CHAPTER XIII
HURRAH FOR TEXAS
At daylight the only Indians in sight were several rifle shots from thecaravan, but encircling it. Hostilities of every nature apparently hadceased, but without causing the travelers to relax in their vigilance.Breakfast was over before the savages made any move and then a sizablebody of them came charging over the prairie, brandishing their weaponsand yelling at the top of their voices. While not the equals of theComanches in horsemanship they were good riders and as they raced towardthe encampment, showing every trick they knew, the spectacle was wellworth watching.
"Showin' off," said Jim Ogden. "Want ter talk with us. Now we got terstop them fool greenhorns from shootin'!"
At his warning his companions ran along the line of wagons and beggedthat not a shot be fired until the captain gave the word. If the Indianswanted a parley the best thing would be to give it to them.
Meanwhile the captain and two experienced men rode slowly forward,stopping while still within rifle shot of their friends. The chargingsavages pulled up suddenly and stopped, three of their number ridingahead with the same unconcern and calm dignity as the white men hadshown. One of them raised a hand, palm out, and when well outside of therange of the rifles of the encampment, stopped and waited. CaptainWoodson, raising his hand, led his two companions at a slow walk towardthe waiting Indians and when he stopped, the two little parties werewithin easy speaking distance of each other. Each group was careful toshow neither distrust nor fear, and apparently neither was armed. Erectin their saddles, each waited for the other to speak.
"My young men are angry because the white men and their wagons havecrossed the Pawnee country and have frightened away the buffalo," saidthe leader of the warriors, a chief, through an interpreter.
"The buffalo are like the grass of the prairies," replied Woodson. "Theyare all around us and are bold enough to charge our wagons on the marchand frighten our animals."
"From the Loup Fork to the Arkansas, from the Big Muddy to the greatmountains, is Pawnee country, which none dare enter."
"The Cheyennes, the Arapahoes, the Osages, and other brave tribes tellus the same thing. We do not know what tribe owns this prairie; but wedo know that friends are always welcome in the Pawnee country, and webring presents for our brave brothers, presents of beads and coloredcloth and glasses that show a man his spirit."
"The white chief speaks well; but my braves are angry."
"And my young men are angry because they could not sleep and theiranimals were frightened like the Comanches are frightened by thePawnees," replied Woodson. "They are hot-headed and are angry at mebecause I would not let them make war on our friends, the Pawnees."
"The young men of the Pawnees have not the wisdom of years and did notknow the white men were friends, and had brought them presents of horsesand powder and whiskey."
"I have told my young men that the Pawnees are friends. We did not thinkwe would meet our red brothers and have horses only for ourselves. Ourwhiskey and powder are for the great Pawnee chiefs; our beads and clothfor their young men."
"It is well," replied the chief. After a moment's silence he lookedkeenly into Woodson's eyes. "The Pawnees are sad. White Bear and two ofour young men have not returned to their people." His eyes flashed and atenseness seized him and his companions. "Great Eagle wants to know ifhis white friends have seen them?"
"Great Eagle's friends found three brave Pawnees in front of theirthunder guns and they feared our young men would fire the great medicinerifles and hurt the Pawnees. We sent out and brought White Bear and hiswarriors to our camp and treated them as welcome guests. Each of themshall have a horse and a musket, with powder and ball, that they willnot misunderstand our roughness."
At that moment yells broke out on all sides of the encampment andwarriors were seen dashing west along the trail. A well-armed caravan oftwenty-two wagons crawled toward the creek, and Woodson secretlyexulted. It was the annual fur caravan from Bent's Fort to the Missourisettlements and every member of it was an experienced man.
The fur train did not seem to be greatly excited by the charging horde,for it only interposed a line of mounted men between the wagons and thesavages. The two leaders wheeled and rode slowly off to meet the Indiansand soon a second parley was taking place. After a little time the furcaravan, which had moved steadily ahead, reached the encampment andswiftly formed on one side of it. With the coming of this re-enforcementof picked men all danger of war ceased.
Before noon the Pawnee chiefs and some of the elder warriors had paidtheir visit, received their presents, sold a few horses to wagoners whohad jaded animals and then returned to their camp, pitched along thebanks of the creek a short distance away. The afternoon was spent invisiting between the two encampments and the night in alert vigilance.At dawn the animals were turned out to graze under a strong guard andbefore noon the caravan was on its way again, its rear guard andflankers doubled in strength.
