The Quest of the Four Part 46

They also took into account another consideration. It had been many months since the battle of Buena Vista. Much had happened since then, and the summer was waning. With winter approaching, it was more than likely that the Comanches would either hug the warm plains or return toward them. It was an additional reason why warriors might come to The Silver Cup. Such coming, of course, brought danger, but the likelihood of success increased with the danger.

They found a sheltered place on the north side of the lake, but about forty yards distant. It was a kind of rocky alcove, sloping down toward the water, with great trees growing very thickly on every side. They put their supplies in here and made beds of dry leaves. Just above them was a fine open s.p.a.ce richly gra.s.sed, into which they turned the horses.

"Those four-footed friends of ours will be our sentinels to-night," said Bill Breakstone. "I don't think any creeping Comanche could pa.s.s them without an alarm being raised, and, as we all need rest, we'll leave the watching to them and take the chances."

They did not light any fire, but ate their supper cold, and quickly betook themselves to The Dip, as they called this shelter. There, wrapped in their blankets, they lay down on the soft beds of leaves, and deemed themselves fortunate. Phil could just see between two great tree-trunks a narrow strip of The Silver Cup, which flashing in the moonlight with a luminous glow, looked like a wonderful gem. The water rippled and moved softly. Beyond was the fringe of trees, and beyond that the vast blue sky with a host of friendly stars. Then Phil fell into the sleep of the just, and so did all his comrades. The only one of them who awoke in the night was Hans Arenberg. He looked at his friends, saw they were sleeping so soundly that they did not move, and he arose very gently. Then he stepped out of The Dip and walked down to the edge of The Silver Cup. There he stood looking at the waters which still shifted and moved like molten metal under the wind.

There was a spell upon Hans Arenberg that night. The soul of the old Teuton was alive within him, of the Teuton who lived in the great forests of Germany far back of the Christian era. It was his inheritance, like that of the Americans who, also, grew up in the shadow of the vast wilderness. The forest and lake were alive to him with the spirits of his primitive ancestors, but they were good spirits. They whispered in chorus that he, too, would succeed, and he began to whistle softly a quaint melody, some old German folk song that he had whistled to his boy. His mood grew upon him. All things were mystic. The seen were the unseen, and the things around him had no place. Even the lake vanished as he softly whistled the little melody, and it seemed to him after awhile that an answer to it came out of the forest, the same melody whistled more softly yet, and from childish lips. Arenberg knew that he was dreaming awake, but from that moment he never doubted.

He came from the spell, slipped back into The Dip, and was the first next morning to awake. But he built the fire and did all the cooking, and he was uncommonly cheerful, whistling at times a peculiar but beautiful melody that none of them had ever heard before.

"Arenberg must have had a fine dream last night," said John Bedford to Phil.

"Looks so," replied Phil, "but I'm not going to ask him about it."

Arenberg and John remained and watched at the lake that day, devoting themselves at the same time, to the improvement of their camp, by means of a roof of bark and poles at the upper edge of The Dip, which would protect them from the infrequent rains. Phil and Bill Breakstone mounted the best of the horses and made a great scout northward. They found that the thick woods extended four or five miles. Beyond that the timber became scattering, and they also saw patches of open country with the succulent buffalo gra.s.s. Farther on lay the great mountains, clearly visible now.

"That's our water supply," said Bill, pointing to the blue range. "As we guessed, The Silver Cup is certainly fed from them, and I think that we've seen enough for the present. We've established the fact that we've got about the best base to be found in this country, and these woods will surely contain game."

Their luck continued high, for within fifteen minutes they flushed a black-tailed deer, which Phil, from his horse's back, brought down with a fine running shot. It was a fat doe, and, skinning and cleaning it there, they put it upon one of the horses and carried it back to camp.

They did not arrive until nearly sundown, and their spoils made them doubly welcome to their comrades.

"You have done good work," said Hans Arenberg, "and this deer is very welcome. There are more where it came from, and to-morrow I think, also, that I will shoot some of the foolish ducks that are swimming around on the lake."

