CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

  SUCCOUR IN SIGHT.

  Not an hour of daylight now passes, scarce a minute, without Don EstevanVillanueva or Robert Tresillian having the telescope to their eyes,scanning the plain southward. For days this has been their practice, upto that on which the red marauders are seen returning from theirmurderous expedition.

  And on the following morning at earliest dawn the two--Pedro Vicentealong with them--take their stand on an outward projection of the_mesa_, which commands a view of the _llano_ all round its southernside, at the same time overlooking the Coyotero camp.

  They have not been long there when, under the first rays of the risingsun, they see something sparkle which had never been observed by thembefore, though in a place with which they are familiar--the same wherethey first sighted the Cerro Perdido. Nor is the glancing object asingle one, for there are many shining points as stars in aconstellation. They are visible to the naked eye, for as yet none ofthem have looked through the telescope. As Don Estevan is levelling it,the _gambusino_ says:

  "Looks like the glitter of arms and accoutrements. Pray the Virgin itbe that!"

  "It _is_ that!" cries Don Estevan, at the first glance through theglass. "Arms, and in the hands of men. I can make out a body of horsein uniform--soldiers. Requenes and his regiment; he to a certainty. Atlength--at last--we may hope to be rescued, and our long imprisonmentbrought to an end."

  His words, spoken excitedly and aloud, attract those who are saunteringnear, and soon most upon the _mesa_ come clustering round him. To seewith eyes unaided that metallic sheen, as they eagerly hearken to itsinterpretation. Don Estevan, with the telescope still held aloft, goeson speaking:

  "Yes; 'tis they! I can see they carry lances, by the sun glinting onthe blades above their heads. They can be no other than the Zacatecasregiment, with my brother-in-law at its head. Your son, Tresillian, issafe; their being yonder tells of his having reached Arispe. Braveyouth! we all owe him our blessing."

  "And we give him that, with our gratitude!" shouts Pedro Vicente, theothers enthusiastically echoing his words.

  There is a momentary lull, all ears intently listening for what DonEstevan may next say; which is:

  "They appear to be extending line, and look as if there were a good sixor seven hundred. Ah! now I note there are others besides the lancers--a battery of brass guns--that's what's flashing back the sun. And abody of horsemen, not in uniform. They seem to be at halt. Why and forwhat?"

  "Like enough," suggests Tresillian, "they've made out our flag tellingthem we are still here. Requenes, with others of his officers, willhave telescopes too, and must see it, as also that smoke over the campbelow. It will tell them our besiegers are there also. That wouldcause them to halt--to concert measures for the attack."

  "You're right, Don Roberto, it must be as you say. But now there's amovement among them. The mass is breaking up into detachments, somecommencing to march to the right, others to the left. Ah! I see itall: they mean making a surround, cutting off the retreat of our enemy._Caramba_! Requenes _is_ a cunning strategist, as I always believedhim."

  With the glass still at his eye, the old soldier can see every movementmade, comprehending all, and explaining them in succession to theaudience around him. A party of lancers, seemingly a squadron,separating from the main body, moves off to the right, another party oflike strength proceeding in the opposite direction. Then otherdetachments follow these, as if to form an enfilading line when the timecomes for it. But the central force remains stationary long after theflanking parties have been extended, and is only seen to advance whenthey are far away. These make wide circuit, evidently designed toembrace the Coyoteros' camp, and, if need be, the Cerro itself.

  And now they draw nearer till all upon the _mesa_, without anyartificial aid, can see they are men, and as such surely friendshastening to their rescue.

  To their joy they also perceive that the occupants of the Indian campare as yet unaware of what is approaching. Five hundred feet below,their view is more limited; and long before the soldiers become visibleto them, they above see the latter distinctly, and understand theirstrategic scheme.

  Meanwhile the savages are not acting in the ordinary way: signs ofcommotion are observable among them, as if some change were intended.Horses are being caught and caparisoned, while the newly acquiredanimals from the Horcasitas are again loaded with the spoils, those thatcarried the captives being also made ready for the road.

  The women are themselves seen within the _corral_; as on the eveningbefore, looking forlorn, every one of them a picture of despair. Theyare to be taken they know not whither, but to a place from which theyhave no hope of return. Little dream they that friends are so near.

  "What a pity we can't let them know of rescue being at hand!" says DonEstevan. "They could hear us if we call to them, but some of theCoyoteros are acquainted with our language, and it would warn themalso."

  "No fear of that," affirms the _gambusino_; "I think I can speak atongue that the redskins won't understand, and the women will."

  "What tongue?" asks Don Estevan.

  "The Opata. Some of those girls are _mestizas_, and should know thelingo of their mothers."

  "Try them with it, then, Don Pedro."

  "With your worship's leave, I will."

  Saying which, the _gambusino_ advances to the outermost edge of thecliff, and, with all the strength of his lungs, utters some wordsaltogether unintelligible to those around him, but evidently understoodby the captives below.

  Several of them on hearing it spring suddenly to their feet, looking upin the direction whence it came, surprised to see men above, hithertounobserved by them, and still more to hear speech addressed tothemselves. Hope and joy become mingled with their astonishment, whenthe _gambusino_ goes on in the same vernacular to tell them how it is,and that succour is near.

  Though listening all the while, not one of the Apaches appears tocomprehend a word of what Vicente is saying. They suppose it a mereexpression of sympathy; and, without giving heed to it, proceed withtheir preparations for departure. They are evidently bent upon this,though it may be but the raiders about to continue on to their home inApacheria. Still, other signs seem to indicate a general clearing outof the camp; for now the whole _caballada_ of horses are being broughtin saddled and bridled, while everything portable in the way of goods isturned out within the _corral_, packed as if for transportation.

  And in reality it is their intention to abandon both camp and siege,though reluctantly, and hating to surrender a chance of revenge that hadseemed so sure and near. But they have had enough to content them forthe time, and there is a fear which forces them to forego it. Eversince Henry Tresillian escaped them they have been nervouslyapprehensive, correctly surmising him a messenger. He must long sincehave reached Arispe, and may at any moment reappear, guiding back aforce sufficient to overwhelm them.

  While yet unrecovered from their night's carousal, it is as thefulfilment of a dream, their worst apprehensions realised, as theybehold coming towards them, though still far off, a body of men,uniformed and in serried array, with pennoned lances borne aloft!

  The sight is not so much a surprise, neither does it produce a panic;for they who approach seem not in such numbers as to overawe them. Thedetached parties sent around are not within their view, and with theirhabitual contempt for the Mexican _soldados_, they make light of thosethat are, imagining them under a mistake--advancing upon an enemy whosestrength they have underrated.

  The error is their own; but, misled by it, they resolve to ride out,meet the pale-faced foemen, and anticipate their attack. Their chief socommands it.

  Quick as thought every warrior is upon his horse, gun or spear in hand;they, too, in military formation--line of battle--pressing forward tothe encounter, the sentries alone left on post.