CHAPTER FORTY NINE.
A NOVEL MODE OF EQUITATION.
When consciousness returned, I found that I was lying on the ground, andmy dog, the innocent cause of my captivity, was licking my face. Icould not have been long senseless, for the savages were stillgesticulating violently around me. One was waving them back. Irecognised him. It was Dacoma!
The chief uttered a short harangue that seemed to quiet the warriors. Icould not tell what he said, but I heard him use frequently the wordQuetzalcoatl. I knew that this was the name of their god, but I did notunderstand, at the time, what the saving of my life could have to dowith him.
I thought that Dacoma was protecting me from some feeling of pity orgratitude, and I endeavoured to recollect whether I had shown him anyspecial act of kindness during his captivity. I had sadly mistaken themotives of that splendid savage.
My head felt sore. Had they scalped me? With the thought I raised myhand, passing it over my crown. No. My favourite brown curls werestill there; but there was a deep cut along the back of my head--thedent of a tomahawk. I had been struck from behind as I came out, andbefore I could fire a single bullet.
Where was Rube? I raised myself a little and looked around. He was notto be seen anywhere.
Had he escaped, as he intended? No; it would have been impossible forany man, with only a knife, to have fought his way through so many.Moreover, I did not observe any commotion among the savages, as if anenemy had escaped them. None seemed to have gone off from the spot.What then had--? Ha! I now understood, in its proper sense, Rube'sjest about his scalp. It was not a _double-entendre_, but a _mot_ oftriple ambiguity.
The trapper, instead of following me, had remained quietly in his den,where, no doubt, he was at that moment watching me, his scapegoat, andchuckling at his own escape.
The Indians, never dreaming that there were two of us in the cave, andsatisfied that it was now empty, made no further attempts to smoke it.
I was not likely to undeceive them. I knew that Rube's death or capturecould not have benefited me; but I could not help reflecting on thestrange stratagem by which the old fox had saved himself.
I was not allowed much time for reflection. Two of the savages, seizingme by the arms, dragged me up to the still blazing ruin. On, heavens!was it for this Dacoma had saved me from their tomahawks? for this, themost cruel of deaths!
They proceeded to tie me hand and foot. Several others were around,submitting to the same treatment. I recognised Sanchez thebull-fighter, and the red-haired Irishman. There were three others ofthe band, whose names I had never learnt.
We were in an open space in front of the burning ranche. We could seeall that was going on.
The Indians were clearing it of the fallen and charred timbers to get atthe bodies of their friends. I watched their proceeding's with lessinterest, as I now knew that Seguin was not there.
It was a horrid spectacle when the rubbish was cleared away, laying barethe floor of the ruin. More than a dozen bodies lay upon it,half-baked, half-roasted! Their dresses were burned off; but by theparts that remained still intact from the fire, we could easilyrecognise to what party each had belonged. The greater number of themwere Navajoes. There were also the bodies of hunters smoking insidetheir cindery shirts. I thought of Garey; but, as far as I could judge,he was not among them.
There were no scalps for the Indians to take. The fire had been beforethem, and had not left a hair upon the heads of their dead foemen.
Seemingly mortified at this, they lifted the bodies of the hunters, andtossed them once more into the flames that were still blazing up fromthe piled rafters. They gathered the knives, pistols, and tomahawksthat lay among the ashes; and carrying what remained of their own peopleout of the ruin, placed them in front. They then stood around them in acircle, and with loud voices chanted a chorus of vengeance.
During all this proceeding we lay where we had been thrown, guarded by adozen savages. We were filled with fearful apprehensions. We saw thefire still blazing, and we saw that the bodies of our late comrades hadbeen thrown upon it. We dreaded a similar fate for our own.
But we soon found that we were reserved for some other purpose. Sixmules were brought up, and upon these we were mounted in a novelfashion. We were first set astride on the bare backs, with our facesturned tailwards. Our feet were then drawn under the necks of theanimals, where our ankles were closely corded together. We were nextcompelled to bend down our bodies until we lay along the backs of themules, our chins resting on their rumps. In this position our arms weredrawn down until our hands met underneath, where they were tied tightlyby the wrists.
The attitude was painful; and to add to this, our mules, not used to bethus packed, kicked and plunged over the ground, to the great mirth ofour captors.
This cruel sport was kept up even after the mules themselves had gottired of it, by the savages pricking the animals with their spears, andplacing branches of the cactus under their tails. We were fainting whenit ended.
Our captors now divided themselves into two parties, and started up thebarranca, taking opposite sides. One went with the Mexican captives andthe girls and children of the tribe. The larger party, under Dacoma--now head chief, for the other had been killed in the conflict--guardedus.
We were carried up that side on which was the spring, and, arriving atthe water, were halted for the night. We were taken off the mules andsecurely tied to one another, our guard watching us without intermissiontill morning. We were then packed as before and carried westward acrossthe desert.