CHAPTER XV.
THE PATHFINDER'S HONOUR.
Here might the author stop, and, in sooth, he was going to writethe words "The End," glad that the episode of the pearl fisher had,at least, the happy _finis_ so desired by the novel reader; but myeditor,[1] who was smoking a cigar at my elbow, in my sanctum, and whohad been interested enough in what I was dashing off to follow thelines over my shoulder, checked my hand abruptly.
"Here, here!" he cried, as "The End" was on the point of flowing frommy pen. "Do you mean to tell us that you know nothing more of BenitoVazquez, his bride and his friends?"
"But I do," I answered with a sigh, for a sad memory had been revivedby the unexpected inquiry. "But may I not leave the Pearl fisher richon his _hacienda_ in Sonora?"
"No," said my editor. "Why should you stop here? As long as you do knowsomething more about him, the tale is not told. Our readers, who havebecome enwrapt in your hero--I may almost say your two heroes--will becharmed, I warrant, to learn all they can further."
"Now, do you really think," I inquired, hesitatingly, "that thiscontinuation will not bore?"
"Far from that, since it will complete the opening. I must acknowledgethat your finish struck me as pulling up short. To conclude with, 'Andso they were wed, and all lived happy ever after,' is to be met with inevery novel and romance."
"Have your own way," I answered, "since you wish more, my dear friend,I shall go on and give you the completion required, which, this time,you may make up your mind to it will not be rounded off at the altar.Only I would like everyone to know that you, and you alone, insistedupon having it so."
"Very well," he said, laughing; "scribble away! I am sure we shall bethe gainers!"
And now, dear readers, having protected myself as regards you all, Icontinue the story with the hope that the conclusion will interest youas much as, I understand, the foregoing has pleased you.
Mr. Gladsden went to England to imitate his friend and comrade bysacrificing to Hymen.
He married, and had two sons. They were still young when he losttheir beloved mother, and ere long, in accordance with that verycontra-French custom of keeping the children in leading strings whichpushes the British boy into life beyond the home, they dwelt remotefrom him at school. He was, therefore, a lonely man. Politics had noattraction to one still active, fox hunting was tame after his Americanexperience, and yachting was baby play to a genuine mariner.
Gladsden had already shown his remembrance of Mexico by investingheavily in its Western Railway, and hence he was confidentlyapproached by the promoters of that link which should make it fullytranscontinental, and by the later projectors, who sought to establishthe line between Guaymas and that running down through the wild landsto Santa Fe, El Paso, Topeka, and thus binding the cactus country tothat of wheat, corn, and cattle.
From joining the board of the latter companies to volunteering to goout and investigate the causes of a prodigious slowness in building theline was an affair of short duration. Mr. Gladsden's offer was gladlyaccepted, and he started with alacrity, which proved how deep had beenhis longing to break away from social trammels.
This time he proceeded overland from New York, and finally surveyed theroute of the Great Southern Pacific Railway as far as El Paso. Therea chance speech overheard in the Continental House, which encloseda reference to the rich land proprietor, don Benito de Bustamente,changed his purpose to proceed still westwardly. He engaged a guide andhorses, and was, at the beginning of May, traversing the Sierra de lasAnimas, or Mountains of All Souls.
On the twenty-fifth of that month, going on four of the afternoon, atime clearly indicated by the disproportionately long shadows of thetrees on the sandy soil of the _savannah_, and the coppery red colourof the sun, which appeared like a fiery disc at the level of thelowermost branches, we see Gladsden and his guide mounted on nativehorses. The superior wore for old acquaintance sake the costume ofMexican rancheros, and his attendant the picturesque and typical garbof the hunter of the West. They were both armed to the teeth, as amatter of course, for, in this quarter, all honest men are exposed tothe three heads of the Southwestern Cerberus: that of the "rustlers,"or white desperadoes; of the _bandoleros_, or Mexican thieves; and ofthe wild Indians, none of them uniting with either of the others, buttrue Ishmaels.
It was remarkable that the prairie guide, however, had acceded to theprogress of improvement in firearms, in lieu of the long and heavyrifle so celebrated along the backbone of the continent in the hands ofthe trapper and hunter, this man carried, like his employer, a finelyfinished Winchester breech-loading and repeating rifle, much strongerand larger than the general pattern.
