The Scalp Hunters Part 43

"If that Injun has got clar," said Garey, "we've no time to lose in skinnin' them bufflers. Thar's plenty o' his tribe not twenty miles from hyar, I calc'late."

"Look down among the willows there!" cried the voice of the chief; "close down to the water."

There was a pool. It was turbid and trampled around the edges with buffalo tracks. On one side it was deep. Here willows dropped over and hung into the water. Several men pressed into this side, and commenced sounding the bottom with their lances and the b.u.t.ts of their rifles.

Old Rube had come up among the rest, and was drawing the stopper of his powder-horn with his teeth, apparently with the intention of reloading.

His small dark eyes were scintillating every way at once: above, around him, and into the water.

A sudden thought seemed to enter his head. I saw him push back the plug, grasp the Irishman, who was nearest him, by the arm, and mutter, in a low and hurried voice, "Paddy! Barney! gi' us yur gun; quick, man, quick!"

Barney, at this earnest solicitation, immediately surrendered his piece, taking the empty rifle that was thrust into his hand by the trapper.

Rube eagerly grasped the musket, and stood for a moment as if he was about to fire at some object in the pond. Suddenly he jerked his body round, and, poising the gun upward, fired into the thick foliage.

A shrill scream followed; a heavy body came crashing through the branches, and struck the ground at my feet. Warm drops sparkled into my eyes, causing me to wince. It was blood! I was blinded with it; I rubbed my eyes to clear them. I heard men rushing from all parts of the thicket. When I could see again, a naked savage was just disappearing through the leaves.

"Missed him!" cried the trapper. "Away wi' yur sodger gun!" he added, flinging down the musket, and rushing after the savage with his drawn knife.

I followed among the rest. I heard several shots as we scrambled through the brushwood.

When I had got to the outer edge I could see the Indian still on his feet, and running with the speed of an antelope. He did not keep in a direct line, but zigzag, leaping from side to side, in order to baffle the aim of his pursuers, whose rifles were all the time ringing behind him. As yet none of their bullets had taken effect, at least so as to cripple him. There was a streak of blood visible on his brown body, but the wound, wherever it was did not seem to hinder him in his flight.

I thought there could be no chance of his escape, and I had no intention of emptying my gun at such a mark. I remained, therefore, among the bushes, screening myself behind the leaves and watching the chase.

Some of the hunters continued to follow him on foot, while the more cunning ones rushed back for their horses. These happened to be all on the opposite side of the thicket, with one exception, and that was the mare of the trapper Rube. She was browsing where Rube had dismounted, out among the slaughtered buffaloes, and directly in the line of the chase.

As the savage approached her, a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and diverging slightly from his course, he plucked up the picket-pin, coiled the la.s.so with the dexterity of a gaucho, and sprang upon the animal's back.

It was a well-conceived idea, but unfortunate for the Indian. He had scarcely touched the saddle when a peculiar shout was heard above all other sounds. It was a call uttered in the voice of the earless trapper. The mustang recognised it; and instead of running forward, obedient to the guidance of her rider, she wheeled suddenly and came galloping back. At this moment a shot fired at the savage scorched her hip, and, setting back her ears, she commenced squealing and kicking so violently that all her feet seemed to be in the air at the same time.

The Indian now endeavoured to fling himself from the saddle; but the alternate plunging of the fore and hind quarters kept him for some moments tossing in a sort of balance. He was at length pitched outward, and fell to the ground upon his back. Before he could recover himself a Mexican had ridden up, and with his long lance pinned him to the earth.

A scene followed in which Rube played the princ.i.p.al character; in fact, had "the stage to himself."

"Sodger guns" were sent to perdition; and as the old trapper was angry about the wound which his mare had received, "crook-eyed greenhorns"

came in for a share of his anathemas. The mustang, however, had sustained no serious damage; and after this was ascertained, the emphatic ebullitions of her master's anger subsided into a low growling, and then ceased altogether.

As there appeared no sign that there were other savages in the neighbourhood, the next concern of the hunters was to satisfy their hunger. Fires were soon kindled, and a plenteous repast of buffalo meat produced the desired effect.