Shortly after leaving Ash Creek they came to great sections of theprairie where the buffalo grass was cropped as short as though a herd ofsheep had crossed it. It marked the grazing ground of the more compactbuffalo herds. The next creek was Pawnee Fork, but since it lay only sixmiles from the last stopping place, and because it was wise to put agreater distance between them and the Pawnees, the caravan crossed itclose to where it emptied into the Arkansas, the trail circling at thedouble bend of the creek and crossing it twice. Great care was needed tokeep the wagons from upsetting here, but it was put behind withoutaccident and the night was spent on the open prairie not far from LittleCoon Creek.
The fuel question was now solved and while the buffalo chips, plentifulall around them, made execrable, smudgy fires in wet weather if theywould burn at all, in dry weather they gave a quick, hot fire excellentto cook on and one which threw out more heat, with equal amounts offuel, than one of wood; and after an amusing activity in collecting thechips the entire camp was soon girdled by glowing fires.
The next day saw them nooning at the last named creek, and beforenightfall they had crossed Big Coon Creek. For the last score of milesthey had found such numbers of rattlesnakes that the reptiles became anuisance; but notwithstanding this they camped here for the night, whichwas made more or less exciting because several snakes sought warmth inthe blankets of some of the travelers. It is not a pleasant feeling towake up and find a three-foot prairie rattlesnake coiled up againstone's stomach. Fortunately there were no casualties among the travelersbut, needless to say, there was very little sleep.
Next came the lower crossing of the Arkansas, where there was somewrangling about the choice of fords; many, fearing the seasonal rise ofthe river, which they thought was due almost any minute, urged that itbe crossed here, despite the scarcity of water, and the heavy pullingamong the sand-hills on the other side.
Woodson and the more experienced traders and hunters preferred to chancethe rise, even at the cost of a few days' delay, and to cross at theupper ford. This would give them better roads, plenty of water andgrass, a safer ford and a shorter drive across the desert-like plainbetween the Arkansas and the Cimarron. Eventually he had his way andafter spending the night at the older ford the caravan went on againalong the north bank of the river, and reached The Caches in time tocamp near them. The grass-covered pits were a curiosity and the story ofhow Baird and Chambers had been forced to dig them to cache their goodstwenty years before, found many interested listeners.
All this day a heavy rain had poured down, letting up only for a fewminutes in the late afternoon, and again falling all night withincreased volume. With it came one of those prairie windstorms whichhave made the weather of the plains famous. Tents and wagon covers werewhipped into fringes, several of them being torn loose and blown away;two lightly loaded wagons were overturned, and altogether the night wasthe most miserable of any experienced so far. While the inexperiencedgrumbled and swore, Woodson was pleased, for in spite of the delayedcrossing of the river, he knew that the dreaded Dry Route beyondCimarr
on Crossing would be a pleasant stretch in comparison to what itusually was.
Morning found a dispirited camp, and no effort was made to get under wayuntil it was too late to cover the twenty miles to the Cimarron Crossingthat day, and rather than camp without water it was decided to lose aday here. It would be necessary to wait for the river to fall againbefore they would dare to attempt the crossing and the time might aswell be spent here as farther on. The rain fell again that night and allthe following day, but the wind was moderate. The river was beingwatched closely and it was found that it had risen four feet since theyreached The Caches; but this was nothing unusual, for, like most prairiestreams, the Arkansas rose quickly until its low banks were overflowed,when the loss of volume by the flooding of so much country checked itappreciably; and its fall, once the rains ceased, would be as rapid.High water was not the only consideration in regard to the fording ofthe river, for the soft bottom, disturbed by the strong current, soonlost what little firmness it had along this part of the great bend, andbecame treacherous with quicksand. That it was not true quicksand madebut little difference so long as it mired teams and wagons.
