CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
DACOMA.
We all now hurried forward to the spring, and, dismounting, turned ourhorses' heads to the water, leaving them to drink at will. We had nofear of their running away.
Our own thirst required slaking as much as theirs; and, crowding intothe branch, we poured the cold water down our throats in cupfuls. Wefelt as though we should never be surfeited; but another appetite,equally strong, lured us away from the spring; and we ran over thecamp-ground in search of the means to gratify it. We scattered thecoyotes and white wolves with our shouts, and drove them with missilesfrom the ground.
We were about stooping to pick up the dust-covered morsels, when astrange exclamation from one of the hunters caused us to look hastilyround.
"Malaray, camarados; mira el arco!"
The Mexican who uttered these words stood pointing to an object that layupon the ground at his feet. We ran up to ascertain what it was.
"Caspita!" again ejaculated the man. "It is a white bow!"
"A white bow, by gosh!" echoed Garey.
"A white bow!" shouted several others, eyeing the object with looks ofastonishment and alarm.
"That belonged to a big warrior, I'll sartify," said Garey.
"Ay," added another, "an' one that'll ride back for it as soon as--holies! look yonder! he's coming by--!"
Our eyes rolled over the prairie together, eastward, as the speakerpointed. An object was just visible low down on the horizon, like amoving blazing star. It was not that. At a glance we all knew what itwas. It was a helmet, flashing under the sunbeam, as it rose and fellto the measured gallop of a horse.
"To the willows, men! to the willows!" shouted Seguin. "Drop the bow!Leave it where it was. To your horses! Lead them! Crouch! crouch!"
We all ran to our horses, and, seizing the bridles, half-led,half-dragged them within the willow thicket. We leaped into oursaddles, so as to be ready for any emergency, and sat peering throughthe leaves that screened us.
"Shall we fire as he comes up, captain?" asked one of the men.
"No."
"We kin take him nicely, just as he stoops for the bow."
"No; not for your lives!"
"What then, captain?"
"Let him take it, and go," was Seguin's reply.
"Why, captain? what's that for?"
"Fools! do you not see that the whole tribe would be back upon our trailbefore midnight? Are you mad? Let him go. He may not notice ourtracks, as our horses are not shod. If so, let him go as he came, Itell you."
"But how, captain, if he squints yonder-away?"
Garey, as he said this, pointed to the rocks at the foot of themountain.
"Sac-r-r-re! the Digger!" exclaimed Seguin, his countenance changingexpression.
The body lay on a conspicuous point, on its face, the crimson skullturned upward and outward, so that it could hardly fail to attract theeye of anyone coming in from the plain. Several coyotes had alreadyclimbed up on the slab where it lay, and were smelling around it,seemingly not caring to touch the hideous morsel.
"He's bound to see it, captain," added the hunter.
"If so, we must take him with the lance, the lasso, or alive. No gunmust be fired. They might still hear it, and would be on us before wecould get round the mountain. No! sling your guns! Let those who havelances and lassoes get them in readiness."
"When would you have us make the dash, captain?"
"Leave that to me. Perhaps he may dismount for the bow; or, if not, hemay ride into the spring to water his horse, then we can surround him.If he see the Digger's body, he may pass up to examine it more closely.In that case we can intercept him without difficulty. Be patient! Ishall give you the signal."
During all this time, the Navajo was coming up at a regular gallop. Asthe dialogue ended, he had got within about three hundred yards of thespring, and still pressed forward without slackening his pace. We keptour gaze fixed upon him in breathless silence, eyeing both man andhorse.
It was a splendid sight. The horse was a large, coal-black mustang,with fiery eyes and red, open nostrils. He was foaming at the mouth,and the white flakes had clouted his throat, counter, and shoulders. Hewas wet all over, and glittered as he moved with the play of his proudflanks. The rider was naked from the waist up, excepting his helmet andplumes, and some ornaments that glistened on his neck, bosom and wrists.A tunic-like skirt, bright and embroidered, covered his hips andthighs. Below the knee his legs were naked, ending in a buskinedmoccasin, that fitted tightly round the ankle. Unlike the Apaches,there was no paint upon his body, and his bronze complexion shone withthe hue of health. His features were noble and warlike, his eye boldand piercing, and his long black hair swept away behind him, minglingwith the tail of his horse. He rode upon a Spanish saddle with hislance poised on the stirrup, and resting lightly against his right arm.His left was thrust through the strap of a white shield, and a quiverwith its feathered shafts peeped over his shoulder.
His bow was before him.
It was a splendid sight, both horse and rider, as they rose togetherover the green swells of the prairie; a picture more like that of someHomeric hero than a savage of the wild west.
"Wagh!" exclaimed one of the hunters in an undertone; "how they glitter!Look at that 'ar headpiece! It's fairly a-blazin'!"
"Ay," rejoined Garey, "we may thank the piece o' brass. We'd have beenin as ugly a fix as he's in now if we hadn't sighted it in time. What!"continued the trapper, his voice rising into earnestness; "Dacoma, bythe Etarnal! The second chief of the Navajoes!"
I turned toward Seguin to witness the effect of this announcement. TheMaricopa was leaning over to him, muttering some words in an unknowntongue, and gesticulating with energy. I recognised the name "Dacoma,"and there was an expression of fierce hatred in the chief's countenanceas he pointed to the advancing horseman.
"Well, then," answered Seguin, apparently assenting to the wishes of theother, "he shall not escape, whether he sees it or no. But do not useyour gun; they are not ten miles off, yonder behind the swell. We caneasily surround him. If not, I can overtake him on this horse, andhere's another."
