The Lost Mountain Part 7

For the moment it even mystifies them, and thoughts of the supernatural come creeping into their minds. They know Nauchampa-tepetl to be a place of weird repute, so figuring in many a record and legend of their race. And now to see a camp there, a camp of the palefaces, with every appointment appertaining, wheeled vehicles drawn up in _corral_ with a grand tent inside--for the marquee, still standing, is conspicuous through a break between the wagons--with all the animals that should be there, and yet no man, no one seeming to own or control them, that is certainly strange, to the point of astonishment--even awe!

And for a time it so affects the savage warriors, their chief not excepted. But only for a time. Notwithstanding his ghostly coat-of-arms, El Cascabel is but little the slave of superst.i.tion; and, after a moment's reflection, feels satisfied there are palefaces in the camp, though invisible to the view of him and his. In that, as the reader knows, he is wrong; but right in the way he takes to test it.

It may seem the veriest _grotesquerie_ here to introduce that venerated weapon, known as the "Queen Anne musket," yet the truthfulness of this record requires its introduction.

For strange as it may appear, this historical piece, with all its imperfections, has found its way to every corner of the world; even into the hands of the Apache Indians. How they became possessed of it needs but a word of explanation, which is, that they had it--took it--from their hereditary enemies, the Mexicans--from the _infanterio_ of that nation, armed with the old condemned "Queen Anne's" of London Tower celebrity.

Leaving this necessary digression, and returning to the Coyoteros--more especially to their chief, we hear him call out to those of his followers who carry the ancient firelock, giving them orders to advance some paces and send shots into the white man's camp.

Dismounting, they do so, aiming at the wagons and tent inside, so correctly that their big bullets, an ounce in weight, are seen to hit the mark. But without effect following, any more than if their shots were meant for the _facade_ of cliff beyond, whose rocks echo back the reports of the antiquated pieces, as if in hilarious mockery.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE CHASE OF CRUSADER.

By El Cascabel's orders, repeatedly are the big muskets re-loaded and fired into the _corral_, till every wagon has had a bullet through it, and the tent is pierced in several places. But all with the same effect, the shots eliciting no other response than their own echoes.

Now the Indians know for sure that the camp is unoccupied; and, but for their foreknowledge of the topography of the place, would be mystified indeed. But most of them have themselves been on the summit of Nauchampa-tepetl, and their eyes turn interrogatively towards it.

Thither the white men must have retreated, leaving everything below.

They see nothing, however; not as much as a face. For Don Estevan has directed those by the head of the gorge to keep well under cover, in hopes of tempting the savages to an ascent in the face of his formidable battery.

But the Coyotero chief is too astute for that, knowing, moreover, that there is no chance for the despised enemy to escape him. Wrathful he is withal, at having been in a way outwitted, angry at himself for having made the surround so slowly. It will cost him a siege, he knows not how long, interfering with the expedition to the Horcasitas, perhaps to its abandonment. But there is some compensation in the plunder so unexpectedly come upon, and from what he sees it should be an ample one.

Six large wagons with a grand _tienda--litera_ also--visible, to say nothing of the numerous animals, a travelling party so well-appointed should also have commodities in correspondence, promising a rich prize.

The camp is good as captured already; but instead of hastening on to take possession, he proceeds slowly and systematically as ever; for nothing can be gained by speed now, and some thing may be lost--the loose animals. They are still crowded up in the embayment between the cliffs, but with heads aloft and ears apeak, neighing, snorting, and restless, as if about to make a break.

"Leave aside arms, all--guns, and spears!" commands the chief. "Get ready the _riatas_!"

All together drop down from their horses, those who carry spears sticking them upright in the ground, those with firelocks laying them along it. Any _impedimenta_ of baggage and accoutrements are also pulled off and flung beside. Then they vault back upon their animals, each with but his trail-rope carried in coil over the left arm, to be used as a _lazo_.

Thus disenc.u.mbered and equipped, they at length advance, not for the camp, but the _caballada_; but ere they can close up the mouth of the cove the white men's animals become more affrighted than ever, and make the burst they had been threatening--horses, mules, and oxen all together. With a noise of thunder, the ground echoes the tread of their hundreds of hooves, as in frenzied madness they rush out for the open plain. Little chance would there be of their reaching it but that the Indian horses catch the stampede, too, many of them becoming unmanageable. The enfilading line is broken, and through its riven ranks the camp animals sweep as a hurricane. One is in the lead--a large horse, coal-black, on whom many an Indian had set eye, with _lazo_ ready for his capture. Crusader it is, his neigh heard above all others, as, with head on high, mane tossed, and tail streaming afar, he dashes at the severed line; again uttered, as it were exultingly, when, having cleared it, he sees no enemy before him. Half a dozen nooses are flung at and after him, all ill-directed; all fall short, and slide from his glistening flanks, while as many disappointed cries follow him in chorus.