After the meal was ended, a consultation was held. It was agreed that we should move forward to the old mission, which was known to be not over ten miles distant. We could there defend ourselves in case of an attack from the tribe of Coyoteros, to which the three savages belonged.

It was feared by all that these might strike our trail, and come up with us before we could take our departure from the ruin.

The buffaloes were speedily skinned and packed, and taking a westerly course, we journeyed on to the mission.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

A BITTER TRAP.

We reached the ruin a little after sunset. We frightened the owl and the wolf, and made our bivouac among the crumbling walls. Our horses were picketed upon the deserted lawns, and in the long-neglected orchards, where the ripe fruit was raining down its ungathered showers.

Fires were kindled, lighting the grey pile with their cheerful blazing; and joints of meat were taken out of the hide-packs and roasted for supper.

There was water in abundance. A branch of the San Pedro swept past the walls of the mission. There were yams in the spoliated gardens; there were grapes, and pomegranates, and quinces, and melons, and pears, and peaches, and apples; and with all these was our repast garnished.

It was soon over, and videttes were thrown out on the tracks that led to the ruin. The men were weak and weary with their late fasting, and in a short while stretched themselves by their saddles and slept.

So much for our first night at the mission of San Pedro.

We were to remain for three days, or until the buffalo meat should be dried for packing.

They were irksome days to me. Idleness displayed the bad qualities of my half-savage a.s.sociates. The ribald jest and fearful oath rang continually in my ears, until I was fain to wander off to the woods with the old botanist, who, during these three days, revelled in the happy excitement of discovery.

I found companionship also in the Maricopa. This strange man had studied science deeply, and was conversant with almost every noted author. He was reserved only when I wished him to talk of himself.

Seguin during these days was taciturn and lonely. He took but little heed of what was going on around him. He seemed to be suffering from impatience, as every now and then he paid a visit to the tasajo. He pa.s.sed many hours upon the adjacent heights, looking anxiously towards the east: that point whence our spies would come in from the Pinon.

There was an azotea on the ruin. I was in the habit of seeking this place at evening after the sun had grown less fervid. It afforded a fine prospect of the valley; but its chief attraction to me lay in the retirement I could there obtain. The hunters rarely climbed up to it, and their wild and licenced converse was unheard for the time. I used to spread my blanket among the crumbling parapets, and stretched upon it, deliver myself up to the sweet retrospect, or to still sweeter dreams that my fancy outlined upon the future. There was one object on my memory: upon that object only did my hopes dwell.

I need not make this declaration; at least to those who have truly loved.

In the programme placed before me by Seguin, I had not bargained for such wanton cruelties as I was now compelled to witness. It was not the time to look back, but forward, and perhaps, over other scenes of blood and brutality, to that happier hour, when I should have redeemed my promise, and won the prize, beautiful Zoe.

My reverie was interrupted. I heard voices and footsteps; they were approaching the spot where I lay. I could see that there were two men engaged in an earnest conversation. They did not notice me, as I was behind some fragments of the broken parapet, and in the shadow. As they drew nearer, I recognised the patois of my Canadian follower, and that of his companion was not to be mistaken. The brogue was Barney's, beyond a doubt.

These worthies, I had lately noticed, had become "as thick as two thieves," and were much in each other's company. Some act of kindness had endeared the "infantry" to his more astute and experienced a.s.sociate, who had taken him under his patronage and protection.

I was vexed at the intrusion; but prompted by some impulse of curiosity, I lay still and listened.

Barney was speaking as they approached.

"In trath, Misther Gowdey, an' it's meself 'ud go far this blissed night for a dhrap o' the crayter. I noticed the little kig afore; but divil resave me av I thought it was anythin' barrin' cowld water. Vistment!

only think o' the owld Dutch sinner bringin' a whole kig wid 'im, an'

keepin' it all to himself. Yez are sure now it's the stuff?"

"Oui! oui! C'est liqueur! aguardiente."

"Agwardenty, ye say, div ye?"

"Oui! c'est vrai, Monsieur Barney. I have him smell, ver many time. It is of stink tres fort: strong! good!"

"But why cudn't ye stale it yerself? Yez know exactly where the doctor keeps it, an' ye might get at it a hape handier than I can."