Another argument now was begun. There were several fords of the Arkansasbetween this point and the mountains; and there were two routes fromhere on, the shorter way across the dry plain of the Cimarron, as directas any unsurveyed trail could be, and the longer, more roundabout wayleading another hundred miles farther up the river and crossing it notfar from Bent's Fort, over a pebbly and splendid ford. From here itturned south along the divide between Apishara Creek and the PurgatoireRiver, climbed over the mountain range through Raton Pass, and joinedthe more direct trail near Santa Clara Spring under the shadow of theWagon Mound. Beside the ford above Bent's Fort there was another, aboutthirty miles above The Caches, which crossed the river near Chouteau'sIsland.
Each ford and each way had its adherents, but after great argument andwrangling the Dry Route was decided upon, its friends not only provingthe wisdom of taking the shorter route, but also claimed that theunpleasantness of the miles of dry traveling was no worse than the roughand perilous road over Raton Pass, where almost any kind of an accidentcould happen to a wagon and where, if the caravan were attacked by Utesor Apaches before it reached the mountain pasture near the top, theywould be caught in a strung-out condition and corralling would beimpossible. The danger from a possible ambush and from rocks rolled downfrom above, in themselves, were worse than the desert stretch of theshorter route.
At last dawn broke with a clear sky, and with praiseworthy speed theroutine of the camp was rushed and the wagons were heading westwardagain. Late that afternoon the four divisions became two and rolled downthe slope toward the Cimarron Crossing, going into camp within a shortdistance of the rushing river. The sun had shone all day and the nightpromised to be clear, and some of the traders whose goods had beenwetted by the storm at The Caches when their wagon covers had beendamaged or blown away, took quick advantage of the good weather tospread their merchandise over several acres of sand and stubby brush todry out thoroughly; and the four days spent here, waiting for the riverto fall, accomplished the work satisfactorily, although at times the skywas overcast and threatened rain, while the nights were damp.
Some of the more impetuous travelers urged that time would be saved ifbullboats were made by stretching buffalo hides over the wagon boxes andfloating them across. This had been done more than once, but with only aday or so to wait, and no pressing need for speed, the time saved wouldnot be worth the hard work and the risk of such ferrying. At last therepeated soundings of the bottom began to look favorable and word waspassed around that the crossing would take place as soon as the campwas ready to be left the next morning, providing that no rain fellduring the night.
Daylight showed a bright sky and a little lower level of the river andit was not long before the first wagon drawn by four full teams, after awarming-up drive, rumbled down the bank and hit the water with a splash.The bottom was still too soft to take things easy in crossing and theteams were not allowed to pause after once they had entered the water. Amoment's stop might mire both teams and wagons and cause no end oftrouble, hard work, and delay. All day long the wagons crossed and atnight they were safely corralled on the farther bank, on the edge of theDry Route and no longer on United States soil.
That evening the leaders of the divisions went among their followers andurged that in the morning every water cask and container available forholding water be filled. This flat, monotonous, dry plain might requirethree days to cross and every drop of water would be precious. Shouldany be found after the recent rains it would be in buffalo wallows andmore fit for animals than for human beings. Again in the morning thewarning was carried to every person in the camp and the need for heedingit gravely emphasized; and when the caravan started on the laborious andtreacherous journey across the fringe of sand-hills and hillocks whichextended for five or six miles beyond the river, where upsetting ofwagons was by no means an exception, half a dozen wagons had empty watercasks. Their owners had been too busy doing inconsequential things tothink of obeying the orders for a "water scrape," given for their owngood.
The outlying hilly fringe of sand was not as bad as had been expectedfor the heavy rains had wetted it well and packed the sand somewhat; butwhen the great flat plain was reached and the rough belt left behind,two wagons had been overturned and held up the whole caravan while theywere unloaded, righted, and re-packed. Since no one had been injured themisfortunes had been taken lightly and the columns went on again in goodspirits.
It was not yet noon when the advance guard came upon an unusual sight.The plain was torn and scored and covered with sheepskin saddle-pads,broken riding gear, battered and discarded firelocks of so ancient avintage that it were doubtful whether they would be as dangerous to anenemy as they might be to their owners; broken lances, bows and arrows,torn clothing, a two-wheeled cart overturned and partly burned, and halfa score dead mules and horses.
Captain Woodson looked from the strewed ground, around the faces of hiscompanions.
