Gold

  CHAPTER XXV

  BATTLE

  We had a good deal of trouble finding the exact spot where we had lefthim, for we could get no answer to our calls. He was down in a heap,covered with blood, and quite dead. The savages had scalped him. In ourlong companionship we had grown very fond of him, for he was a merry,good-natured, willing soul.

  "God!" cried Bagsby, deeply moved. "I'll put a ball through the next oneof those devils I meet!"

  We returned slowly to the fire, carrying the body, which we laidreverently one side and covered with a blanket. In all our hearts burneda fierce, bitter anger. Sullenly we turned to prepare ourselves a mealfrom the supplies our hosts offered us.

  The latter were the father and five sons of a backwoods family from thenorthwest--Pine, by name. They were all tall, heavily built men, slowmoving, slow speaking, with clear, steady eyes, a drawling way oftalking, and the appearance always of keeping a mental reservation as tothose with whom they conversed. I suppose they were ignorant enough men,as far as education goes, but they always impressed me as being somehowa superior type. Possibly it was because of the fact that they perfectlycorresponded to their environment, which was the wilderness.

  In detail, the old man was upward of sixty, his beard long and grizzled,his hair about his shoulders. The oldest son would count about thirty,and the others went down in stepladder fashion to the youngster, a fine,big, smooth-faced boy of sixteen. They were named after old Pine'sfavourite heroes, evidently. There was David Crockett Pine, and GovernorBoggs Pine, and President Tyler Pine, and Daniel Boone Pine, and OldHickory Pine, the youngest, an apparent contradiction in terms. Theywere called by their odd first names--Governor, President, Old--withoutthe least humour.

  Just now they stood tall and grim behind us as we ate; and the gray dawnand the rose dawn grew into day. Nobody said anything until we hadfinished. Then Yank rose to his full height and faced the attentive men.

  "I want vengeance," he announced in an even voice, stretching forth hislong, lean arm. "Those devils have harried our stock and killed ourpardner; and I'm not going to set quiet and let them do it." He turnedto us: "Boys," said he, "I know you're with me thar. But I'm going togit our friends yere to go with us. Old man," he said to Pine, "you andyore sons help us with this job, and we'll locate you on the purtiestdiggings in these hills."

  "You bet!" agreed McNally.

  "You don't need to make my boys no offer," replied Pine slowly. "Thosedivils were after our hosses too; and they'd have got them if you hadn'tcome along. We'd been told by a man we believe that there wan't noInjuns in this country, or you wouldn't have seen us sleeping es closeto our fire. Whar do you-all reckon to come up with them?"

  Our old trapper interposed.

  "Their rancheree is down the valley somewhars," said Bagsby, "and we'llhave to scout for it. We must go back to camp first and get a ready."

  McNally and I murmured against this check to immediate action, but sawthe point after a moment. The Pines packed their slender outfit; webound the body of our poor friend across his horse, and mournfullyretraced our steps.

  We arrived in camp about ten o'clock, to find Johnny and Don Gasparanxiously on the alert. When we had imparted our news, their faces, too,darkened with anger. Of us all Vasquez had been the only man who neverlost his temper, who had always a flash of a smile for the hardest days.Hastily we threw together provisions for several days, and arranged ouraffairs as well as we could. We all wanted to go; and Don Gaspar, inspite of the remains of his malarial fever, fairly insisted onaccompanying the expedition.

  "Senores," he said with dignity, "this was my own man from my ownpeople."

  Nevertheless somebody had to stay in camp, although at first some of uswere inclined to slur over that necessity.

  "There's a strong chance that Injuns will drift by and take all oursupplies," Bagsby pointed out.

  "Chances are slim--in only a day or so; you must admit that," arguedJohnny. "Let's risk it. We can scratch along if they do take our stuff."

  "And the gold?"

  That nonplussed us for a moment.

  "Why not bury it?" I suggested.

  Bagsby and Pine snorted.

  "Any Injun would find it in a minute," said Pine.

  "And they know gold's worth something, too," put in Yank.

  "This is a scout, not a house-moving expedition," said Bagsby decidedly,"and somebody's got to keep camp."

  "I'll stay, fer one," offered old man Pine, his eyes twinkling frombeneath his fierce brows. "I've fit enough Injuns in my time."

  After some further wrangling we came to drawing lots. A number of smallwhite pebbles and one darker were shaken up in a hat. I drew in thefourth turn, and got the black!

  "Hard luck, son!" murmured old man Pine.

  The rest were eager to be off. They leaped upon their horses,brandishing their long rifles, and rode off down the meadow. Old manPine leaned on the muzzle of his gun, his eyes gleaming, utteringcommands and admonitions to his five sons.

  "You Old," he warned his youngest, "you mind and behave; and don't comeback yere without'n you bring a skelp!"

  We spent the next two days strictly in defence, for we dared not staylong from the stockade. I was so thoroughly downcast at missing thefight that I paid little attention to Pine's well-meant talk. Mydepression was enhanced by the performance of the duty the others hadleft to our leisure. I mean the interment of poor Vasquez. We buried himin a grassy little flat; and I occupied my time hewing and fashioninginto the shape of a cross two pine logs, on the smoothed surface ofwhich I carved our friend's name. Then I returned to the stockade, whereold man Pine, a picturesque, tall figure in his fringed hunter'sbuckskin, sat motionless before the cabin door. From that point ofvantage one could see a mile down the valley, and some distanceupstream; and one or the other of us occupied it constantly.