All is scamper and confusion now; the surround has failed, the stampede taken place, and the stampeded animals, such as succeeded in getting off--for not all went clear--can only be captured after a chase. But the Indian horses quickly get over their scare, and are laid on the pursuit till a stream of them stretches out on the _llano_. Fresher and in better condition than the camp animals, these are soon overtaken and noosed, now one, now another, till at length only a single horse is seen beyond the pursuing line.

Followed still, but so far beyond it, at each bound widening the distance, that a pair of eyes watching the chase, at first apprehensively, now sparkle with delight. For they are the eyes of his own master, Henry Tresillian, standing on the _mesa's_ summit behind a screening tree.

Half a score of the savages still continue the pursuit, among them their chief himself. For he would give much to be the owner of that matchless steed, and now strains his own to the utmost. All in vain. Crusader forges farther and farther away, till he is but a speck upon the plain.

Then the baffled pursuers, one after another, give up discouraged, at length El Cascabel also coming to a stop, and turning to ride back with an air of angry disappointment.

The English youth, yielding to a thrill of proud exultation, waves his cap in the air, giving utterance to a triumphant "Hurrah!"

"I'm so glad he's got away from them," he says, to Vicente, by his side; "wherever he may go or whatever become of him. My n.o.ble Crusader! But wasn't it clever? Wasn't it grand?"

"Wonderful!" responds the _gambusino_, alike moved to admiration. "I never saw horse behave so in all my born life. _Santissima_! he must be a witch, if not the _demonio_ himself."

The Indians, leading back the captured animals, and recovering their arms, no longer delay entering the camp. Which, to their chagrin, they find not only abandoned, but wellnigh despoiled, as if other plunderers had been there before them! That much has been carried off, and of course of the most valuable kind, is evinced by boxes broken open, bales unroped and the contents extracted, with here and there empty s.p.a.ces in the wagons, where evidently something had been stored. There is little left for them save the refuse, or effects of a nature to be of no use to them. What care they for mining tools and machinery?

More than ever are they angry and regretful of their ill-judged delay; but vow deadlier vengeance, when the time comes for it.

Still that may not be soon. The very fashion of retreat shows it to have been made with deliberation, and that the white men intend standing a siege, with the hopes and the wherewithal to hold out ever so long.

And they, the Indians, knowing the danger of breasting that steep in the face of resolute defenders, have no thought of attempting it. But the goods that have been carried up must remain there, and sooner or later fall into their hands.

So consoling themselves, the new occupants of the camp settle down to the siege, after having secured their animals--both their own and those they have just come into possession of. All are put out to gra.s.s, "hoppled" or tethered on trail-ropes. Then the fires, found smouldering, are replenished with fresh fuel, and blaze up brightly as ever, with spits and roasting joints all round them.

This day the Coyoteros dine on beef, instead of their customary diet of _mezcal_ and baked horseflesh. And a plenteous repast they make. Not for a long time have they had such an opportunity of gormandising. In their desert land of Apacheria provisions are scarce--often to starvation-point; and they now feast gluttonously, as if to make up for many a fast.

Nor are they without drinkables, though none brought they along with them. In a corner of one of the wagons is a cask--which on being tapped is found to be filled with _chingarita_--a fiery spirit distilled from the very plant, chief staple of their food--the _mezcal_. The Coyoteros know it well, and though they do not themselves distil, they drink it, and are so fond of it as to wonder why the cask is there, and not also carried up the mountain!

Drawn out, and rolled to the middle of the _corral_, they dance in delight around it, repeatedly quaffing from their calabash cups, with such an accompaniment of noises that the camp, lately occupied by men and women, might seem to have come into the possession of devils.

And so on till night. Then demon-like indeed are the forms seen flitting around its fires, and as much the faces, lit up by the red glare from blazing f.a.gots of _mezquite_ and _pinon_--both resinous trees. Still more the discordant sounds, a chorus of cries and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, in mad wild yelling, as of Bedlam broke loose.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A RETRIBUTIVE SHOT.

It is midnight, and darkness over mountain and plain; pitch darkness, although there is a moon in the sky. But she is not visible, obscured by a bank of thick c.u.mulus clouds, that have rolled up from the Californian Gulf--portent of an approaching rain-storm.

