CHAPTER XVIII
HUNTING A TRAIL
On they went, on and on, till beneath the rugged peak of the Cerro delas Viboras they saw before them a glorious open valley of a thousandacres, facing the southern sun, and green with young grass.
"This is the Valle Lindito," said the cacique, "and there is our horseherd." A band of two or three hundred horses and mares were grazingpeacefully in the valley. It was early yet for foals, but a few here andthere were visible, frisking and capering round their dams.
An Indian stallion nickered proudly at the sight of the strangers, andtrotted towards them, high and disposedly, tossing his crest and holdinghis head aloft; at the sight of him Morgana whinnied back, and lo! froma patch of willow brush leaped forth an Indian youth who was on watch;bareback he came full speed on a flying pony and whirled a lasso roundand round, and chivied the guardian of the herd back to his mates. Thenhe rode up to the four and greeted them, and rapid question and answerensued. The youth was young Ignacio, son to Josefa's elderly would-bebridegroom. No, they had seen no Navajos, nor any tracks of any. Nothinghad troubled the herd except that the mountain lions had killed a foal.The travelling Mexican sheep herds were wandering hither and thitherthrough the mountains, as usual, seeking their appointed stations forthe lambing month ere it began. The Jicarilla Apaches had been throughnot long before and had killed some cattle of the Mexicans--the Indianlaughed as he recounted this--and the Mexicans were very angry, butcould not catch them. He hinted that Mexican beef tasted sweet, andlaughed still more, but the cacique frowned. He did not love theMexicans--far from it--but his policy was to keep on good terms withthem. He repeated his questions about the Navajos.
The rest of the Indian herders came up, and now came news. Yes, they hadseen tracks of a travelling party which they supposed to be Indians.Eleven ponies there were altogether, going north-westward from the Mesadel Verendo. No, they had seen no one to speak of, and they had seen notracks of any party of Mexicans in pursuit. They were astonished whenthey heard the tale of the abduction of Manuelita, but they had heard ofthe killing of the Navajo by Don Andres from the shepherds of a flock ofthe Preas, which they had met in the Valle Cajon. As for the tracks theyhad seen that morning, they might be those of Mahletonkwa and his band,or they might have been made by some other Navajos or by Jicarillas."_Quien sabe?_" But they told the cacique exactly where he would findthem next day and then he could judge for himself.
Three fresh horses were now selected and caught. The cacique's horse andStephens's mule were now turned loose in the Indian herd, where the mulebrayed frantically for his beloved Morgana. A hasty meal was eaten, andwith young Ignacio added to their party they set forward once more intothe wilderness.
Ere the sun was an hour high next morning the cacique and Miguel andyoung Ignacio were critically examining the eleven ponies' tracks, andtrying to make out whether they were those of Mahletonkwa's band or no.
"Almost certainly, yes," was the verdict, and they followed at oncehotly on the trail. The fact that they were exactly eleven in numbermade the probability very great, and the absence of any other latertracks made it certain that if they had really hit it off they must havecut the trail in front of the Mexicans.
The cacique crowed triumphantly.
"Did I not tell you, Sooshiuamo, that the Navajos would throw theMexicans off the scent on the Mesa del Verendo. You may be very surethat is what has happened. They all scattered out there on the hardground, and then they turned their course from west to north, and thenmet again by agreement miles away, and not on the mesa at all, but downbelow here. The Mexicans will have wasted half the day yesterday intrying to follow their tracks on the Mesa del Verendo, and I expect theyare at it yet; while we, you see, who started hours after them, have cutthe trail far ahead. Did I not tell you we were great trailers,Sooshiuamo?"
Sooshiuamo could not help thinking that the success of which the caciquewas so proud was a good deal due to the information that had been giventhem, but he wisely did not say so. And at any rate the cacique wasentitled to the credit of having guessed rightly the route Mahletonkwawould take, and having steered on his own authority a judicious courseto intercept it. They had left the high upland pastures now, and thesierra lay behind them; they were heading into a rolling country of drygrama grass and cedar- and pinon-trees, a warmer country than themountains, but not so well watered. Away to the south-west was visible alofty conical peak standing by itself; it was an extinct volcano.Presently the trail of the eleven ponies turned towards the conicalpeak.