"Injuns an' greasers?" he asked, glancing at the remains of the_carreta_ in explanation of the "greaser" end of the couplet. Thereplies were affirmative in nature until Tom Boyd, looking fixedly atone remnant of clothing, swept it from the ground and regarded it inamazement. Without a word he passed it on to Hank, who eyed it knowinglyand sent it along.
"I'm bettin' th' Texans licked 'em good," growled Tom. "It's about timesomebody paid 'em fer that damnable, two thousand mile trail o'sufferin' an' death! Wish I'd had a hand in this fight!"
Assenting murmurs came from the hunters and trappers, all of whom wouldhave been happy to have pulled trigger with the wearers of the coatswith the Lone Star buttons.
Tom shook his head after a moment's reflection. "Hope it war reg'largreaser troops an' not poor devils pressed inter service. That's th'worst o' takin' revenge; ye likely take it out o' th' hides of them thatain't to blame, an' th' _guilty_ dogs ain't hurt."
"Mebby Salezar war leadin' 'em!" growled Hank. "Hope so!"
"Hope not!" snapped Tom, his eyes glinting. "_I_ want Salezar! I wanthim in my two hands, with plenty o' time an' nobody around! I'd as soonhave _him_ as Armijo!"
"Who's he?" asked a tenderfoot. "And what about the Texans, and thisfight here?"
"He's the greaser cur that had charge o' th' Texan prisoners from SantaFe to El Paso, where they war turned over to a gentleman an' aChristian," answered Tom, his face tense. "I owe him fer th' death, bystarvation an' abuse, of as good a friend as any man ever had: an' if Igit my hands on him he'll pay fer it! _That's_ who he is!"
The first day's travel across the dry stretch, notwithstanding the starthad been later than was hoped for, rolled off more than twenty miles ofthe flat, monotonous plain. Even here the grama grass was not entirelymissing, and a nooning of two hours was taken to let the animals crop asmuch of it as they could find. While the caravan was now getting ontothe fringe of the Kiowa and Comanche country, troubl
e with these tribes,at this time of the year, was not expected until the Cimarron wasreached and for this reason the urging for mileage was allowed to keepthe wagons moving until dark. During the night the wagoners aroseseveral times to change the picket stakes of their animals, hoping bythis and by lengthened ropes to make up for the scantiness of the grass.In one other way was the sparsity of the grazing partly made up, for thegrama grass was a concentrated food, its small seed capsules reputed tocontain a nourishment approaching that of oats of the same size.
The heat of the day had been oppressive and the contents of the watercasks were showing the effects of it. The feather-headed or stubbornknow-it-alls who had ignored the call of "water scrape" back on the bankof the Arkansas now were humble pilgrims begging for drinks from theirmore provident companions. Tom and Hank had filled their ten-galloncasks and put them in Joe Cooper's wagons for the use of his and theiranimals which, being mules, found a dry journey less trying than theheavy-footed oxen of other teams. The mules also showed an ability farbeyond their horned draft fellows in picking up sufficient food; theyalso were free from the foot troubles which now began to be shown by theoxen. The triumphant wagoners of the muddier portions of the trail,whose oxen had caused them to exult by the way they had out-pulled themules in every mire, now became thoughtful and lost their levity.
Breakfast was cooked and eaten before daylight and the wagons werestrung out in the four column formation before dawn streaked the sky. Afew buffalo wallows, half full of water from the recent rains, relievedthe situation, and the thirsty animals emptied their slightly alkalinecontents to the last obtainable drop. This second day found the plainmore barren, more desolate, its flat floor apparently interminable, andthe second night camp was not made until after dark, the wagonscorralling by the aid of candle lanterns slung from their rear axles. Itwas a silent camp, lacking laughter and high-pitched voices; and thebegging water seekers, while not denied their drinks, were received witha sullenness which was eloquent. One of them was moved to complainquerulously to Tom Boyd of the treatment he had received at one wagon,and forthwith learned a few facts about himself and his kind.
