II
ATTACKED BY NAVAJOS
The six Navajos made no attempt to shoot the herder, although for sometime he was within easy rifle range. They contented themselves withdriving the cattle towards the southern section of the valley.
At the first alarm Sergeant Cunningham got the men into line without amoment's delay. He had hardly counted off when the report of thesentinel's rifle was heard, followed by his shouting, excitedly,"Indians! Indians! This way! This way!"
In the direction of the guard-house I saw the sentinel and guardgetting into line with great rapidity. They were gesticulating wildlyto us. Frank Burton, who was standing near me, shouted, "Henry, getyour carbine and fall in with me on the left!"
"Don't expose yourselves, boys," I said. "The colonel told me to keepyou out of danger."
"We are needed, sir," answered Frank, promptly, and the two youngstersinstantly placed themselves on the left of the line.
I broke the company to the rear through the intervals between thecabins. The men had only the marching allowance of ten rounds ofammunition, so I had a couple of boxes broken open with an axe, andcartridges were distributed to them. The two Mexicans joined us, andsteadily and rapidly we advanced up the slope to unite with the guard.
Scarcely two hundred yards distant we saw a compact body of over threehundred Indians. They were charging down upon us, and with a generaland frightful war-whoop they began firing.
We deployed as skirmishers. The men fired by volleys, shelteringthemselves behind bowlders, logs, and ridges.
Instantly, at the head of the mounted column, there was an emptying ofsaddles. The onset was suddenly checked, and the Indians broke intotwo divisions. Part of the force swept along the outer side of thehorseshoe ridge to the south, and the other part wheeled round to thenorth.
I met the attack by dividing my men into two divisions. The men movedalong the interior slopes, firing as they ran, and kept pace with theponies running to the extremities.
The Navajos had lost twenty men. A chief, who had been in the front ofthe fight throughout, had the utmost difficulty in holding them inclose column.
"That is the great chief, El Ebano," cried the elder Cordova, as heput his gun to his shoulder. Taking careful aim at the gray-hairedleader, he fired, and one of the most famous chieftains of the Navajosrolled from his saddle. The beautiful black horse he had been ridingran on towards us. With El Ebano dead, the Indians were dismayed. Amoment later they were in full retreat, and joined their comrades whohad stolen our cattle.
* * * * *
Our casualties were few. Sergeant Cunningham's scalp had been grazedalong the left side, Private Tom Clary had the lobe of an ear cut,Privates Hoey and Evans were wounded along the ribs, and CorporalFrank Burton had a bullet wound in the right shoulder.
The Indians had gathered in a compact body about three miles to thesouthward, evidently holding a council of war. Reflecting that theywould not be likely to repeat their attack immediately, I walked outwith the first sergeant and a few of the men to note what casualtieshad befallen the enemy, and learn if there were any wounded men inneed of assistance.
As I neared the place where the charge had been checked, I metCorporal Frank Burton leading a black pony, gently stroking his noseand talking soothingly to him, while the animal seemed half dividedbetween fear and newly awakened confidence.
"Oh, isn't he a beauty, sir!" exclaimed the boy--"isn't he just aperfect beauty!"
"He certainly is a very handsome horse," I answered, after walkingaround him and taking in all his graces and points. "Take him to thestable and we will see to what use we can put him."
"Do you think it would be possible for me to own him, sir?" inquiredthe boy, in an anxious voice.
"As spoil of war, corporal?"
"I suppose so, sir. I was first to capture him, you know."
Before I could reply to this we were startled by a loud whinny, alittle to the north, which was promptly answered by the black, and,looking in that direction, we saw a cream-colored pony, withhigh-erected head, looking anxiously in the direction of our captive.
"That seems to be a friend of your pony's," I said.
"Another beauty, too, sir! Can't we catch it for Henry?"
"Perhaps we can. It seems inclined to stay by this one. I see all theother loose ponies have joined the Indians. But wait now until we lookover the field."
We now turned our attention to the prostrate bodies of the fallenenemy. All were dead.
The body of El Ebano, clad in black buck-skin, ornamented with aprofusion of silver buttons, chains, and bracelets, lay face upward,his resolute, handsome countenance still in the embrace of death. Itold the men we would give him and his comrades a warrior's burial onthe morrow, and returned to camp to make it defensible against apossible night attack.
The advantage of numbers was decidedly on the side of the Indians, andI felt if they could show the firmness and dash of white men ourchances of repelling a resolute attack were small. Counting theMexicans and the boys, we numbered but forty-eight, to their threehundred or more.
We were in the centre of a large valley, with no knowledge of oursurroundings nor with any way out except the road by which we hadentered. Should we leave the protection of our ridge and cabins andtake to the open valley we should be at the mercy of our foes.