  About three o'clock of the second day Pine remarked quietly:

  "Thar they come!"

  I was instantly by his side, and we strained our eyesight in an attemptto count the shifting figures. Pine's vision was better and morepractised than mine.

  "They are all thar," said he, "and they're driving extry hosses."

  Ten minutes later the cavalcade stopped and the men dismounted wearily.They were, as the old man had said, driving before them a half dozenponies, which Governor Boggs herded into the corral. Nobody said a word.One or two stretched themselves. Johnny seized the cup and took a longdrink. Yank leaned his rifle against the wall. Old man Pine's keen,fierce eye had been roving over every detail, though he, too, had keptsilent.

  "Well, Old," he remarked, "I see you obeyed orders like a good sojer."

  The boy grinned.

  "Yes, dad," said he.

  And then I saw what I had not noticed before: that at the belt of eachof the tall, silent young backwoodsmen hung one or more wet, heavy, redand black soggy strips. The scalping had been no mere figure of speech!Thank heaven! none of our own people were similarly decorated!

  So horrified and revolted was I at this discovery that I hardly rousedmyself to greet the men. I looked with aversion, and yet with a certainfascination on the serene, clear features of these scalp takers. Yet,since, in the days following, this aversion could not but wear away inface of the simplicity and straightforwardness of the frontiersmen, Ihad to acknowledge that the atrocious deed was more a product of customthan of natural barbarity.

  Old Pine, of course not at all affected, bustled about in the morepractical matter of getting coffee and cutting meat; and after a momentI aroused myself to help him. The men lay about on the ground exhausted.They drank the coffee and ate the meat, and so revived, little bylittle, arrived at the point of narration.

  "It's sure one hell of a ride down there," remarked McNally with a sigh.

  "Good deal like the foothills of th' Snake Range, pop," put in PresidentTyler Pine.

  "We been riding purty nigh every minute sence we left here," agreedBagsby. "That rancheree was hard to find."

  Littl
e by little the tale developed. No one man, in the presence of allthe others, felt like telling us the whole story. We gathered that theyhad ridden the canon for several hours, past our first camping grounds,and finally out into the lower ranges. Here they lost the trail left bythe Indians when they had first visited our camp; but in casting incircles for it had come on fresher pony tracks. These they had followedpersistently for many miles.

  "_I_ couldn't see the sign of a track for a mile at a time, on thathard ground," interpolated Johnny.

  At length the tracks had struck into a beaten trail.

  "And then we knew we were on the way to the rancheree," said Bagsby.

  The village they found located in a flat by the side of a stream, andthey halted to determine just what to do. It was finally decided thatwhile an attack on horseback would undoubtedly strike more instantterror, yet the difficulty of shooting accurately from a gallop wouldmore than offset this effect. Therefore nine of the party crept upafoot, leaving three to lead forward the horses some distance in therear.

  "I was one of them," said Johnny. "They evidently have seen me shoot. Iseem to be always out of it."

  The men had wormed their way to within a hundred yards of the flimsyhuts, or tepees, when they were discovered by the dogs. The Indiansimmediately rushed out pell-mell, in a crowd, and were met by a deadlyvolley from the white men's rifles. Caught absolutely by surprise, theyturned and fled. Some few loosed random arrows. Their horses coming upat a run in convoy of the rear guard, each man threw himself into hissaddle and started in pursuit, shooting right and left with the Colt'srevolvers whenever they caught up with the fugitives. Johnny toldadmiringly how the backwoodsmen had reloaded their rifles whilegalloping.

  "All I could do to shoot mine off, let alone loading!" he confessed.

  There was no resistance, and little mortality after the first volley.The Indians bolted like rabbits into the brush. The white men thenreturned leisurely to the village, which they proceeded to burn to theground.

  "It made a grand bonfire," interrupted Johnny. "Went up like gunpowder.And the Indians yelled and howled at us from the sidehills all thetime."

  The raiders had fired a few defiant and random shots in the direction ofthe howling, and then, after collecting the ponies that had notstampeded, rode slowly back the way they had come.

  "Didn't see anything of our three horses?" I asked.

  "Nary hoss," said Buck Barry. "I figger they jest nat'rally stampededoff when the row started."

  "Are you sure those were the same Indians?" I asked.

  A long silence fell.

  "Well, what if they wasn't--and that's by no means sure," demanded BuckBarry at last, a little defiantly. "The whole lot is thieves andmurderers; and if they'd had a chance at us, you bet they'd have takenit. And we showed the red devils they can't monkey with us!"

  I looked toward the cross over Vasquez, murdered as wantonly as ever manwas murdered for plunder, and could find nothing to say. Whatever theeternal equities of the case may be--and long since I have given uptrying to guess what they are--the cold, practical fact remains, thatnever during our stay on the Porcupine did any Indian come near usagain. And I am convinced that if the initial stealing of horses andmurder had gone without reprisal, we should have been a second time andmore boldly attacked. But if that was the wrong village, what a train ofreprisals and reprisals again in turn we may have laid!

  "Only we didn't start it, and never would have!" persisted Johnnystoutly.