"Look hyar," drawled Tom in his best frontier dialect. "If I war runnin'this caravan yer tongue would be hangin' out fer th' want o' a drink.You war warned, fair an' squar, back on th' Arkansas, ter carry all th'water ye could. But ye knew it all, jest like ye know it all every timea better man gives ye an order. If it warn't fer yer kind th' Injunsalong th' trail would be friendly. Hyar, let me tell ye somethin':
"We been follerin', day after day, a plain trail, so plain that even_you_ could foller it. But thar was a time when thar warn't no trail,but jest an unmarked plain, without a landmark, level as it is now, all'round fur's th' eye could reach. Thar warn't much knowed about it yearsago, an' sometimes a caravan wandered 'round out hyar, its water gonean' th' men an' animals slowly dyin' fer a drink. Some said go _this_way, some said to go _that_ way; others, _other_ ways. Nobody knowedwhich war right, an' so they went every-which way, addin' mile to milein thar wanderin'. Then they blindly stumbled onter th' Cimarron, whichthey had ter do if they follered thar compasses an' kept on goin' south;an' when they got thar they found it dry! Do ye understand that? Theyfound th' river _dry_! Jest a river bed o' sand, mile after mile, dry asa bone.
"Which way should they go? It warn't a question _then_, o' headin' ferSanta Fe; but o' headin' _any_ way a-tall ter git ter th' nearest water.If they went down they was as bad off as if they went up, fer th' bedwar dry fer miles either way in a dry season. Sufferin'? Hell! you don'tknow what sufferin' is! A few o' you fools air thirsty, but yer beggin'gits ye water. Suppose thar warn't no water a-tall in th' hull caravan,fer men, wimmin, children, or animals? Suppose ye war so thirsty thatyou'd drink what ye found in th' innards o' some ol' buffalo yer warlucky enough ter kill, an' near commit murder ter git furst chanct atit? That war done onct. Don't ye let me hear ye bellerin' about bein'thirsty! Suppose we all had done like you, back thar on th' Arkansas?An' don't ye come ter _us_ fer water! If we had bar'ls o' it, we'd pourit out under yer nose afore we'd give ye a mouthful! Yer larnin' somelessons this hyar trip, but yer larnin' 'em too late. Go 'bout yerbusiness an' think things over. We're comin' ter bad Injun country. Ifye got airy sense a-tall in yer chuckle head ye'll mebby have a chanctter show it."
Before noon on the third day, after crossing more broken country whichwas cut up with many dry washes through which the wagons wallowed inimminent danger of being wrecked, the caravan came to the Cimarron, andfound it dry. Cries of consternation broke out on all sides, and werefollowed by dogmatic denials that it was the Cimarron. The argumentswaged hotly between those who were making their first trip and the moreexperienced traders. Who ever heard of a dry river? This was onlyanother dry wash, wider and longer, but only a wash. The Cimarron laybeyond.
Here ensued the most serious of all the disagreements, for a largenumber of the members of the caravans scoffed when told that byfollowing the plain wagon tracks they would soon reach the lower springof the Cimarron. How could the spring be found when this was not theCimarron River at all? They knew that when Woodson had been elected atCouncil Grove that he was not fitted to take charge of the caravan; thathis officers were incompetent, and now they were sure of it. Anyone withsense could see that this was no river. If it were a river, then theprairie-dog mounds they had just passed were mountains. Here was asituation which needed more than tact, for if the doubting minority wasallowed to follow their inclinations they might find a terrible death atthe end of their wanderings. Dogmatic and pugnacious, almost hystericalin their repeated determination to go on and find the river, they mustbe saved, by force if necessary, from themselves. They would not listento the plea that they go on a few miles and let the spring prove them tobe wrong; there was no spring to be found in a few miles if it waslocated on the Cimarron. Woodson and others argued, begged, and at lastthreatened. They pointed out that they were familiar with every foot ofthe trail from one end to the other; that they had made the journey yearafter year, spring and fall; that here was the deeply cut trail,pointing out the way to water, where other wagons had rolled beforethem, following the plain and unequivocal tracks. The debate was growingnoisier and more heated when Tom stepped forward and raised his hand.