The pair had just emerged from an immense forest of cedar, which hadnever yet known the woodman's threat, though doomed ere long to feed alocomotive engine's furnace, and were glad to cry halt at the skirts ofthe covert. Then they trotted down to a pretty stream, which was one ofthe sources of the Yaqui River, and bending so far to the westward asto make an inexperienced explorer fancy it had something to do ratherwith the San Miguel.
Indeed, the woodsman examined the muddy waters with serious heed fora long time, and executed some mental calculations in that wonderfuluntaught trigonometry of the frontiersman. Then, stopping his _broncho_by a scarcely perceptible pressure of his knees, he bent gracefullytowards his employer, and said, as he smiled good-humouredly:
"Hyar you hev it, Mr. Gladsden; this ar the safe ford, though themelting snow has set the sink pits filling, of which I war speakingthis noonday."
"Quite certain, eh, Oliver?" remarked the English gentleman.
"I wish I was as sartin sure I shell die with my har on," was theother's laughing answer, showing magnificent teeth for a man of fifty,which hard biscuit and harder deer meat, with plenty of "chaw" init, seemed nowise to have impaired. "Anybody but me mout go askew,but I have known all these _tracks_ (he meant 'tracts,' for it was atrackless wild, in plain truth), now an' agen, off an' on, for overfifteen year."
"Pray overlook my offensive persistency, Oliver; but I cannot helpobserving that I do not see any of the sites by which, according to myinformants at The Pass, I was to learn the exact position of a crossingline in a treacherous stream. And I have been a sailor, too, andaccustomed to go any course, if I have reasonable bearings laid downand visible."
"Oh, I never mind your being cornered, sir," went on the other, stillmerry; "they forgot to tell you the distances in mapping out the pints.You cannot see the Chinapa Peak even from here. But it's all one, Mr.Gladsden; here is the point of the Yaqui. Yonder, I can see the smokeof a _pueblo_--the village they call Fronteras, as they do half a dozensuch places within a crow's fly along the borderland. That reddishhaze is over the Rio Bravo, whence we came. Now, to reach the road toArispe, you cross and you keep dead ahead, and you must strike it."
"Well, I must say, Oliver, that since I have had the pleasure of ajourney at your side, all your information has been as credible asgospel. It is a long while since I was in the wilderness; but I didhave a taste of it once, and I am confident that on more than oneoccasion already you have diverged from the apparently true course tosave me from something unpleasant. I conjecture my equipment, on whichI had no reason to spare money, excited the cupidity of some of theloafers at El Paso, and that we were followed."
"Right you are! And I threw them out clean twice. And a couple of timesmore, thar hev been injin 'signs' hot as cayenne. That's jest why Isay you had best git over the water now, rather than wait any longer,though there will be less fear o' your hoss being carried off hishoofs."
"Fifteen years ago, my friend," said Gladsden, who had not failed toremark mentally, how little the speaker had dwelt on the cares he hadalready exercised to preserve his charge from the "hostiles," white andred, "I should have been so reckless as to say--since I should like ourhaving a parting meal together--let us sit here and eat away! But Ihave no right to expose your life to peril, even if I had not two boysat home for whom mine is still desirable. So, if you do
not object, letme show you that I have learnt prudence from your continual exercise ofit, and that our repast shall take place on the farther side of thisshallow, frothing, dirty-hued river."
"Nothing hinders me," answered the hunter. "Have things your own way.Let us hie over before sundown."
He looked to the mustang's already terribly tight girths, shorteningthe stirrup straps and caught up some of the trappings which dangled inthe Mexican style.
"Thar we 'do' the river," he said, pointing, "follow me step by step.I ought to go before, but your saddleback is high, and you must tripleyour blanket across your shoulders and neck, in case of a shot. If weare fired on from the rear do not turn but fall flat on the horse'sneck. If we are fired on from your side, return the shot at anythingmoving in the froth. If from my side, I'll deal with that. Leave yourhoss free to step in the steps of mine, for the crossing line is verynarrer, the bottom one mass of holes and quicksands, and the currentrushes like lightning where it does have free play; there is, moreover,a gulf below with rapids that grind granite like chalk. The leastimprudence will send us, hoss and cavalyers, rolling along like Canadythistle balls in a breeze. You hev your caution--no fooling, mark!"
All the hunter guide's mirthfulness had vanished, and the stern tonemade Mr. Gladsden start. We know he was incontestably brave, and thathe had gone through some such perils as now confronted him; but theadvance of civilisation in the southwest had given him an impressionthat his former adventures were things of an irrecoverable past.
