Captured by the Navajos

  XI

  BOTH PONIES ARE STOLEN

  "Here, Frank, come and help push this gate, I can't start it alone."

  "Don't be in such a hurry, Henry. Wait just a moment. I think I hear ahorse coming down the Prescott road. I want to see if it is theexpress from La Paz."

  The younger boy ceased his efforts to close the gates, and advancing afew steps before the entrance of the fort, looked up the valley towhere the road from Prescott appeared from behind a spur of thefoot-hills. The two boys had mounted their sergeant's chevrons andadopted white stripes down the legs of their trousers. As they stoodside by side Vic approached and placed herself between them, nestlingher delicate muzzle against the younger boy's hip and responding tohis caresses with waves of her plumy tail.

  "Do you think we shall hear from father, Frank?"

  "We ought to; you know he said in his last letter he was gettingsettled at the Presidio, and would soon send for us."

  "Takes twelve days to bring a letter from San Francisco. I supposeit'll take us longer to go there; seems to me he might get ready forus while we are on the road," said Henry, lugubriously. "I'm gettingmighty tired of opening and shutting these gates."

  "You forget father has to visit all the posts where companies of hisregiment are stationed. That will probably take him all of a monthlonger."

  "And we must go on opening and closing gates and running errands inArizona? But come; let's get a swing on 'em and watch for theexpressman afterwards. We haven't much time before retreat."

  The gates closed a fort which we had built since our arrival inArizona. Peeled pine logs, ten feet long, had been set up verticallyin the ground, two feet of them below the surface and eight above,enclosing an area of a thousand square feet, in which werestore-rooms, offices, and quarters for two companies of soldiers andtheir officers. At corners diagonally opposite each other were twolarge block-house bastions, commanding the flanks of the fort. Thelogs of the walls were faced on two sides and set close together, andwere slotted every four feet for rifles. At one of the corners whichhad no bastions were double gates, also made of logs, bound by crossand diagonal bars, dovetailed and pinned firmly to them. Each hung onhuge, triple hinges of iron.

  The two boys returned to the gates, and, setting their backs againstone of them and digging their heels in the earth, pushed and swung itponderously and slowly, until its outer edge caught on a shelving logset in the middle of the entrance to support it and its fellow. Then,as the field-music began to play and the men to assemble in line forretreat roll-call, they swung the second gate in the same way, andbraced the two with heavy timbers. The boys then reported the gatesclosed to the adjutant.

  As the companies broke ranks and dispersed the boy sergeants went tothe fifth log, to the left of the gates, and swung it back on itshinges. This was one of two secret posterns. On the inside of thewall, when closed, its location was easily noticeable on account ofits hinges, latches, and braces; on the outside it looked like anyother log in the wall. Their work being completed, the boys askedpermission of the adjutant to stand outside the wall and watch for themail.

  "All right, sergeants," said the adjutant; "there is no further dutyfor you to perform to-day."

  Frank and Henry ran through the postern, and arrived on the crest ofthe bluff overlooking the Prescott road just as a horseman turned upthe height. The news that the La Paz courier had arrived spreadrapidly through the quarters, and every man not on duty appearedoutside the walls.

  Joining the boy sergeants, I said, "Boys, if you want to drop the jobof opening and closing the gates, it can hereafter be done by theguard."

  "Thank you, sir. We took the job, and we'll stick to it," repliedSergeant Frank.

  "I wonder if Samson could lift those gates as easily as he did thegates of Gaza?" questioned Henry, seating himself on a log which hadbeen rejected in the building and taking Vic's head in his lap andfondling her silken ears.

  "We can't remain here much longer," said Frank; "I think this expresswill bring an order for us to go to San Francisco."

  "Very likely. No doubt life here is not very enjoyable for boys."

  "I should say not," said Henry, "for we can't look outside the fortunless a dozen soldiers are along for fear the Apaches 'll get us."

  "But you can go to Prescott."

  "Prescott!" in a tone of great contempt; "twenty-seven log cabins andfive stores, and not a boy in the place--only a dozen Pike County,Missouri, girls."

  "And we can't go there with any comfort since Texas Dick and JumpingJack stole Sancho and Chiquita," added Frank.

  Further conversation on this subject was temporarily interrupted bythe arrival of the expressman. A roan bronco galloped up the slope,bearing a youthful rider wearing a light buck-skin suit and a softfelt hat with a narrow brim. He was armed with a breech-loadingcarbine and two revolvers, and carried, attached to his saddle, a rollof blankets, a haversack, and a mail-pouch.

  Dismounting, he detached the pouch, at the same time answeringquestions and giving us items of news later than any contained in hisdespatches.

  After handing his pouch to the quartermaster-sergeant, his eyes fellupon the boy sergeants.

  "I saw Texas Dick and Juan Brincos at Cisternas Negras," he said,addressing them.