"Listen!" he shouted again and again, and at last was given a grudgedhearing. "Let's prove this question, for it's a mighty serious one," hecried. "Last year, where th' trail hit th' Cimarron, which had somewater in it then, a team of mules, frantic from thirst, ran away with aDearborn carriage as the driver was getting out. When we came up withthem we found one of them with a broken leg, struggling in the wreckageof the carriage. I have not been out of your sight all morning, and if Itell you where to find that wrecked carriage, and you _do_ find it,you'll know that I'm tellin' th' truth, an' that this is th' Cimarron.Go along this bank, about four hundred yards, an' you'll find asteep-walled ravine some thirty feet higher than th' bed of th' river.At th' bottom of it, a hundred yards from th' river bank, you'll findwhat's left of th' Dearborn. When you come back we'll show you how torelieve your thirst and to get enough water to let you risk goin' on toth' spring."
Sneers and ridicule replied to him, but a skeptical crowd, led by theman he had lectured the night before, followed his suggestion and soonreturned with the word that the wrecked carriage had been found justwhere Tom had said it would be. The contentious became softened and madeup in sullenness what they lacked in pugnacity; for there are some who,proven wrong, find cause for anger in the correction, their stubbornnessof such a quality that it seems to prefer to hold to an error and takethe penalties than to accept safety by admitting that they are wrong.
In the meanwhile the experienced travelers had gone down into the riverbed and dug holes in the sand which, thanks to the recent rains, was amasked reservoir and yielded all the water needed at a depth of two orthree feet. After a hard struggle with the thirsty animals to keep themfrom stampeding for the water their nostrils scented, at last all hadbeen wa
tered and the wagons formed for the noon camp. Humbled greenhornswho had neglected the "water scrape" at the Arkansas were silentlydigging holes along the river bed and filling every vessel they couldspare. They were making the acquaintance of a river of a kind they neverhad seen before.
Here they found a dry stretch, despite the heavy rains; had they nowgone down or up its bed they would have found alternating sections ofwater and dry sand, and in the water sections they would have found acurrent. Some of the traders maintained that its real bed was solid,unfractured rock, many feet below the sand which covered it, which heldthe water as in a pipe and let it follow its tendency to seek its level.The deep sand blotted and hid the meager stream where the bottom wasfarther below the sand's surface; but where the porous layer was not sothick, the volume of water, being larger than that of the sand,submerged the filling and flowed in plain sight. Some of the moreuncritical held that the water flowed with the periodicity of tides,which like many other irrational suppositions, seemed to give therequired explanation of the river's peculiarities. There was no doubt,however, about the porosity of its sandy bed, nor the amount of sand init, for even after the most severe and prolonged summer rainstorms,which filled the river to overflowing, a few days sufficed to dry it upagain and restore its characteristics.
Having full water casks again the hysteria had subsided and the caravanset out toward the lower spring, which was reached just beforenightfall. Here they found two men comfortably camped, despite the factthat they were in the country of their implacable foes. At first theyshowed a poorly hidden alarm at the appearance of the wagons but,finding that they aroused no especial interest, they made themselves apart of the camp and began to get acquainted; but it was noticeable thatthey chose the hunters and trappers in preference to the traders, andcarefully ignored the many Mexicans with the train. But no matter howcareful they were in their speech they could not hide their identity,for the buttons on their torn and soiled clothing all showed the LoneStar of Texas, and to certain of the plainsmen this insignia made themcordially welcome. Among the Mexicans it made them just as cordiallyhated.
Tom Boyd espied them when the corral had been formed and invited them tojoin him and Hank at supper. A few words between the Texans and the twoplainsmen established a close bond between them, and they became friendsthe instant Tom mentioned the partner he had lost on the march of theFirst Texan Expedition. Hank's careless reference to the treatment hispartner had given Armijo on the streets of Santa Fe caused them to lookcarefully around and then, in low voices, tell the two plainsmen aboutthe events which recently had transpired between the Cimarron and theArkansas.
"Th' greasers in this hyar train air plumb lucky," said one of theTexans, who called himself Jed Burch. "Ain't that so, Buck?"
Buck Flint nodded sourly. "They kin thank them d----d dragoons o' yourn,friend," he answered.
"How's that?" asked Tom. "An' what about th' fight we saw signs of, acouple o' days back?"
"It's all part of a long story," replied Jed, gloomily. "Reckon ye mightas well have th' hull of it, so ye'll know what's up, out hyar." Helooked around cautiously. "Don't want no d----d greasers larnin' it,though. Who air these fellers comin' now?"