"I knew it," cried the cacique triumphantly again, "I knew how it wouldbe. The Lava Beds are yonder, and the Navajos are going for them; theyhave been making a big circuit to throw the Mexicans off the track, butnow they have turned for the Beds again. They meant to go there allalong. Oh, didn't I know it? Eh, Sooshiuamo?"
Sooshiuamo readily admitted the accuracy with which the Pueblo hadgrasped the intentions of the Navajos, and praised his skill. Presentlythey came to a place where the party they were pursuing had halted for arest and a meal, and here the question as to who they were was decidedbeyond all doubt. Among the many moccasin-tracks which ran all about thelittle fire they had made, the keen eyes of the Indians detected theprint of a shoe with a heel, the small, dainty shoe of a civilisedwoman.
"Look," said Miguel, who found it first, pointing it out to Stephens,who, keen-sighted though he was, barely distinguished it in the dry,sandy soil, "there is the foot of the senorita. Look how she is tiredand stiff with riding, and walks with little steps. And here is whereshe lay down on a blanket to rest. Oh, she will be very tired."
Literally, these Indians seemed able to tell every single thing she haddone in that camp during the half-hour or hour that had probably beenspent there. It was a camp made late in the afternoon of the daybefore, so they settled. "Just when we were at the horse herd in theValle Lindito," said the cacique, who seemed to read the signs left bythe different members of the band and by their horses with as much easeand confidence as Stephens would have shown in gathering the meaning ofa page of a printed book by glancing his eyes over the hundreds oflittle black crooked marks on the page, known to civilised beings asletters. But in the art of reading signs the cacique was a past master,where Stephens, to follow up the simile, had but just mastered thealphabet and was struggling with words of one syllable.
Forward once more on the trail, with the increased ardour given by thecertainty that now there could be no mistake. As they drew near the LavaBeds, and the shades of evening began to fall, the cacique grew anxious.
"The Tinne,"--Tinne was the Navajos' own name for themselves, and thecacique now began to use it regularly in speaking of them, feelinghimself, as it were, on their ground,--"the Tinne," he said, "are sureto keep a close watch on the edge of the Beds where their trail goes in,so as to see who is following them. Let us turn off their trail here andgo aside; there is a spring at the edge of the Beds a little north ofhere; we will camp there for the night, we can do nothing in the Beds inthe dark; also if the Mexicans have found the trail again, as they oughtto have done by this time, they may follow it part of the night bymoonlight and be able to overtake us here. It would be well to have themhere before we go into the Beds. Don't you think so, Sooshiuamo?"
Stephens had to agree. It grated on him terribly to leave Manuelita fora second night in the hands of Mahletonkwa and his band, but it wasmore than doubtful whether they could possibly find where they had herconcealed in the gathering darkness, and there was a good chance ofbeing in a better position to deal with the matter in the morning.
It was already night when the cacique skilfully and cautiously led themto the little spring he knew of near the Beds; they watered their horseshere, and drank, too, themselves, and camped under a cedar bush not faraway, without a fire lest the light should betray them. They chewedtheir tough, dried meat, and ate a little parched corn, and kept watchby turns in the moonlight over their horses during the first half of thenight. But nothing disturbed the
m, and Faro gave no sign of suspectingan enemy at hand when Stephens scouted round with him before moonset,and after that they slept securely.
He was awakened after dawn by the cacique. Miguel had already scoutedsome way on their back trail; there was no sign of the Mexicans comingup; and the cacique now made a somewhat alarming suggestion. Supposethat the Mexicans had not lost the trail on the Mesa del Verendo, as hehad conjectured, but had caught the Tinne there and been unlucky enoughto be beaten off by them in a fight. It was a contingency that had notoccurred to Stephens before, and redoubled his anxiety.
The cacique, as usual, had a plan. He declined, with their small party,to follow the Navajos' trail straight into the Lava Beds. They would besure to walk into a trap, and if there had been a fight, and the Tinneblood was up, they would be shot down mercilessly from an ambush. Hefelt sure the Navajos had established themselves on a little oasis therewas in the middle of the Beds, where there was grass for their horses;and he proposed to enter the Beds more to the north, where he knew of apracticable place for horses to go in, and so work round to the oasis onthe farther side.