However, there was no time to meditate, for his guide had pushed hishorse into the water; and the other immediately followed it. They, too,seemed imbued with consciousness of the situation being perilous, for,though thirsty, they did not attempt to moisten their muzzles, albeitthe bridles, as Oliver directed, were slackened and the cruel Mexicanbits ceased their tyranny.
The passage was performed without accident, and soon the pair were onthe further bank in about the only break in a ragged, steep ledge.
"Hyar we kin stake out," said the guide, "and await moonrise for our'forking off.' Meanwhile, that feast, if you still air set on it, sir."
They dismounted, the hunter went and drew water for the horses in anindia rubber saddle bag, whilst the Englishman lifted off a huge doublesack from the back of his saddle, which is called the _alforjas_, andtook out a deer ham and a plover already cooked, a piece of Dutchcheese so hard as almost to turn the knife, some green fruit, bananas,guavas, and chirimoyas which they had picked on the way to eat as akind of salad, and lastly, some army biscuit.
By the time the guide had completed his duties, the spread was laid.A very sober man, as most of these borderers are except when they'break out' and indulge in a week's heavy and uninterrupted drinking,much as seamen of 'temperance ships' do after a rough voyage, Olivermerely added as much brandy, of which they had a couple of flasks full,as would settle the mud in the water freshly drawn. They both drewknives as sharp as their appetites, and fell on the victuals withoutlosing breath in a further word in addition to a brief but feelinggrace which the Englishman uttered, and to which the American, whomthe innovation reminded of the same religious practice, vague from itsearly occurrence in his life, said a hearty "Amen."
We take the moment, when this agreeable occupation rewards them bothfor a long, fatiguing ride, to trace their portraits.
Gladsden had become a trifle portlier, and had lost his sunburns. Hewas less quick to move, but more irresistible in action than ever. Inbrief, the hussar was now a heavy cavalrist, whom even these few weeksin the Southwest had improved in mind, wind, and limb. His sight wasdimmer, but he had no need of glasses to shoot well and straight.
His companion was a man apparently in the prime of life, but he musthave been twenty years older than the three decades which seemed, tothe casual observer, to sit so lightly on his broad shoulders. He wasrather tall than medium, and the absence of superfluous flesh, and theunusual length of his limbs would make him look like a giant among thesmall statured Mexicans and squat horse Indians, mostly bowlegged. Hisneck was short and muscular, and, thus, his head had a small aspect,like Hercules; the features were cold if not stern, and his cast ofcountenance was devoid of muscular play, except when one of his merrymoods was on him. Vigour and rigour distinguished him on active duty.
Under a broad forehead, his somewhat deep set eyes, crowned withbushy brows, were of a changeable nature, for, while almost blue whenhe was calm, anger caused them to become dull brown, and they coulddart flashes like those of felines, they were very movable and werecontinually examining things around, save when he was addressinganyone, whereupon they were straight, frank, and steadfast. His longbrown hair, saturated with bear's grease--for your frontiersman has asneaking respect for the toilet--and hence almost black, streamed longand freely out from beneath a homemade hat of mountain sheep wool andcovered his shoulders.
His two names denoted the extent of his ranging ground, for he wasgenerally known among his own race as "Oregon Ol.," and by the Indiansof the Mexican border as "the Ocelot," that being the wild cat of theMexicans (Ocelolt, in Aztec), a trifle less than the jaguar, but,muscularly speaking, very powerful and no joke for ferocious courage.
In the same way as this well-known guide possessed several names, hecould boast various reputations. The United States Army officers wrotehim down as kindly, never downhearted in sun or snow, skilful, honestto a button's worth, disinterested, knowing woodcraft thoroughly,always ready, aye, even to help a friend out of pocket, canteen, orwith his wits, bold to temerity when boldness was the best card,"reliable," and sticking to his man, friend or foe, to the last gasp.
For the redskins, Oliver was quite other game: he inspiredsuperstitious terror blended with admiration; no one ever succeeded incontests of cunning with him; implacable towards anyone who sought toinjure or even annoy him, he would pursue the molester or molesters,one or many, to their final hiding place, cutting off stragglers,reducing the band like a man devouring a bunch of grapes, one by one,and knifing the last at his lone campfire. "That will teach them,"he would say, when reproached by new coming dragoon officers, at theforts, who thought it unseemly for a white man to decorate his leggingswith human hair like the reds. He meant that his punishment was tosave, by its recital filling the Indians with dread, many another whiteman on the debatable ground, brother hunter, comrade trapper, emigrant,settler, pioneer, railway prospector.