"Good friends o' ourn," said Hank. "Couple o' hunters that hang out,most o' th' time, at Bent's Fort."
Jim and Zeb arrived, were introduced and vouched for, and the littlecircle sat bunched together as the strangers explained some recenthistory.
"Ye see, boys," began Burch, "us Texans air pizen ag'in greasers,'specially since Armijo treated McLeod's boys wuss nor dogs. So a passelo' us got together this spring an' come up hyar ter git in a crack theywouldn't fergit. Me an' Buck, hyar, was with th' first crowd, underWarfield, an' we larned 'em a lesson up on th' Mora. Thar warn't more'na score of us, an' we raided that village, nigh under th' nose o' SanterFe, killed some o' th' greasers, didn't lose a man, an' run off everyhoss they had, ter keep 'em from follerin' us. But we got careless an'one night th' danged greasers an' settlement Injuns come up ter us an'stampeded all thar own hosses an' ourn, too, an' didn't give us a lickat 'em. That put us afoot with all our stuff. Thar warn't nothin' wecould do, then, but burn our saddles an' what we couldn't carry, an'hoof it straight fer Bent's. We was on U.S. soil thar, so Warfielddisbanded us an' turned us loose; but we knowed whar ter go, an' wewent.
"Colonel Snively war ter be at a sartin place on th' Arkansas, an' hewar thar. We jined up with him an' went along this hyar trail, larnin'that Armijo war a-lookin' fer us somewhar on it. Hell! He warn'ta-lookin' fer us: he had a powerful advance guard out feelin' th' way,but _he_ warn't with it. We come up ter that party and cleaned it up,nobody on our side gittin' more'n a scratch. But we couldn't git no newsabout th' caravan that war due ter come along 'most any day, an' some o'th' boys got discouraged an' went home. Th' rest o' us went back ter th'Arkansas, campin' half a day's ride below th' Caches, whar we could keepour eyes on th' old crossin' an' th' main trail at th' same time. An' wehadn't been thar very long afore 'long comes th' caravan, full o'greasers. But, hell: it war guarded by a couple hundred dragoons underyer Captain Cook which kept us from hittin' it till it got acrost th'river an' past th' sand-hills, whar U.S. troops dassn't go, seein' it'sTexas soil.
"Everythin' would 'a' been all right if Snively hadn't got polite an'went over ter visit Cook. They had a red-hot palaver, Cook sayin' hewarn't goin' ter escort a caravan till it was plumb inter danger an'then stand by an' let it go on ter git wiped out. Snively told him wewarn't aimin' ter wipe it out, but only ter get th' greasers with it.They had it powerful hard, I heard, an' Cook up an' says he's goin' tertake our guns away from us if it cost him every man he had. Danged if hedidn't do it, too!"
Flint was laughing heartily and broke in. "Wonder what he thought o' ourweapons?" he exulted. "Not one o' 'em that he got from _our_ bunch warworth a dang."
Burch grinned in turn. "Ye see, we had took th' guns belongin' terArmijo's scoutin' party, an' when Cook took up his collection, a lot o'th' boys, hidin' thar own good weapons, sorrerfully hands over th'danged _escopetas_ an' blunderbusses an' bows an' arrers o' th'greasers. However, he disarmed us an' kept us thar till th' caravan gotsuch a big start thar warn't no earthly use o' goin' after it, thar notbein' more'n sixty or seventy o' us that had good weapons. Some o' th'boys struck out fer home, an' a couple o' score went with th' dragoonsback ter Missouri. Us that war left, about as many as went home, madeWarfield captain ag'in an' went after th' danged caravan, anyhow. Wefollered it near ter Point o' Rocks before we gave it up. Nobodyreckoned thar war two caravans on th' trail this year, so Warfield an'most o' th' boys went back ter Texas; but thar's considerable few o' usroamin' 'round up hyar, dodgin' th' Comanches on a gamble o' gittin' ina crack at some o' Armijo's sojers that might come scoutin' 'round tersee if we has all went back. Anyhow, bein' so fur from home, an'hankerin' fer a little huntin', we figgered that we might stay up hyartill fall, or mebby all winter if we hung out at Bent's."
