CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
THE MOUNTAIN OF GOLD.
After so fatiguing a march, it was necessary to make a longer halt thanusual. We stayed by the arroyo all that day and the following night.But the hunters longed to drink from the Prieto itself; and the nextmorning we drew our pickets, and rode in the direction of that river.By noon we were upon its banks.
A singular stream it was, running through a region of bleak, barren, anddesolate mountains. Through these the stream had forged its way bynumerous canons, and rushed along a channel at most places inaccessible.It was a black and gloomy river. Where were its sands of gold?
After riding for some distance along its banks, we halted at a pointwhere its bed could be reached. The hunters, disregarding all else,clambered eagerly over the steep bluffs, and descended to the water.They hardly stayed to drink. They crawled through narrow interstices,between detached masses of rock that had fallen from above. They liftedthe mud in their hands, and washed it in their cups; they hammered thequartz rock with their tomahawks, and pounded it between great stones.Not a particle of the precious metal could be found. They must eitherhave struck the river too high up, or else the El Dorado lay stillfarther to the north.
Wet, weary, angry, uttering oaths and expressions of disappointment,they obeyed the signal to march forward.
We rode up the stream, halting for the night at another place where thewater was accessible to our animals.
Here the hunters again searched for gold, and again found it not.Mutinous murmurs were now spoken aloud. "The gold country lay belowthem; they had no doubt of it. The chief took them by the San Carlos onpurpose to disappoint them. He knew this would prevent delay. He carednot for them. His own ends were all he wanted to accomplish. Theymight go back as poor as they had come, for aught he cared. They wouldnever have so good a chance again."
Such were their mutterings, embellished with many an oath.
Seguin either heard not or did not heed them. He was one of thosecharacters who can patiently bear until a proper cue for action mayoffer itself. He was fiery by nature, like all Creoles; but time andtrials had tempered him to that calmness and coolness that befitted theleader of such a band. When roused to action, he became what is styledin western phraseology a "dangerous man"; and the scalp-hunters knew it.He heeded not their murmurings.
Long before daybreak, we were once more in our saddles, and movingonward, still up the Prieto. We had observed fires at a distance duringthe night, and we knew that they were at the villages of the "Club"Apache. We wished to pass their country without being seen; and it wasour intention, when daylight appeared, to "cacher" among the rocks untilthe following night.
As dawn advanced, we halted in a concealed ravine, whilst several of usclimbed the hill to reconnoitre. We could see the smoke rising over thedistant villages; but we had passed them in the darkness, and instead ofremaining in cache, we continued on through a wide plain covered withsage and cactus plants. Mountains towered up on every side of us as weadvanced. They rose directly from the plains, exhibiting the fantasticshapes which characterise them in those regions. Their stupendousprecipices overlooked the bleak, barren tables frowning upon them insublime silence. The plains themselves ran into the very bases ofthese, cliffs. Water had surely washed them. These plateaux had oncebeen the bed of an ancient ocean. I remembered Seguin's theory of theinland seas.
Shortly after sunrise, the trail we were following led us to an Indiancrossing. Here we forded the stream with the intention of leaving itand heading eastward.
We halted our horses in the water, permitting them to drink freely.Some of the hunters, moving ahead of the rest, had climbed the highbanks. We were attracted by their unusual exclamations. On lookingupward, we perceived several of them standing on the top of a hill, andpointing to the north in an earnest and excited manner. Could it beIndians?
"What is it?" shouted Seguin, as we pushed forward.
"A gold mountain! a gold mountain!" was the reply.
We spurred our horses hurriedly up the hill. On reaching its top, astrange sight met our gaze. Away to the north, and as far as the eyecould see, an object glistened in the sun. It was a mountain, and alongits sides, from base to summit, the rocks glittered with the brightsemblance of gold! A thousand jets danced in the sunbeams, dazzling theeye as it looked upon them. Was it a mountain of gold?
The men were in a frenzy of delight. This was the mountain so oftendiscussed over the bivouac fires. Who of them had not heard of it,whether credulous or not? It was no fable, then. There it was beforethem, in all its burning splendour.
I turned to look at Seguin. His brow was bent. There was theexpression of anxiety on his countenance. He understood the illusion;so did the Maricopa; so did Reichter. I knew it too. At a glance I hadrecognised the sparkling scales of the selenite.
Seguin saw that there was a difficulty before us. This dazzlinghallucination lay far out of our course; but it was evident that neithercommands nor persuasion would be heeded now. The men were resolved uponreaching it. Some of them had already turned their horses' heads andwere moving in that direction.
Seguin ordered them back. A stormy altercation ensued; in short, amutiny.
In vain Seguin urged the necessity of our hastening forward to the town.In vain he represented the danger we were in of being overtaken byDacoma's party, who by this time were upon our trail. In vain the Cocochief, the doctor, and myself, assured our uneducated companions thatwhat they saw was but the glancing surface of a worthless rock. The menwere obstinate. The sight, operating upon long-cherished hopes, hadintoxicated them. They had lost all reason. They were mad.
"On, then!" cried Seguin, making a desperate effort to restrain hispassion. "On, madmen, and satisfy yourselves--our lives may answer foryour folly!" and, so saying, he turned his horse, and headed him for theshining beacon.
The men rode after, uttering loud and joyful acclamations.
At the end of a long day's ride we reached the base of the mountain.The hunters leaped from their horses, and clambered up to the glitteringrocks. They reached them. They broke them with their tomahawks andpistol-butts, and cleft them with their knives. They tore off theplates of mica and glassy selenite. They flung them at their feet,abashed and mortified; and, one after another, came back to the plainwith looks of disappointment and chagrin. Not one of them said a word,as they climbed into their saddles, and rode sullenly after the chief.
We had lost a day by this bootless journey; but our consolation lay inthe belief that our Indian pursuers, following upon our trail, wouldmake the same detour.
Our course now lay to the south-west; but finding a spring not far fromthe foot of the mountain, we remained by it for the night.
After another day's march in a south-easterly course, Rube recognisedthe profiles of the mountains. We were nearing the great town of theNavajoes.
That night we encamped on a running water, a branch of the Prieto thatheaded to the eastward. A vast chasm between two cliffs marked thecourse of the stream above us. The guide pointed into the gap, as werode forward to our halting-place.
"What is it, Rube?" inquired Seguin.
"'Ee see that gully ahead o' us?"
"Yes; what of it?"
"The town's thur."