  "My! Did you, Mr. Hudson?" exclaimed Henry, springing to his feet andapproaching the courier. "Did they have our ponies?"

  "You know I never saw your ponies; but Dick was mounted on a black,with a white star in his forehead, and Juan on a cream-color, with abrown mane and tail."

  "Sancho!" said Frank.

  "Chiquita!" said Henry.

  "Do you know where they were bound?" asked Captain Bayard.

  "I did not speak to them, nor did they see me; I thought it would bebetter to keep out of the way of such desperate characters in alonely place. I learned from a friend of theirs at Date Creek thatthey intend to open a monte bank at La Paz."

  "Then they are likely to remain there for some time."

  "Can't something be done to get the ponies back, sir?" asked Frank.

  "Perhaps so. I will consider the matter."

  The mail was taken to my office and soon distributed through thecommand. Among my letters was one from Colonel Burton, the father ofthe boy sergeants. He said he had been expecting to send for his sonsby this mail, but additional detached service had been required of himwhich might delay their departure from Whipple for another month, ifnot longer. He informed me that a detail I had received to duty asprofessor of military science and tactics in a boys' military schoolhad been withheld by the department commander until my services couldbe spared at Fort Whipple, and that he thought the next mail, or theone following it, would bring an order relieving me and ordering meEast. This would enable me to leave for the coast about the first weekin November.

  Frank and Henry shared my quarters with me, and that evening, seatedbefore an open fire, I read their father's letter, and remarked thatperhaps I should be able to accompany them to San Francisco, and, ifthe colonel consented to their request to go to the military schoolwith me, we might take the same steamer for Panama and New York.

  "Oh, won't that be too fine for anything!" exclaimed the youngersergeant. "Then I'll not have to leave Vicky here, after all."

  Vic, upon hearing her name called, left her rug at my feet and placedher nose on Henry's knee, and the boy stroked and patted her in hisusual affectionate manner.

  "Then you have been dreading to leave the doggie?" I asked.

  "Yes; I dream all sorts of uncomfortable things about her. She's introuble, or I am, and I cannot rescue her and she cannot help me.Usually we are parting, and I see her far off, looking sadly back atme."

  "Henry is not the only one who dreads to part with Vic," said Frank."We boys can never forget the scenes at Los Valles Grandes, Laguna,and the Rio Carizo. She saved our lives, helped recover Chiquita, andshe helped rescue Manuel, Sapoya, and Henry from the Navajos."

  "Yes; but for her I might have lost my brother at La
Roca Grande,"remarked Henry. "That was probably her greatest feat. Nice littledoggie--good little Vicky--are you really to go to San Francisco andthe East with us?"

  "I believe if I only had Sancho back, and Henry had Chiquita, I shouldbe perfectly happy," observed the elder brother.

  After a slight pause, during which the boy seemed to have relapsedinto his former depression, Henry asked:

  "Do they have cavalry drill at that school?"

  "Yes, the superintendent keeps twenty light horses, and allows some ofthe cadets to keep private animals. All are used in drill."

  "And if we get our ponies back, I suppose we shall have to leave themhere. Do you think, sir, there is any chance of our seeing themagain?" asked Frank.

  "Not unless some one can go to La Paz for them. Captain Bayard isgoing to see me after supper about a plan of his to retake them."

  "I wonder what officer he will send?"

  "Perhaps I shall go."

  "Father could never stand the expense of sending them to the States, Isuppose," said Henry, despondently.

  "They could easily be sent to the Missouri River without cost," Iobserved.

  "How, please?"

  "There is a quartermaster's train due here in a few weeks. It wouldcost nothing to send the ponies by the wagon-master to Fort Union, andthen they could be transferred to another train to Fort Leavenworth."

  "Frank, I've a scheme!" exclaimed the younger boy.

  "What is it?"

  "If Mr. Duncan finds Sancho and Chiquita, let's send them to ManuelPerea and Sapoya on the Rio Grande. When they go to the militaryschool they can take our horses and theirs, and we'll join thecavalry."

  "That's so," said Frank. "Manuel wrote that if he went to school heshould cross the plains with his uncle, Miguel Otero, who is afreighter. He could take the whole outfit East for nothing. Therewould remain only the cost of shipping them from Kansas City to theschool."

  "Yes, but before you cook a hare you must catch him," said I.

  "And our two hares are on the other side of the Xuacaxella[1] Desert,"said Frank, despondently. "I suppose there is small chance of our everseeing them again."

  [Footnote 1: Pronounced Hwar-car-hal-yar.]

  Our two boy sergeants had found life in Arizona scarcely monotonous,for the hostile Apaches made it lively enough, compelling us to builda defensible post and look well to the protection of our stock. A fewyears later a large force, occupying many posts, found it difficult tomaintain themselves against those Indians, so it cannot seem strangeto the reader that our small garrison of a hundred soldiers shouldfind it difficult to do much more than act on the defensive. Closeconfinement to the reservation chafed the boys.