This seemed so reasonable that Stephens saw nothing for it but toaccede, and accordingly, after watering their stock, they at onceproceeded to put it in action.
The Lava Beds were an awful country for horses. From the old volcano animmense mass of lava had flowed over all this part of the country, likea broad river, twenty or thirty feet deep and miles in width. It was amass of perfectly naked rock, and was incredibly cracked and fissured.The change to it from the open country was instant and abrupt. You couldgallop over rolling pasture-lands right to the edge of the Beds, whereyou must dismount and advance on foot, stepping warily from rock torock, and choosing carefully a route that it was possible for asure-footed horse to pick his way over.
After a tedious and toilsome progress of this sort, they came at last toa little opening, a sort of island, as it were, in the lava flow, onlythat it was lower, most of it, than the actual surface of the flow. Herewas a patch of grass, and the cacique suggested that Stephens shouldremain here with the horses while he and his young men scouted on footin the direction of the larger opening, or oasis, where he suspectedthat the Navajos had established themselves.
Stephens was very unwilling to stay behind, but he had to admit that thescouts would probably get on better without him. Accordingly heconsented, and stretched himself on his blanket on the ground, holdingthe end of the mare's lariat in his hand, while the Indians, drawingtheir belts tighter and grasping their guns, started off in the newdirection indicated by the cacique.
Long he lay there waiting; an eagle-hawk, attracted by the sight of thehorses, swung lazily through the blue sky overhead, and seeing nothingthere to interest him sailed off majestically to a richer hunting-groundbeyond the barren lava flow. Many thoughts coursed through the mind ofthe impatient man. He was disappointed that the Mexicans had not comeup, and he was impressed by the intense watchfulness and seriousness ofthe cacique. The Pueblo chief clearly felt himself now in enemies'country, and knew that they were face to face with the chances of adesperate struggle. Any mistake now might land them instantly in afight, with the odds more than two to one against them; to say nothingof the additional peril this would bring upon Manuelita. Yet somethingmust be done for her, and that without delay. Stephens could not endurethe thought of leaving her another day and night in the power of thosesavages. He had been partly reassured by the cacique's account of thesuperstitious influence of Whailahay in protecting women, but still--thepossibilities that presented themselves to his mind were too awful. No,come what would, whether the Mexican party arrived in time or not, whenhe found the Navajos something should be done. And then his eye lit onthe figure of the cacique bounding from block to block of the Lava Beds,and coming towards him with manifest excitement in his air.
The Navajos were found.
"We've caught up with them at last," said the Pueblo chief in an excitedhalf-whisper. "All the Tinne are camped in a hollow just beyond there,"and he pointed eagerly to a rise in the lava bed that bounded their viewto the immediate front.
"And the girl?" queried the American hoarsely. "Is she there too? Haveany of you seen her?"
"Oh, she's sure to be there," said the cacique. "She can't fail to bethere. No, we didn't any of us positively set eyes on her, but Miguel,who got into the best position to spy on them, was able to count theirhorses; the whole lot of them, all the eleven, are there in the'abra,'--the opening or oasis in the Lava Beds,--so of course she mustbe there."
"True," answered Stephens somewhat doubtfully. "That is, I suppose, youargue that if the horses are there she must be so, too; because if theyhad taken her elsewhere they'd have had to take a horse to carry her.But," he added, "as Miguel even didn't actually see her, might she notperhaps have escaped on foot?"
The Indian gave a smothered laugh of derision. "She escape?" he said;"escape from the Tinne! Never. No captive ever escapes. Too wellwatched."
Miguel himself, with Alejandro and young Ignacio, now came up and joinedthem, and Stephens closely examined them as to what they had seen. Theyconfirmed unanimously the conclusions that the cacique had arrived at.Manuelita was certainly there. Whether the Navajos were aware of theirpresence or not, was, however, uncertain. All they could say was thatthey had been most careful not to give the Tinne a chance by exposingthemselves to view, and that therefore the probability was that theywere still in ignorance. But they might have spotted the Pueblos inspite of all their care, and be simply lying low in order to entrapthem.