The savages have gone to rest; or, at all events, brought their noisy revelry to an end, and silence reigns everywhere around, save now and then a snort from a miner's horse, or mule, with a stamp of hoof, uneasy in their new companionship; the half howl, half bark of prowling coyote, and the wailing of chuck-will's widow--the nightjar of Sonora--hawking for insects high over the lake. But no sound of human voice is heard, nor through the inky blackness can be seen form of man.

Yet not all are asleep, either above or below. On the plain is a line of sentries, set at distances apart on the outer edge of the triangular s.p.a.ce where the path goes up; and inside this, by the bottom of the gorge itself, two other men, though not on sentinel duty.

All Indians, of course; one of the pair by themselves being El Cascabel, the other a sub-chief, his second in command. They are there on reconnoitring purposes, to discover whether it be possible for the besiegers to make the ascent on a dark night unseen, and so take the besieged by surprise.

Since settling down in camp the Rattlesnake has reflected, and a thought is now in his mind making him uneasy. Not regret for having to forego his raid on the settlements of the Horcasitas. Unlikely that the siege would take up any more time, and the booty alone should be ample compensation. For he has made study of the abandoned camp, found every indication of wealth, and feels sure it late held rich treasures. They would reward him for the time lost in beleaguering. And as to the revenge, a whole company of miners--nigh a hundred at least--with their wives and daughters, grand senoras among them too--death to the men, and captivity to the women--that should satisfy the keenest vengeance.

And perhaps it would his, were he sure of accomplishing it. He was before the sun went down, but is not now. For, since, he has thought of that which had not then occurred to him or to any of his following.

Might not the miners have sent off a courier back to their own country, with a demand for help? If so, it would surely come; in strength sufficient, and soon enough to raise the siege. For the head men of the besieging force now know it will be a prolonged one. The fragments of provisions found in the wagons tell of a good store taken out of them and up. Game is there in abundance to supplement it, and water never-failing--a fortress in every way supplied. Not so strange, then, the Coyotero chief being nervous at the thought of a courier having been dispatched. For one might, without having been seen by him or his. A long distance it was from where they themselves must have been first sighted by those on the mountain.

But for the obscurity, there are those on it who would see himself and his second now. By the head of the gorge above a party of miners keep guard. They have just come on duty, the relief after a spell of sleep.

For Don Estevan, by old experience, knowing there was no clanger of Indian attack in the earlier hours, had entrusted the guard-keeping of these to the more common men. Between midnight and morning is the time to "'ware redskin," and the guard of this period, now commenced, has been confided to a picked party, two of those composing it being Pedro Vicente and his _fidus achates_, Henry Tresillian.

Guard it can scarce be called, being only a small vidette-picket. For there is little fear--scarce a thought--that the Indians will attempt the ascent, at least not so soon, or without gravely reflecting upon it.

"Perhaps never at all," says the _gambusino_, in confabulation with his fellow-watchers. "And why should they? They must be well aware of the chances against them. Besides, having got us as fish in a net, they're not likely to leap into the water themselves, where they know there are _tiburones_ (sharks)."

Vicente has had a spell at pearl-diving in the Gulf, hence his simile drawn from the sea.

"Ay, _tintoreros_--these," he adds, specifying the most dreaded of the squaline tribe, with hand caressingly rested on one of the large stones alongside which he is lying. "I only wish they would try it, the Rattlesnake leading. 'Twould give me just the opportunity I want to pay that artist off for the bit of bad engraving--he did on my breast--by hurling one of these beauties at his head. _Malraya_! I may never have the chance to settle that score--not likely now."

The final words, uttered in a tone of angry disappointed vengeance, are followed by an interval of silence. For the new videttes, having just entered on their duty, deem it wise, before aught else, to make themselves acquainted with how matters are below. They are all in rec.u.mbent att.i.tude, _ventre a terre_, behind the parapet of loose stones. For having witnessed that long-range practice with the "Queen Annes," it occurs to them that a big bullet may at any moment come whizzing up the gorge, and just as well be out of its way. So elevating but their eyes over, they look cautiously down. To see nothing--not even the plain, nor yet the lake; to hear nothing which proceeds from human kind; but they know the savages are on the alert, with sentries aligned below, and for a time continue to listen.

At length, satisfied there is nothing which calls for their vigilance being kept on the strain, Vicente draws out his _cajoncito_ of corn-husk _cigarittos_, lights one, and sets to smoking. His comrades of the watch do likewise; and the English youth, long since initiated into the ways of the country, smokes too, only his weed is a Havannah.