprise. The occupants of the camp, whoever they be, must have seen them long since, and are watching them now, though not one of themselves can be seen. Nothing so strange in this; they are inside the wagon enclosure, screened by the ridge of _alparejas_ that form a sort of breastwork around it. And the ruck of frightened animals rushing to and fro between further prevents view of them. The more reason for deliberate approach, this att.i.tude of the white men telling of an intention to stand upon the defence.

Becoming convinced of this, the Indians give up thought of immediate attack. They will wait for the night's darkness to give them a better opportunity; and when at such a distance as they deem beyond longest gun range, they again come to a halt.

They would dismount, holding their horses in readiness; and some are already on the ground. But before all alight, a word is sent along their circular line, ordering them up again. Something has transpired to give cause for a change of purpose.

Soon they know what, seeing that the camp animals have retreated back beyond the wagons up into an embayment of the cliff, where they stand in a clump, cowering and still showing scare, but at rest. It is not that, however, which has made the Coyoteros re-mount, but because their view of the camp now being clear they still cannot see human beings in or around it. With eyes bent in keenest quest between the corralled wagons, through the spokes of their wheels, all along the periphery of pack-saddles, nothing in the shape of human form or face can they make out. Yet the sun is in their favour, and if such was there they could not fail seeing it. Puzzled are the savages now, and for the first time--since it is the first time for them to have such an experience.