Arenberg was as good as his word; the next day they added a half dozen fine ducks to their larder. On the following day Arenberg and John rode northward, making the great scout. They had resolved to do this day by day, two to ride for enemies, and two to watch and work at the camp until something happened. Thus nearly two weeks pa.s.sed and The Silver Cup remained untouched by any human beings save themselves. It was so peaceful that apparently it would remain forever so. Nor did they find anything in the forest except game, although they threshed up the country at least thirty miles to the north. Still they clung to their camp, knowing that they must have patience.

The hot days pa.s.sed fast, and the coolness of autumn came upon them.

One night it rained heavily, but the thatched roof did its duty, and they did not surfer. The waters of the lake grew colder, but they rarely missed their daily swim. Breakstone thought it likely that it was already snowing on the distant mountains.

They continued to beat up the country in circles that widened steadily, still without any sign of Comanches or any other Indian tribe, but Arenberg was resolute in his desire to stay, and the others thought it right to defer to him in the matter that concerned him most. The German held to the theory that sooner or later Comanches would pa.s.s that way, since water, wood, and game, the three requisites of savage life, were found there.

Hence they made ready for winter. They had two axes in their baggage, and they built a strong shack in The Dip, one quite sufficient to protect them from the winter storms which were likely to occur here, as they were at a great elevation above the sea. They made rude fish traps, with which they caught excellent fish in the lake, and they could increase the supply indefinitely. The black-tailed deer were numerous in the forest. They also found wild turkeys, and they shot two buffaloes on the plains below. The horses grazed in a sheltered little valley, and they judged that gra.s.s could be found there all through the winter.

There would be no trouble about living. Beyond a doubt, they could find ample supplies of food, and so long a time pa.s.sed without the appearance of an enemy that they began to feel quite safe at their home in The Dip and in the region about it. As they sat there late one afternoon and watched the twilight come over The Silver Cup, Hans Arenberg spoke the thoughts that had been heavy in his mind that day.

"See what a misty twilight it iss," he said. "It iss too cold for rain, and so I think it means snow. The Comanches will come with the snow.

While the weather was warm, and they could sleep on the open plain, they rode there, hunting the buffalo. Now the western bands will seek shelter and they will come here."

He walked from the hut and stood looking down at the lake, the surface of which had turned from silver to gray. The three followed him with a gaze which was of blended curiosity and sympathy.

"I more than half believe him," said Breakstone in a whisper to the others.

"It seems to me that sometimes he talks like a prophet," said John Bedford.

"He is a prophet sometimes," said Bill Breakstone, "or at least he's got second sight. Now he's looking at that lake, but he doesn't see it at all. He sees the Comanches, riding, riding, always riding toward this place, and maybe they have with them some one for whom he is looking.

Maybe, and maybe not, but we'll see, don't you forget that, Phil, you and John, and somehow I'm thinking that he sees true."

It rapidly grew colder, and they were glad enough, when they came back from hunting and scouting, to seek the shelter of the thatched hut in The Dip. There, while the coals glowed on the stone hearth that they had made, and the smoke pa.s.sed out through the vent in the wall, they speculated much on what was pa.s.sing far to the southward of them. The great battle at the mouth of the Pa.s.s of Angostura was still so vivid in the minds of Phil, Breakstone, and Arenberg that they did not have to shut their eyes to see it again, and John often dreamed that he was still in the Castle of Montevideo, sitting by that deep loophole, looking out upon his mountain landscape.

"I guess they're closing in on the City of Mexico," said Bill Breakstone. "It's in a rough and mountainous country, easy to defend, but after the battle of Buena Vista I don't believe anything in Mexico can defeat our soldiers, no matter what the odds."

"And Middleton is with them," said Phil. "I'd like to see the Captain again. He was a fine man."

"Maybe we will," said Breakstone. "The West is a mighty big place, but there are not many white men in it, and when you shuffle them around some you are likely to meet them more than once."

The next morning The Silver Cup had a cover, a beautiful clear cover of ice an eighth of an inch thick. The following morning the cover was a little thicker, and it thickened perceptibly every succeeding morning, until it would bear the weight of Phil or John. The trees were heavy with frost, and the wind sometimes blew so sharply from the mountain that they made rude ear-m.u.f.fs of deerskin and helped out their clothing as skillfully as possible with skins and furs.