As Seguin uttered the last speech he pointed to Moro. "Silence!" hecontinued, lowering his voice. "Hish-sh!"
The silence became death-like. Each man sat pressing his horse with hisknees, as if thus to hold him at rest.
The Navajo had now reached the border of the deserted camp; andinclining to the left, he galloped down the line, scattering the wolvesas he went. He sat leaning to one side, his gaze searching the ground.When nearly opposite to our ambush, he descried the object of hissearch, and sliding his feet out of the stirrup, guided his horse so asto shave closely past it. Then, without reining in, or even slackinghis pace, he bent over until his plume swept the earth, and picking upthe bow, swung himself back into the saddle.
"Beautiful!" exclaimed the bull-fighter.
"By gosh! it's a pity to kill him," muttered a hunter; and a low murmurof admiration was heard among the men.
After a few more springs, the Indian suddenly wheeled, and was about togallop back, when his eye was caught by the ensanguined object upon therock. He reined in with a jerk, until the hips of his horse almostrested upon the prairie, and sat gazing upon the body with a look ofsurprise.
"Beautiful!" again exclaimed Sanchez; "carambo, beautiful!"
It was, in effect, as fine a picture as ever the eye looked upon. Thehorse with his tail scattered upon the ground, with crest erect andbreathing nostril, quivering under the impulse of his masterly rider;the rider himself, with his glancing helmet and waving plumes, hisbronze complexion, his firm and graceful seat, and his eye fixed in thegaze of wonder.
It was, as Sanchez had said, a beautiful picture--a living statue; andall of us were filled with admiration as we looked upon it. Not one ofthe party, with perhaps an exception, should have liked to fire the shotthat would have tumbled it from its pedestal.
H
orse and man remained in this attitude for some moments. Then theexpression of the rider's countenance suddenly changed. His eyewandered with an inquiring and somewhat terrified look. It rested uponthe water, still muddy with the trampling of our horses.
One glance was sufficient; and, with a quick, strong jerk upon thebridle, the savage horseman wheeled, and struck out for the prairie.
Our charging signal had been given at the same instant; and springingforward, we shot out of the copse-wood in a body.
We had to cross the rivulet. Seguin was some paces in advance as werode forward to it. I saw his horse suddenly baulk, stumble over thebank, and roll headlong into the water!
The rest of us went splashing through. I did not stop to look back. Iknew that now the taking of the Indian was life or death to all of us;and I struck my spur deeply, and strained forward in the pursuit.
For some time we all rode together in a dense clump. When fairly out onthe plain, we saw the Indian ahead of us about a dozen lengths of hishorse, and one and all felt with dismay that he was keeping hisdistance, if not actually increasing it.
We had forgotten the condition of our animals. They were faint withhunger, and stiff from standing so long in the ravine. Moreover, theyhad just drunk to a surfeit.
I soon found that I was forging ahead of my companions. The superiorswiftness of Moro gave me the advantage. El Sol was still before me. Isaw him circling his lasso; I saw him launch it, and suddenly jerk up; Isaw the loop sliding over the hips of the flying mustang. He had missedhis aim.
He was recoiling the rope as I shot past him, and I noticed his look ofchagrin and disappointment.
My Arab had now warmed to the chase, and I was soon far ahead of mycomrades. I perceived, too, that I was closing upon the Navajo. Everyspring brought me nearer, until there were not a dozen lengths betweenus.
I knew not how to act. I held my rifle in my hands, and could have shotthe Indian in the back; but I remembered the injunction of Seguin, andwe were now closer to the enemy than ever. I did not know but that wemight be in sight of them. I dared not fire.
I was still undecided whether to use my knife or endeavour to unhorsethe Indian with my clubbed rifle, when he glanced over his shoulder andsaw that I was alone.
Suddenly he wheeled, and throwing his lance to a charge, came gallopingback. His horse seemed to work without the rein, obedient to his voiceand the touch of his knees.
I had just time to throw up my rifle and parry the charge, which was aright point. I did not parry it successfully. The blade grazed my arm,tearing my flesh. The barrel of my rifle caught in the sling of thelance, and the piece was whipped out of my hands.
The wound, the shock, and the loss of my weapon, had discomposed me inthe manage of my horse, and it was some time before I could gain thebridle to turn him. My antagonist had wheeled sooner, as I knew by the"hist" of an arrow that scattered the curls over my right ear. As Ifaced him again, another was on the string, and the next moment it wassticking through my left arm.
I was now angry; and, drawing a pistol from the holster, I cocked it,and galloped forward. I knew it was the only chance for my life.
The Indian, at the same time, dropped his bow, and, bringing his lanceto the charge, spurred on to meet me. I was determined not to fireuntil near and sure of hitting.
We closed at full gallop. Our horses almost touched. I levelled andpulled trigger. The cap snapped upon my pistol!
The lance-blade glittered in my eyes; its point was at my breast.Something struck me sharply in the face. It was the ring-loop of alasso. I saw it settle over the shoulders of the Indian, falling to hiselbows. It tightened as it fell. There was a wild yell, a quick jerkof my antagonist's body, the lance flew from his hands, and the nextmoment he was plucked out of his saddle, and lying helpless upon theprairie.
His horse met mine with a concussion that sent both of them to theearth. We rolled and scrambled about, and rose again.
When I came to my feet, El Sol was standing over the Navajo, with hisknife drawn, and his lasso looped around the arms of his captive.
"The horse! the horse! secure the horse!" shouted Seguin, as he gallopedup; and the crowd dashed past me in pursuit of the mustang, which, withtrailing bridle, was scouring over the prairie.
In a few minutes the animal was lassoed, and led back to the spot sonear being made sacred with my grave.