We say "brother" hunter and "comrade" trapper, for Oregon Oliver only_shot_ animals; to him, any other means of obtaining fur and featherwould have been ignoble.
Up to some five years back he had been in the habit of transmittingmoney, acquired by the sale of peltries, by piloting wealthy foreignersover the hunting grounds in fashion, and by schooling army officersin frontier warfare, to some relation in the Eastern States, who hadsucceeded his parents as the embodiment of the ideal of home; but deathhaving removed this claim, as he generously conceived it to be, uponhis purse, he had no need to toil as formerly he did, and he led aneasy life, following for the most part his own sweet free will, overthe ten thousand miles which separate Southern America from the PolarSeas.
These two men, as opposite in nature and station as well could be, hadmade acquaintance in the most natural manner.
Mr. Gladsden wanted a guide into Sonora, and the colonel at FortFillmore, with whom he had been quail shooting, had recommended "thechampion guide."
Once on the road to Arispe, studded with hamlets, all of them, perhaps,increased in importance since Gladsden's previous stay in Sonora, aconductor was superfluous. At least he was under that impression.
Hunters never dally with a meal; a quarter of an hour or twenty minutesat the most suffice, then, if there be more time to spare, there is achat amid tobacco smoke. Thus acted our two adventurers.
The rest of the provender was restored to the alforjas, and Oliverfilled a sweet corncob pipe, whilst Mr. Gladsden selected an excellentregalia in a prettily carved Guayaquil wood box. As soon as they wereboth under a cl
oud, they mused for a while in silence.
When the English gentleman broke this stillness, it was in theheartiest tone of good fellowship. It was to pay a compliment againupon the experienced guide and genial companion.
"All right," said the man from Oregon, "you are doing me justice: I hevdone my level best. As long as all turns out well, and you have no dirtto cast on me, thar's no bone splinters in my meat."
"Oliver, you _are_ a thorough white man," went on Mr. Gladsden,uttering the _acme_ of western flattery, "all but the liver, and I'deat that of the rogue I ever caught defaming you or your class!"
It was a savage way of putting it, which was not unfitting the scene.
"At home with a shoal of old servants about me, I would not lie downwith the confidence that I feel in the desert beside you."
"You are painting it on mighty thick," was the caustic answer,"but you do not know enough of me to see that I am not anymeet-every-next-minute kind of critter. Young in years, I was thenaged by tussle and bustle. So, drop this flattery right thar which Ished, like a wild duck the spray of a waterfall. I hev carried out myengagement to a T, and that's all said and done."
"Stop a bit! I shall send you out some special present from Englandyet, over and above the mere pay. You have a rough mind, mate," saidMr. Gladsden, laughing.
"Not a jot, no! I am a plain man. It is all very well for you cityfolks when somebody has done you a good turn to talk of shiningrewards, with the _idee_ that you thereby put him in a lariat to follyyou for the futur', but, how shu'd you! You are about wrong every time!You foun' this coon pooty nigh sweeped out of existence, for when ahunter has lost mules, fixin's, _and_ rifle, all through them durn'dred thieves--Soo or Pawnee--he is an or'nary cuss on'y fit for theInjin boys to switch. Then you begun operations by forcing on me thisharnsum shooting iron, which has made me take back all my ripping outagen new fangled machinery in firearms. It's a 'stonisher!"--and hepatted the wondrous weapon affectionately. "Think o' that, a marvel in_herself_, and an outfit in keeping to boot, and all gift-free! It'slordly, that's what it is, though I don't pass out well in knowledge ofyour lords an' sich. But I am off on a false trail. As I was sayin',the man who swallers promises and who likes praise is a hireling helpand never a friend or _compadre_."
"But I take it, we do part friends as we have journeyed, eh?" asked Mr.Gladsden, offering his hand with unhesitating trustfulness.
"You bet!" replied Oliver, grasping the hand so hastily that one couldsee that he would not have given any pain by delay for the world. "Youwere recommended to me by a gentleman whom I hold as of prime vally.I hev seen the Colonel, when we were floundering in the snows of theSierrar, give up his rags and his last drink of coffee to a poormixed blood teamster! Why, I'd die for that man, and that man's doge'enamost! I am ready to die for you, as his friend. And that's why itrode rough on me to have you want to break loose at the bank of thisriver, and plunge alone into the yaller bellies' district. You mout aswell ask me to lead a blind man safe over forty rod of rough ground tothe brink of a precipice, and then let go his hand, a-saying: 'Now, lether slide, old dark-y!"