Then the snow came. Looking northward, they saw a whitish mist over the forest. The mist gradually turned to dark blue clouds hanging very low.

The snow fell, at first, in slow, solemn flakes, and then swiftly. They filled the air, all the forest was hidden, and nothing marked the presence of The Silver Cup but the level expanse of the snow. It fell to the depth of six or seven inches, then the skies cleared away, became crystal blue, and the cold increased, promising no more snow for the present, but a long continuance of that which lay on the ground. They visited the horses the next morning and found them well protected in their valley. Large s.p.a.ces there were but thinly covered with the snow, and the horses could easily get at the gra.s.s. a.s.sured on this point, John and Breakstone returned to The Dip, while Phil and Arenberg, mounting the strongest two horses, rode northward.

CHAPTER XXI

THE NOTE OF A MELODY

Phil and Arenberg were undertaking this journey because they wished to make one of their usual thorough scouts. It merely happened to be their day, as John and Breakstone had gone on the day preceding. They were well wrapped up, with their ear-m.u.f.fs on and with big moccasins that they had made to go over their shoes. The snow was very light and dry, and offered little obstacle to the horses, which were fat and strong with good feeding.

"We certainly leave a fine trail, Hans," said Phil, looking back at the impressions made by their horse's hoofs.

"It iss so," said Arenberg, "but since we hunt people it iss not our object to hide ourselves. Do you notice how beautiful iss the forest, Herr Philip? All the trees are white with the snow. It iss a great tracery, silver sometimes and gold sometimes as the sun falls, and it extends farther than we can see. It must often have been such as this in the great Teutonic forest where my ancestors dwelled thousands of years ago. Here in these woods I have this feeling at times, as if the centuries were rolled back, and last night I dreamed a strange dream."

"What was the dream?"

"I don't know. That was the strange part of it. I awoke and I knew that I had dreamed a strange dream which was not unpleasant, but, try as hard as I would, I could not remember anything about it. What do you think that portends, Herr Philip?"

"I do not know. Perhaps when we want a thing so much and think about it so much the imagination, while we are asleep and the will is dead, forms a picture of it that remains in our possession when we awake. But it's just surmise. I don't know anything about it."

"Nor do I," said Arenberg, "but sometimes I believe. Now I suggest that we ride toward the northwest. I believe that good hunting grounds are in that direction beyond this forest, and perhaps the Comanches may have been on the plain there, and may now be seeking shelter in this wilderness."

"It's as good a theory as any," said Phil, "and we'll try it."

They rode for several hours toward the northwest, pa.s.sing from the region of heavy forest into that of the scrub timber, and again into heavy forest as they approached the slopes of the higher mountains.

They were now at least twenty miles from The Silver Cup, and it was past midday. They had brought jerked venison with them, and they ate their noon meal on horseback. But Phil wanted water, and he saw a clear white line leading among the trees, which he thought might indicate a brook flowing under the ice and snow. He dismounted, sc.r.a.ped away the snow and found that he was right. He broke the ice, took a good drink, and then noticed a trail on the far side of the brook. It was unmistakably that of a single horse, and he called excitedly to Arenberg.

"Look, Hans," he said. "Doesn't this show that an Indian pony has pa.s.sed here?"

Arenberg came at once, and when he looked down at the trail his eyes sparkled with a kind of exultant joy. But he showed no excitement otherwise.

"It iss the trail of a single Indian pony," he said. "We will follow it.

It iss not likely that a lone warrior rides in this region. He goes to join others."

Phil looked closely at Arenberg. He was quite sure that his comrade considered this a sign, the first sign that had come in the long, long search. He knew how the stout heart must be throbbing within the German's powerful chest.

"Lead on, Hans," he said. "I think you're right."

The two followed the trail at a good walk. It lay before them in the snow as plain as a railroad track. There was but little undergrowth here, and they saw far among the stems of the trees. They were quite sure that danger lay before them, since they might ride at any moment into an ambush, but they kept on without hesitation, although they watched well with two pairs of unusually keen eyes. In this manner they rode about five miles, and then Arenberg's eyes began to scintillate again. The pony's trail was merged into that of three or four more coming from the north.