  A ride to Prescott, two miles distant, was the longest the boys hadtaken alone. Two weeks before this chapter opens they had been invitedto dine with Governor Goodwin, the Governor of the Territory, and hehad made their call exceedingly pleasant. When, at an advanced hour inthe evening, the boys took leave of their host and went to the stablefor their horses, they found them gone, with their saddles andbridles.

  Inquiries made next day in town elicited the information that twonotorious frontier scamps, Texas Dick and Juan Brincos, an Americanand Mexican, were missing, and it was the opinion of civil andmilitary authorities that they had stolen the ponies. The boys tookVic to the Governor's, and, showing her the tracks of her equinefriends, she followed them several miles on the Skull Valley trail. Itwas plainly evident that the thieves had gone towards the RioColorado.

  After supper I accompanied the commanding officer to his quarters. Hetold me that the express had brought him a communication from thedepartment commander, stating that, since Arizona had been transferredto the Department of the Pacific, our stores would hereafter beshipped from San Francisco to the mouth of the Rio Colorado, and upthat stream by the boats of the Colorado Steam Navigation Company toLa Paz. He said he had decided to send me to La Paz to makearrangements with a freighter for the transportation of the suppliesfrom the company's landing to Fort Whipple.

  "And while you are in La Paz," said the captain, "look after thosehorse-thieves, and turn them over to the civil authorities; but,whether you capture them or not, be sure to bring back the boys'ponies."

  "What do you think about allowing the boys to go with me?"

  "No doubt they would like it, for life has been rather monotonous tothem for some time, especially since they lost their horses. Think itwould be safe?"

  "No Indians have been seen on the route for some time."

  "The 'calm before the storm,' I fear."

  "The mail-rider, Hudson, has seen no signs for a long time."

  "So he told me. The excursion would be a big treat to the lads, and,with a good escort and you in command, Duncan, I think they will bein no danger. Tell the adjutant to detail a corporal and any twelvemen you may select, and take an ambulance and driver."

  "Shall I go by Bill Williams Fork or across the Xuacaxella?"

  "The desert route is the shortest, and the courier says there is waterin the Hole-in-the-Plain. There was a rainfall there last week. Thatwill give you water at the end of each day's drive."

  I returned to my rooms and looked over an itinerary of the route, witha schedule of the distances, and other useful information. Aftermaking myself familiar with all its peculiarities, I told Frank andHenry that if they desired to do so they might accompany me.

  They were overjoyed at the prospect. Henry caught Vic by the forepawsand began to waltz about the room. Then, sitting down, he held herhead up between his palms and informed her that she was going to bringback Sancho and Chiquita.

  "I do not intend to take Vic, Henry," I said.

  "Not take Vic? Why not, sir?"

  "The road is long and weary--six days going and six returning, over arough and dry region--and she will be in the way and a constant careto us."

  "But how are we going to find our horses without her? She always helpswhenever we are in trouble, and she will be sure to assist us in thisif we take her," said Sergeant Henry, emphatically.

  "She need be no care to you, sir," said the elder boy; "Henry and Iwill look after her."

  "I am sorry to disappoint you, boys, but I cannot take the dog. Shewill be left with Captain Bayard."

  This decision made the boys somewhat miserable for a time. Theycommiserated the dog over her misfortune, and then turned theirattention to preparations for the journey.

  "Have you ever been to La Paz?" asked Frank.

  "I have never been beyond Date Creek in that direction," I replied.

  "Is the Xuacaxella really a desert?"

  "Only in the rainless season. Grasses, cacti, and shrubbery notneeding much moisture grow there. One of the geological surveys callsit Cactus Plain. It is one hundred miles long. There is water in afissure of a mountain-spur on one side called the Cisternas Negras,or Black Tanks, but for the rest of the distance there was formerly nowater except in depressions after a rainfall, a supply that quicklyevaporated under a hot sun and in a dry atmosphere. A man named Tysonhas lately sunk a well thirty miles this side of La Paz."

  "It was at Black Tanks the expressman saw Texas Dick and Juan Brincoswith our ponies," said Henry. "What a queer name that is!--JuanBrincos, John Jumper, or Jumping Jack, as nearly every one calls him."

  "He is well named; he has been jumping stock for some years."

  "I thought Western people always hanged horse-thieves?"

  "Not when they steal from government. Western people are too apt toconsider army mules and horses common property, and they suppose yourponies belong to Uncle Sam."

  "Frank," said Henry, just before the boys fell asleep that night, "Ifelt almost sure we should recapture the ponies when I thought Vic wasgoing, but now I'm afraid we never shall see them again."