CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
IN PAINFUL SUSPENSE.
Than the rest of that night no more anxious time has been spent by thebeleaguered miners. If their new messenger fail in his errand, thenthey can never dispatch another. No chance for a second one to descendthe cliff, or get down the gorge, for both will be hereafter guardedmore carefully than ever.
All stay awake till morning, listening to every sound below, and doingwhat they can to interpret it. They had heard the cries near the Indiancamp as Henry Tresillian attempted to pass it, those by the ravine'shead hearing them plainer. Then other cries, as in response, proceedingfrom the western side of the lake.
After that a moment of silence, succeeded by a plunging noise, as of ahorse making his way through deep water. And soon after shouts again,for a while continuous, terminating in hoof-strokes, at each instantless distinct, at length dying away in the distance.
But just then they upon the cliff had to listen to other sounds moreconcerning themselves. For it was at this time their presence becameknown to the party remaining behind, resulting in that hurried ascentfrom ledge to ledge, with the loss of one of their number.
Long after, they see that which renews their excitement, their thoughtsin a conflict between hope and fear. From the vidette post, aroundwhich they have all gathered, they behold a moving mass, in the earlydawn distinguishable as men on horseback. It is the party who went inpursuit of their messenger returning. But whether they have him withthem or no cannot be told; for they come back in a thick clump, and hemay be in its midst invisible. Nor is it opened out till they passbehind the abutment of rock, disappearing from the view of those on the_mesa_.
By the besieged ones the day is passed with anxiety unrelieved. For,although several had hastily proceeded to a point from which a sight ofthe Indian camp could be obtained, it was yet too dark to see whetherthe pursuers had brought back a prisoner. And when daylight came, hemight be there without their being able to see him--inside the marquee,or under one of the wagons.
Gradually, however, their hopes gain the ascendant; for nothing ofCrusader can be seen, and the noble steed, if there, could not well behidden away. Besides, there is no more setting up of that ensanguinedstake, no more firing at a human target, as would likely have takenplace had the pale-faced courier been their captive. Instead, a certainrestlessness, with signs of apprehension, is observed among themselvesthroughout all the day, almost proclaiming his escape.
In Don Estevan's tent it is discussed, and this conclusion come to,giving joy to all. But to none as to his own daughter. All day a preyto keen, heart-sickening anxiety, how glad is she at hearing the_gambusino_ say:
"I'm sure the senorito has got safe away, and is now on the road toArispe. Were it not so, we'd have seen him ere this--tied to thataccursed stake and riddled with bullets, as the others. The brutesmeant doing the same with me; had almost begun it, when, thanks to theVirgin, there came a slip between cup and lip. And I think we may thankher now for giving a like chance to the brave lad. _Santos Dios_! hedeserves it."
Cheering words to Gertrude, who can scarce resist rushing up to thespeaker and giving him a kiss for them. Chaste kiss it would be, forthe _gambusino_ is neither young nor handsome. She contents herself bysaying:
"Oh, sir! if he get safe to Arispe, you shall be paid for your saddleten times over. I'm sure father will not grudge that."
"Saddle, _nina lindissima_!" exclaims Vicente, with a quizzical smile;"that's nought to me. I'd be glad to sacrifice a hundred such--ay, athousand, if I could afford it, for him you seem so interested in. Hislife's too precious to be weighed in the scale against all the horsegearin the world."
All signify approval of these generous sentiments, so pleasing to theyouth's father, who tacitly listens. And the brief dialogue over, theyturn to discussing the chances of relief reaching them, now for thefirst time seeming favourable.
"If," says Don Estevan, hopeful as any, "he meet no accident beforearriving at Arispe, then we may count on receiving succour. There's butone thing we have to fear--time! Nor need we fear that, if ColonelRequenes be there with his regiment. By ill fortune he may not."
"What reason have you for thinking he may not?" asks Robert Tresillian.
"I recall his telling me, just before we started, that there was alikelihood of his being ordered to Guaymas, to assist in suppressing areported rising of the Yaquis Indians. If he has gone thither we'll beno better off than before."
"But the people of Arispe--surely they will not be indifferent to oursituation?"
It is the Englishman who interrogates.
"Ah, true," returns the Mexican, correcting himself, as a reassuredexpression comes over his countenance. "They will not. I did not thinkof that. I see it now."
"'Tis not for us and ours alone we may expect them to bestir themselves;but for their own relatives and friends. Think, _amigo mio_! Thereisn't one of our following but has left some one behind who should rushto the rescue soon as hearing how things stand."
"You're right, Don Roberto. Whether the soldiers be there or not.Arispe and its surroundings can surely furnish force enough to effectour deliverance. We must have patience--hope and pray for it."
"Dear husband," here interposes the senora, "you seem to forget mybrother, Juliano, and his three hundred _peones_. At least half of themare brave fellows, a match for any savages as these who surround us. IfHenrique succeed in reaching Arispe, he will go on to my brother's_hacienda_, soldiers or no soldiers."
This speech from an unexpected quarter further heightens their hopes,already rapidly rising. They almost feel as if the siege was beingraised, and themselves about to continue their long-delayed journey.
A like sentiment pervades the people all through the camp. In everyshed and booth is a group conversing on the same topic, and much in asimilar way; all with trusting reliance on the friends left behind,confident they will not fail them.
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At this self-same hour the feeling in the Coyotero camp is quite thecontrary: instead of confidence, there is doubt, even apprehension. Thewhite men's messenger--for they are sure he must have been this--has gotthrough their lines, clear away, and well do they comprehend theconsequences.
They know the miners come from Arispe--marks on the wagons and otherchattels tell them that--and the paleface courier will be now hasteningthither. On such a swift steed he will reach it in quick time; and,with the tale which he has to tell, alike quick will be the response: arescuing host in rush for Nauchampa-tepetl. It may even arrive beforethe return of their raiders from the Horcasitas.
Thus apprehensive, on the day and night following the escape of HenryTresillian, and for many days and nights after, there is as much, if notmore, anxiety in the camp of the besiegers as in that of the besieged.
The latter fear but famine; the former, fire and sword.