"What's the best move now?" said Stephens.
"It will be better if we return back some way," said the cacique. "TheMexican party may come up to-day, and then we can join forces with them.But if the Mexicans don't come, then, when night falls, we must goforward again on foot and creep up close to their camp and see if we geta chance to do anything. If they haven't seen us, maybe we might get achance to steal her away from them."
"But if they have seen us?" said Stephens.
"Then," returned the cacique, "they are going to try to creep on uscertainly, perhaps kill us, perhaps in the dark steal our horses; theTinne men are wonderful clever horse-thieves."
Stephens meditated. By the Indian scouts' account it seemed to be aboutan even chance whether the Navajos had discovered them or not. But,according to his view of the matter, if they had, all idea of keepingconcealed from them any longer was ridiculous; and their wide-awakeenemies would be free to attack them if they chose, or else to decamp inthe night, taking their prisoner with them, and very possibly takingtheir pursuers' horses as well. Here, to his mind, was a strong argumentagainst waiting.
True, there was the other side of the question to be considered:supposing that the Navajos had not detected their presence, it was notimpossible that his Pueblo friends, if their pluck was equal to theirundeniable skill, might haply be successful in effecting the girl'srelease by some stratagem. But, after all, it was only a chance, and aslim chance at that, he thought; and, moreover, there was one pointabout this latter scheme which he found it hard to digest--he wouldhimself assuredly be asked to stay behind again. He was perfectly wellaware by this time that if they wanted to creep on the Navajo camp forthe purpose of rescuing the girl by stealth, his Indian friends wouldnot want to have him accompany them, on the ground that as a white manhe was unable to move about with the silent, snake-like litheness of aredskin. And they would be right, from their point of view; so much hecould not refuse to admit to himself in his secret heart; he could notbut recognise his inferiority in this qualification, knowing as he didthe red men's great gifts. But from his own point of view this would notdo at all. The simple fact was that he did not trust their resolutionunless he himself were actually with them to keep them up to the mark.They had just made one reconnaissance by themselves, leaving him behind,and it struck him that they had not pushed it very vigorously. One ofthem, Miguel, had advanced far enough to be able to count the Navajoponies. That really was all the
information they had brought back.
Now suppose they were to start out again to-night, by themselves, afterher; and suppose they failed to get her out of the Indian camp, while hehad remained at the rear and never even made so much as one try at itpersonally himself; why, he would feel bitter humiliation all his lifelong in consequence, and the unhappy girl would be dragged away tosuffer fresh miseries in a new hiding-place. That was what really galledhim. That they would kill her he did not now think, because he wasconvinced that the cacique was right in saying that what they were afterwas Don Nepomuceno's money. But that she was safe from violence in theirhands he was far less certain. Whailahay's supernatural influence mightnot prove to be the safeguard the cacique had represented it to be; andin that case her lot might be, nay, surely would be, that of themiserable victim of the Sioux. This waiting was becoming detestable. Onesolution presented itself with overwhelming urgency to his mind, asolution which imperiously closed these dull debates and tedious,hesitating delays. There was one phrase of General Grant's--Grant was anOhio man like himself, and his ideal hero,--it occurred in a summonsthat Grant once sent to an enemy to surrender, and it ran, "I propose tomove immediately upon your works." That was the right sort of talk. Thatwas the sort of thing he would like to say to the Navajos, and, as theywouldn't surrender, then do as Grant would have done, "advanceimmediately." Yes, he would propose an immediate advance to his fourPueblo companions; if they rejected his proposal then he would take hisown line.
"Look here, Cacique," he said firmly, "we've had enough of this creepingand crawling around. Let's wade right in. Come on. You stick by me, andwe'll go right at them, and we'll lick spots out of 'em." His eyesflashed, and his powerful frame seemed to dilate and grow as the fire ofbattle kindled in him. The Pueblo chief smiled on him as one might on animpatient child.
"No sense in that talk," he said with calm superiority. "Don't you see?they're eleven and we're five; as soon as you begin to shoot, they'llkill that girl quick, so that all of them may be free to fight us. ThenI think they'll kill us, too. They're too many"; and he counted thewhole eleven over on his fingers, and shook his head impressively andominously.