Even supposing we could pass out of the valley unmolested, there werethe forests and defiles, filled with natural ambuscades. We could nothope to pass them and reach the Rio Grande alive.
Only a few hours of daylight remained. Whatever was to be done inpreparation for defence must be done at once.
In the wood-yard there were tiers of dry pine-logs, many of them fourfeet in diameter, and all about twenty feet long. With drag ropes andby rolling we conveyed them to the points of the ridge and to each endof the guard-house, and erected effective barricades.
While this work was going on the two boys were busy in an attempt tocapture the cream-colored pony. Frank led the black towards it, whileHenry rattled the contents of a measure of corn and coaxed thecream-color in a tongue foreign to that with which the animals werefamiliar to approach and partake of it. Tired at last of what seemed avain attempt, the young corporal set the box before the black, whichat once began to munch the crackling corn, and the other pony,attracted by the sound, trotted up and placed her nose beside herfriend's. Instantly its bridle-rein was seized, and the lads uttered ashout of triumph and led the prizes to the stable.
From the top of the ridge I looked occasionally through my field-glassat the enemy. They still continued well to the south on the westernside of the brook. They had dismounted and appeared to be carrying onan animated consultation.
After a considerable interval of time, four of their number mounted,and, collecting the ten beeves, mule, and burro, which had beengrazing near by, drove them up and down in front of the camp, beyondrifle range. They made gestures for us to come and take them--aninvitation which, for obvious reasons, I declined to accept. I quiteagreed with Private Tom Clary, who, as he placed his brawny shoulderto a big log to roll it up the slope, remarked to his "bunky," PrivateGeorge Hoey, "That's an invitation, begorra, I don't fale loikeacciptin'."
"Ye'd niver make yer t'ilet for anither assimbly if ye did, Tom. Idon't think the lutinint will risk the comp'ny's hair in that way,"replied Hoey.
To have attempted to recover our stock would have necessitated adivision of our force, and the main body of the Navajos stood ready todash in and cut off a party making such a reckless move.
This was what they had originally attempted to accomplish, as I heardyears afterwards from a chief who took part in the raid.
Failing to draw us out in pursuit of our lost stock, the Navajos movedslowly away in the deepening dusk to a point close against the foreston the eastern side of the valley and nearly opposite our camp. Therethey built a row of five fires, which soon became, in the darkness,the only evidence of their presence.
I c
aused the sentinels to be increased, and, after dressing the woundsof the men and removing a bullet from Frank's shoulder, went to bedwithout undressing. After some half-hour of silence, Henry said:
"Mr. Duncan."
"Yes; what is it?"
"I'm going to name my pony Chiquita."
"And I'm going to name mine Sancho," added Frank.
"What are you going to do with the animals you brought here?" I asked.
"Turn them in in place of the two we captured," answered Henry.
"All right; for general utility. Good-night."
"Good-night. Thank you, sir."
Half an hour before midnight the sergeant of the guard aroused me toreport that strange noises could be heard from the rear of the camp.
I went to the top of the ridge and listened. A sound like the draggingof branches over the ground, with occasional pauses, fell upon myears. I sent for the elder Cordova, and he listened long, with an earclose to the ground. His opinion was that the Indians were creeping upfor another attack.
Orders were sent to Sergeant Cunningham to wake the men without noiseand assemble them at the barricades.
A little after midnight the moon rose over the mountains and bathedthe valley in a beautiful light.
As the moon cleared herself from the summits of the range and her raysfell upon the line of paling camp-fires of the Indians, my field-glassrevealed the fact that the raiders had departed. Ponies and riderswere gone. In the whole length and breadth of the Great Valley not aliving being was in sight outside the limit of our encampment.
An inspection to the rear, to the scene of the late conflict, revealedthe fact that the body of El Ebano and the group of dead warriorswhich lay about him at nightfall had been taken away. Their removalhad caused the rushing and creeping sounds we had heard.
Mounting my horse, and accompanied by four men upon the four ponies, Icrossed the valley to the Indian fires, but found nothing there exceptthe horns, hoofs, and entrails of our captured cattle. The flesh hadprobably been packed upon the Cordovas' mule and burro to ration araiding party into the valley of the Rio Grande.
A well-defined trail went back through the forest, which Cordovaafterwards assured me led to the town of Pina Blanca.
Returning to camp, I wrote a letter to the commanding general, givingan account of the attack and its repulse, and despatched it by theMexicans, who, taking cut-offs with which they were acquainted, andborrowing horses in relays at ranches on the way, delivered it nextevening at Santa Fe.
