CHAPTER THIRTY.
THE RAIDERS RETURNED.
Another ten days have elapsed, and they on the Cerro Perdido are heldthere rigorously as ever; a strong guard kept constantly stationed atboth points where it is possible for them to reach the plain.
In the interval no incident of any note has arisen to vary the monotonyof their lives. One day is just as the other, with little to occupythem, save the watch by the ravine's head, which needs to be maintainedwith vigilance unabated.
But much change has arisen both in their circumstances and appearance.With provision wellnigh out, they have been for days on less than halfallowance, and famine has set its stamp on their features. Pallid,hollow cheeks, with eyes sunken in their sockets, are seen all around;and some of the weaker ones begin to totter in their steps, till theplace more resembles the grounds of an hospital than an encampment oftravellers. They have miscalculated their resources, which gave outsooner than expected.
In this lamentably forlorn condition they are still uncertain as to thefate of their messenger, their doubts about his safety increasing everyday--every hour. Not that they suppose him to have fallen into thehands of the Coyoteros. On the contrary, they are convinced of hishaving escaped, else some signs of his capture would have been apparentin the Indian camp, and none such are observed. But other contingenciesmay have arisen: an accident to himself, or his horse, delaying him onthe route, if not stopping him altogether.
Or may it be, as Don Estevan has said, that Colonel Requenes with hissoldiers is absent from Arispe, and there is a difficulty in raising aforce of civilians sufficient for effecting their rescue?
These conjectures, with many others, pass through their minds, producinga despondency, now at its darkest and deepest. For at first, in theirimpatience, blind to probabilities, they fancied theirs a wingedmessenger--a Mercury, who should have brought them succour long since.That bright dream is passed, and the reaction has set in, gloomy asshadow of death itself.
Nor seems there to be much cheer in the camp of their besiegers. Theycan look down upon it from a distance near enough to distinguish theindividual forms of the savages, and note all their actions in the open.Through the telescope can be read even the expressions on theirfeatures, showing that they, too, have their anxieties andapprehensions; no doubt from the black horse and his rider having gotaway from them.
Their scouts are still observed to come and go. Some are sentnorthward, others to the south; the last evidently to look out for thereturn of the raiding party gone down the Horcasitas.
Another day passes, and they are seen coming back, at a pace whichbetokens their bringing a report of an important nature. That it is awelcome one to their comrades in the camp can be told by their shouts oftriumph as they approach.
Soon after they upon the _mesa_ are made aware of the cause, by seeingthe red marauders themselves coming on towards the camp, in array verydifferent from that when leaving it. Instead of only their arms andlight equipments, every man of them is now laden with spoil, every horsebesides his rider carrying a load, either on withers or croup. And theyhave other horses with them now--a _caballada_--mules, too, all underpack and burden.
No, not all. As the long straggling line draws closer to the Cerro,they on its summit see a number of these animals bearing on their backssomething more than the loot of plundered houses. They see women, mostof them appearing to be young girls.
As they are conducted on to the camp, and inside its enclosure, DonEstevan, viewing them through his telescope, can trace upon theirpersons, as their features, all the signs and lines proclaiming utterdespair: dresses torn, hair hanging dishevelled, and eyes downcast, withnot a ray or spark of hope in them.
Others look through the glass, to be pained by the heart-saddeningspectacle; each of the married ones, as he views it, thinking of his ownwife or daughter, in fear their fate may be the same--a fate too horridto be dwelt upon in thought, much less to be talked about.
This day they are not permitted to see more. Twilight is already on,and night's darkness, almost instantly succeeding, shuts out from theirview everything below.
But if they see not, they can hear. There are continuous noises in thecamp throughout the rest of the night--cries and joyous ejaculations.The Coyoteros have made a grand _coup_: much plunder acquired, manyprisoners taken, and pale-faced foes slain, almost to a glut ofvengeance. They are greatly jubilant, and yield themselves to a verypaean of rejoicing, their boasts and exulting shouts at intervalsreverberating along the cliffs.
It is another night of carousal with them, as that when they first satedown to the siege; for among the proceeds of their recent maraud areseveral pig-skins of _aguardiente_, and this fiery spirit, freelydistributed, excites them almost to madness.
So loud are their yells, so angrily, vengefully intoned, that they wholisten above begin to fear they may at length become reckless, and,_coute que coute_, risk the assault so long unattempted. In suchnumbers now, feeling their strength, they may hold a little loss light.Besides, there is still that apprehension from the side of Arispe; itmay further urge them to a desperate deed, which, if not done at once,must be left undone, and the siege ingloriously abandoned.
These are but the conjectures of the besieged, who, acting upon them,keep watch throughout the remainder of the night. Never more wakeful,seemingly, though never less needed; for up till the hour of dawn, noassailant is seen approaching the gorge, no sound heard of any oneattempting to scale that steep acclivity.
Of those fearing that they will try, Pedro Vicente is not among thenumber. Endeavouring to give confidence to his doubting companions, hesays,
"I know the Coyoteros too well to suppose them such fools. Not all the_aguardiente_ in Sonora will make them mad enough to expose themselvesto our battery of stones. They don't forget our having it here, andthat we're watching their every movement; ready to rain a storm of rockson them if they but come under its range. So, _camarados_, keep upheart and courage! We've nothing more to fear to-day than we hadyesterday. That's hunger, not their spears or scalping-knives."
Fortified by the _gambusino's_ words, they to whom they are addressedfeel their confidence restored--enough to inspire them with furtherpatience and endurance.