"They'll not kill her," said Stephens, "she's worth too much to them.And as for their killing us--well, two can play at that game." He pattedthe Winchester fondly as he spoke. "Come on, Cacique, and show yourselfa man. Five brave men can lick a dozen cowards any day. Buck up,Cacique. Why, you told me that you yourself with only one pard killedseven Navajos by catching them off their guard. Suppose now that thesechaps haven't seen us, why shouldn't we do as well?"
"Ah," said the other, "but these Navajos are well posted in theirstronghold. My partner and I caught ours in a trap. But if we wait maybewe might get the chance to catch these ones in a trap, too."
The American argued the point a little longer, with no effect, however,for the cacique's prudent decision remained immovable. But Stephens hadhardened his heart to the sticking-point, and he refused to wait. Hewould go forward alone. He drew a deep breath as he turned his eyes fromthe black Lava Beds around, and looked at the distant hills, dotted overwith dark pinon, shining in the sunlight far away, and then up at thegreat overarching vault of blue above. Death had no morbid attractionfor him; he was a lover of life, and the air of heaven tasted good as hedrew it in. But he wanted no life that was disgraced in the sight of hisown soul. He had come out to rescue this girl, and he would do it ordie. These red men shilly-shallied; their one idea was to employ feintsand stratagems, and take no risks. They must act according to theirlights; his own course was clear.
"Then, Salvador," said he, looking the cacique hard in the eyes, "sinceyou won't come on there's only one thing left to be done, and that isfor me to try the thing by myself. What will you do if I go aheadalone?"
The cacique made no direct reply, but turned hastily to his threecompanions, and some rapid remarks were interchanged between them.Quickly he produced a grey powder of some unknown kind from a littlepouch, and he shared it out among his three fellow-tribesmen. They allof them bared their tawny breasts and rubbed it over their hearts,speaking magic words the while. The silent American gazed at them, halfin wonder, half in scorn.
"What's all that amount to?" he asked.
"Strong medicine, Sooshiuamo, to make our hearts brave," answered all ofthem together.
"Then I'd rather you'd got a little sand in your craws," mutteredStephens in English. He had hardened his heart for a desperate venture,and their reluctance to follow him vexed him sorely. "There isn't one ofthem, not one, I don't believe, that's got any sand," he repeated. Tohave "sand," means to be willing to fight to the death when called upon,and that was just what these men were not willing to do. Then aloud inSpanish: "What's the good of all that tomfool business?" he asked."You're only humbugging yourselves about it. You don't really meanfight." There was bitter scorn in his tones.
"Oh, yes, we can fight," retorted the Pueblo chief, not a little nettledat the American's words, "but we're not fools--at least not such foolsas to want to get killed. But we've got a very good place to fight fromhere. If you go forward by yourself, and they shoot at you, then we'llbe able to shoot at them from behind these rocks. First-class shelterhere."
"Oh, it's A1," said Stephens sarcastically; "it's a splendid place toshoot from at people who are four hundred yards away, and out of sight."He gave a laugh of contempt. "Well, don't you make any cursed error,though, and shoot me in the back by mistake," he went on, while bucklinghis belt a couple of holes tighter, and securing his pistol holster atthe back of his right hip so that it should not work round to the frontof his body when he stooped and bent down to creep, as he must needs do,in the course of his advance on the Navajo camp. He saw to it that thebuckskin strings which secured his moccasins were securely knotted,studiously attending to each detail with the tense nerves of the man whosays to himself at every little bit of preparation, "_Now_ may be thevery last time I shall ever do that." To his revolver and rifle heneeded not to look; they were freshly cleaned and oiled, and full ofcartridges; both would go like clockwork, and he knew it. He handed theriata of the mare to the cacique. "You look after her for me, Salvador,"he said; "I don't know that I'll be needing her again, but I guess if Ileave her with you I'll know where to find her if I do."
"Come on, Faro," said he to the dog, patting his head and raising awarning finger to bid him come quietly, as if it had been for a stalk onsome unsuspecting stag, and turning his back on the four Indians thewhite man went forward alone.