"At all events, you have fully done your task. But why do youagain hint of danger? I give you my word that I have pricked upmy ears--which is more than our horses have done--and yet not theslightest--"
"Go on talking, and louder," whispered Oliver, significantly.
The Englishman hardly understood, but he obeyed the sudden mysteriousinjunction, whilst his interrupter continued with a vast relish topuff at his pipe, of which the smoke ascended thickly, and at regularperiods. Gladsden listened, and stealthily gazed around, but to noavail. He then glanced at the American, who preserved the same easeof demeanour, and smoked as for a wager, his back to the stream, fromwhich a sound of the turbulent ripple arose; the tobacco glowed in thepipe head, and dully illumined his brooding countenance. It struckthe observer, however, that Oliver's left hand was scarcely sensiblylowering upon his rifle, which, of course, was near at his side.
Suddenly, with an action as rapid as thought, that weapon was pickedup and levelled at the shoulder upon a bush, very thick with foliage,about a hundred and fifty paces afar, and instantly fired. There rose alittle smoke from the touchhole plate, but no shot resounded.
Instantly a dark-complexioned man in hunter's attire bounded out of theshrub with a whoop of triumph, and pointed his gun at the couple incamp. But before the Englishman could do anything, his safe conductor,whose features assumed an expression of scornfulness, pulled thetrigger of the breechloader a second time, and the unfailing bulletdashed into the brain of the stranger even as he was about to shoot.
All this passed in less time than it takes to write it.
Up went the man's hands, so that his gun fell just a little before hemeasured his length on the ground, and curled himself up; no cry, nosecond spasm; he was slain straightway.
"Thought hisself a smart Aleck, I reckon," remarked the hunter, withcontinual contempt. "You'll crawl, sneak, and squirm no more."
"If your rifle had snapped again, you or I would have been keeledover," remarked the Englishman.
"Great Scott!"[2] ejaculated the other, surprised, and laughingheartily, though not aloud. "You ain't a-going to say you were took in,too? Well, I never! It must a'been a 'tarnal choice dodge."
"What do you mean?"
"No great witchcraft. Look here! This man here's a half-breed--Apacheand Mexican, I judge. Well, he's been dogging us ever so long, mayhapfrom The Pass. Anyhow, I thought he got over the water by the FalseFord, by the devil's luck, and, anyhow again, I see him lodge himselfright plum' centre in that bush. Cou'dn't _sight_ him thar no more nora fat dog in an Injin village. But I was fixed in the fact that thar helay, aiming at me or you. So, to fetch him out slick, I resarved some'bacca smoke in my mouth, and when I clicked my nail on the breech, Ijust let the smoke blow off's if it come out of the gun, d'ye see? Lor,how the idiot was sucked in, I reckon! He riz up a-whooping his triumphover the old Oregonian, a-thinking me without a load in! So I had aright fa'r shot."
He went up to his victim and turned out his pockets, and transferredhis arms to his girdle.
"He's half Apache and half greaser, as I opined," he pronounced oncoming back. "So it would puzzle a Supreme Court lawyer to tell whetherhe is scouting on account o' copper colour or yaller belly. Jest bitthe horses, sir. In either case we must file ahead, an' not let hisgang catch on to us. Thar's Tiger Cat and his Apaches on the war path,I heerd, and Oneleg Pedrillo, the champion this-side rustler, neversmokes the pipe of peace. I am saying nothing, make your notch, of theloafers who may have followed us, full of the prospect of a rich haul,for I rally b'lieve thar's an impression at The Pass that you are anEnglish Prince of the blood r'yal examining the United States to seehow far South you want to annex it to Canada, though you ain't out witha four-mule team."
Mr. Gladsden did not laugh at the rhodomontade, while preparing thesteeds.
The sight of the corpse, so lately a vigorous man springing out ofcover to take his life, had in one little instant made him comprehendon what dangerous ground he groped his, perhaps, henceforth hourlythreatened way.
[1] Of the Paris weekly newspaper in which this romance had delightedthe insatiable reader.
[2] Gen. Winfield Scott, a hero of the War of 1812, and that withMexico, is an idol in the American Walhalla. His name becomes aninvocation only partially playfully used by the frontier army officers,their men, and the hunters.