"We made a big mistake, though," confessed Flint. "Ye see, a greasermust 'a' got away from that fight an' took th' news ter Armijo. When wepassed Cold Spring, follerin' th' caravan, we come on his camp, an' itwar plumb covered with ridin' gear an' belongin's that none o' his bravearmy had time ter collect proper. Some o' us that had ter burn oursaddles war ridin' bareback, but we got saddles thar. He must 'a' litout _pronto_ when he larned Texans war a-rampagin' along th' trail. Fromth' signs he didn't even wait fer th' caravan he war goin' ter protect,but jest went a-kiyotin' fer home."
"He knew th' difference between starved an' betrayed Texans, an' Texansthat war fixed ter fight," growled Tom. "Go on: what was th' mistake?"
"Wall, Warfield said that if we had made that vanguard surrenderpeaceful, which they would 'a' done, we could 'a' captured every man,kept th' news from Armijo, an' larned jest whar ter find him. He would'a' been waitin' fer his scoutin' party, an' some mornin' about daylighthe would 'a' found a scoutin' party--from Texas, an' mad an' mean asrattlers. It don't allus pay ter let yer te
mpers git th' best o' ye, an'make ye jump afore ye look. We'd 'a' ruther got Armijo than th' wholecussed advance guard, an' th' rest o' his army, too."
"With Salezar," muttered Tom.
Burch jumped. "Aye!" he snarled. "With Salezar! Fer them two I'd 'a'been in favor o' lettin' all th' rest go!"
"What you boys goin' ter do now?" asked Hank.
"Fool 'round up hyar, dodgin' war-parties that air too big ter lick,"answered Flint. "We been scoutin' up th' river, an' our friends air on ascout back in th' hills, tryin' ter locate th' nearest Comanche village.We cleaned out one on th' way up, back on th' Washita. We're aimin' terrun a big buffaler hunt as soon as we locates th' hostiles."
"How many are there of you?" asked Tom, thoughtfully.
"'Bout a dozen or fifteen: why?" asked Burch.
"Not a very big party to be playin' tag with th' Comanches in thar owncountry," Tom replied.
With his foot Burch pushed a stick back into the fire and then glancedaround the little circle. "Wonder what th' _white_ men o' this wagontrain would do if we rode up an' asked fer th' greasers in it ter beturned over ter us?" he asked.
Tom smiled. "Fight as long as we could pull trigger," he answered. "Weain't betrayin' no members o' th' caravan. Lord knows we don't likegreasers, an' we _do_ feel strong for Texas; but we'd be plain skunks ifwe didn't stick with our feller travelers."
"An' what could we say when we got inter Santer Fe, if we dared gothar?" asked Hank.
Burch nodded, shrugged his shoulders, and changed the subject to that ofthe unfortunate First Texan Expedition and the terrible sufferings itunderwent, a subject at that time very prominent in all Texan hearts. Itdid not take them long to judge accurately the real feelings of theirhosts and to learn that their sympathies were all for Texas; but evenwith this knowledge they did not again refer to anything connected withtheir presence along the trail; instead, they were careful to create theimpression that their little party intended to start almost immediatelynorthwest across the Cimarron desert for Bent's Fort, and from there toscour the plains for buffalo skins. They even asked about the BayouSalade and its contiguous mountain "parks" as a place to hunt and trapduring the coming winter. After dark they said their good-byes and leftthe encampment, to the vast relief of the Mexicans with the train. Andthat night and the next, the Mexicans who chanced to be on watch werethe most alert of all the guards.
After their guests had gone the four friends sat in silence for awhile,reviewing what they had learned, and then Hank spoke up.
"Reckon we better tell Woodson that thar won't be no greaser troopswaitin' fer us this trip?" he asked.
Tom was about to nod, but changed his mind and quickly placed his handon his partner's shoulder. "No," he said slowly. "I'm beginnin' ter seethrough th' holes in th' ladder! Not a word, boys, ter _anybody_!Pedro's lie about thar bein' no guard ter meet us this year ain't a lieno more; but he don't know it, an' he ain't goin' ter know it! Meantime,we'll keep our ears an' eyes open, an' be ready ter jump like cats. Igot a suspicion!"
"I got a bran' new one," chuckled Hank. "Hurrah for Texas!"