The general sent a hundred troopers to Los Valles Grandes, where theycame galloping into camp two evenings afterwards. As Captain Wardwellsprang from his saddle and wrung my hand, he exclaimed:
"God bless you, Duncan! I came out expecting to bury the bones of youand your men."
I was glad to see the California cavalry officers, and, during thethree days of their stay in the valley for rest after a forced march,did the honors to the best of my ability. On the day of theirdeparture the wagons returned loaded with supplies. Instructions werereceived to send back all but one wagon and six mules.
With the departure of cavalry and wagons, life in the valley settleddown to quiet routine. I spent some time in instructing my companions,according to an agreement I had made with their father. Not being aWest-Pointer, but a college graduate with a fair knowledge of Greekand Latin, and some other acquirements not considered of militaryutility, I was able to carry out a desire of the colonel and assistthe boys in preparing themselves for college.
We rarely received visits from the outside world. The nearest hamletwas an Indian pueblo, twenty-six miles away, in the Rio Jemez Valley,and representatives of the army seldom had occasion to visit ouroutposts. The mail arrived from Santa Fe every Saturday afternoon, andleft every Monday morning in the saddle-bags of two cavalryexpress-men.
To the soldiers life in the valleys was very pleasant. Duty was light,and there were no temptations to dissipation or to be out of quartersat night, and there were no confinements to the guard-house fordisorder. Evenings were spent over books and papers and quiet games,and the days in drill, repairing buildings, providing the fuel forwinter, hunting, and scouting.
As previously referred to, we were in a region of abundant game. Theboy corporals accompanied the hunting-parties, and became skilled inbringing down whatever they sighted. Henry, as well as Frank, shot hisbear, and soon our floor was covered with the skins of wolves,coyotes, bears, and catamounts, skilfully dressed and tanned by theCordovas.
And now I must introduce a principal character of my story, a valuedfriend who took a conspicuous part in our scouting and hunting, andwho, later on, did valuable service to myself and my youthfulcomrades.
Just as I was about to leave Santa Fe for Los Valles Grandes, theregimental adjutant--since a distinguished brigadier-general in thewar in the Philippines--gave me a beautiful young setter namedVictoriana, and called Vic for convenience. She was of caninearistocracy, possessing a fine pedigree, white and liver-colored, withmottled nose and paws, and a tail like the plume of Henry of Navarre.
The boys, soon after our arrival in the valleys, carrying out aconceit suggested by the letters "U.S." which are always branded uponthe left shoulder of all government horses and mules, marked with aweak solution of nitrate of silver upon Vic's white shoulder the samecharacters, and as long as she continued to live they were neverallowed to grow dim.
Vic came to me with no education, but plenty of capacity, and thecorporals and I spent much time during the long evenings and on thedays when we did not accompany the scouting and hunting parties, intraining her.
She learned to close the door if we simulated a shiver, to bring me myslippers when she saw me begin to remove my boots, to carry messagesto the first sergeant or the cook, to return to the camp from longdistances and bring articles I sent for.
Vic was an unerring setter and a fine retriever. She was taught not tobark when a sound might bring an enemy upon us, and she would followpatiently at my heels or those of either of the boys when told to doso and never make a break to the right or left.
Our repeated scoutings soon made us acquainted with every trail in andout of the valley. I obtained permission from department head-quartersto employ the elder Cordova as spy and guide, and he was of invaluableuse to us. He was able to show me a mountain-trail into the valley ofSan Antonio besides the one through La Puerta, which I kept in reservefor any desperate emergency which might make it necessary to useanother. We frequently went trout-fishing with an armed party, andcould pack a mule with fish in a few hours.
One morning, near the close of October, Cordova left the camp beforereveille on a solitary hunting-trip in order to reach Los Vallecitos,four miles to the south of our valley, before sunrise.
He had gone but half an hour, and I was dressing after firstbugle-call for reveille, when I was startled by the rapid approach ofsome one running towards my door. Presently the guide tumbled into thecabin, gasping:
"Muchos Navajos, teniente, muchos Navajos!" (Many Navajos, lieutenant,many Navajos!)
"Where are they, and how many?" I asked.
"About half a league over the ridge," pointing to the south. "Theychased me from the Los Vallecitos trail. They number about a hundred."
Without waiting for more definite information, I told the boys, whowere hastily getting into their clothes, to stay in the cabin, and,going for Sergeant Cunningham, ordered him to parade the company underarms without delay; then, taking my glass, I went to the top of theridge. Lying down before reaching the crest, I looked through thescreening grass and saw a party of eighty-three Indians, halted andapparently in consultation. They were in full war costume, and werepainted and feathered to the height of Indian skill.