VII
A SWOLLEN STREAM AND STOLEN PONY
It was our custom at all camps to park the supply-train in the form ofan oval, with the tongues of the wagons outward and the wheels locked.An entrance, the width of a wagon, was left at one end.
When, therefore, it became certain that a tempest was about to breakupon us, using the boy corporals as messengers, the chief wagon-masterreceived orders from me to drive up the mules and corral them withinthe circle of wagons, and the commissary stock was hurried under theshelter of a rocky mesa west of the camp. All this was to prevent astampede should the coming tempest be accompanied by wind and hail.
Tent-pins were driven in deeper, guys tightened, cavalry horses drivenup, hobbled, and secured to picket ropes, loose articles thrown intowagons, and every precaution taken to be in readiness for the storm.
We had not long to wait before the rain came down in torrents. In anincredibly short time the water was flowing swiftly down the slope tothe river. It gathered against our tent, and finding the frailstructure must go, we seized everything portable, dashed into thefurious downpour, and climbed to the tops of surrounding bowlders.
Through the sheets of rain we could dimly see the cavalry horsesstanding knee-deep in water, men looking out of the covered wagons,into which they had crawled for shelter, or standing, like ourselves,on the bowlders, their bodies covered with ponchos and gum blankets.Wall-tents, the sides of which had been looped up when pitched, stoodwith the flood flowing through them; cranes, upon which hung lines ofkettles in preparation for dinner, standing alone, their fires andfirewood swept away. The whole country as far as we could see was onebroad sheet of rushing water, and the river, which was little morethan a rill when we crossed it a few hours before, now rolled andboomed, a torrent several fathoms deep and dirtier than ever.
The storm continued little over half an hour, and with the return ofsunlight the surface water rapidly disappeared. Demoralized tents werethen set up, baggage and bedding examined, and the wet articlesexposed to the sun; and before night, except for the booming of theriver, little remained to remind us that we had been through a storm.
Just before retreat, Frank, Henry, and I stood on the bank of theriver watching the trunks and branches of trees rush past, and theoccasional plunge of a mass of earth undermined by the current.
"Well," said Frank, after silently contemplating the scene a fewmoments, "what you told us about crossing a stream before camping uponit has proved true, sir, and very quickly, too."
"Yes; I think even the paymaster and surgeon must be congratulatingthemselves they are on this side of that flood," I replied.
Next morning we resumed our march at the usual hour, and passed over23.28 miles to a deserted Mexican town and Indian pueblo.
On the following day we crossed a chain of hills into the valley ofthe Rio Gallo. As we debouched from a deep ravine we caught sight ofthe pueblo of Laguna, illuminated by the sun, just rising, behind us.The town stands upon a rocky eminence overlooking the river, whichwaters, by irrigation, its large and well-cultivated valley.
When within four miles of it I proposed to the boys that we shouldhasten forward in advance of the wagons and visit the town. Wegalloped on, and were hospitably received by the Indian governor, whodid the honors of the community in person. He showed us the interiorof the terraced buildings, and conducted us through the subterranean_estufa_ where, for centuries before the invention of thefriction-match, the Indians kept their sacred fire--fire made sacredthrough the difficulty of obtaining it or rekindling it when onceextinguished--and so watched day and night by sleepless sentinels.
When we entered the town we left our horses hitched to the willows onthe bank of the irrigating ditch, near the wall of the first house,and I ordered the dog Vic to remain with them. Three-quarters of anhour afterwards Vic looked into the _estufa_ from above, gave threesharp barks, and dashed away.
We were so deeply interested in the examination of a lot of scalps,quaint pottery, weapons of warfare, etc., that we paid no attention toher. Presently she appeared a second time, repeated her barking, andran off again. A few moments later the dog again showed herself at thesky-light, and thrusting her head downward continued to bark until Iapproached the foot of the ladder. As I did so she uttered a sound ofanxiety, or distress, and disappeared.
"Something must be the matter with our animals, boys," I remarked."Frank, go and see what has happened, while Henry and I take leave ofour host."
Corporal Frank climbed the ladder two rungs at a step, while Henry andI remained to thank the governor for his kindness and bestow sometrifling gifts upon the rabble of children that had followed usclosely throughout our visit. We then ascended the ladder and startedfor the place where we had left our animals.
Hurrying down the narrow alley we met Frank, who was nearlybreathless with exertion and excitement. While yet at a considerabledistance from us he shouted:
"Chiquita's gone! Can't see her anywhere!"
Hastening to the willows I found that Henry's pony was indeed missing.I thought she had simply broken loose, and would be found somewhere inthe neighborhood, so mounted and made a hasty search. I saw our trainseveral miles away, toiling up a long ascent, but there was no sign ofa riderless pony on the road. On my return to the willows Henry said:
"Chiquita did not break away, sir; her halter-strap was too strong,and I tied it with a cavalry hitch. She must have been unfastened bysome one. Perhaps these Pueblos have stolen her."
"She may have been stolen, as you suggest," I replied, "but not by thePueblos. We were their guests, and our property was sacred."
The Indians, seeing our trouble, gathered about us, and among them Isaw the governor. Making my way to him, I explained what had happened.He turned to his people and addressed them in his own tongue. A younggirl approached and said something, at the same time pointing to thesouthwest.
Looking in the direction indicated, over a long stretch of brokencountry, bordered on the west by an irregular range of sandstonemesas, I thought I saw a moving object near the foot of a ruggedbluff, several miles distant; but before I could adjust my field-glassthe object had turned the bluff and disappeared. One thing, however, Idid see--it was Vic, sitting on a knoll less than a mile from thepueblo.
"I wonder we have not thought of Vic's absence all this time," I said;"there she is, on the trail of the thief, wondering why we do notpursue."
"The good doggie," said Henry. "She did her best to tell us Chiquitawas stolen, and she means to do her best to retake her."
Turning to the governor, I asked, "Are there any Navajos about here?"
"There is a large band in the _cienaga_, three leagues from here. Thelost pony will be found there."
I directed Henry to run after the train and report what had happened."Wave your handkerchief," said I, "and some one will come to meetyou. If it should be a mounted man, take his animal, overtake CaptainBayard, tell him all you know, and say that Frank and I have gone inpursuit, and that I request him to send a detachment of cavalry tolook us up."
Henry started off with a celerity begotten of his anxiety at the lossof his pony and the fear that his brother might fall into dangerunless a body of troopers followed him closely.
Frank and I then galloped towards Vic. As soon as the dog saw usapproaching she sprang into the air, shook herself in an ecstasy ofdelight, then put her nose to the earth, and went steadily on inadvance, threading her way through clumps of sage-brush and greasewoodand along the ravines.
The tracks of a shod pony satisfied us that we were on the trail ofChiquita and her Navajo rider. The boy had kept well down in theravines and depressions, in order to screen himself from observationand possible pursuers. We, however, were not obliged to follow histracks; Vic did that, and we took the general direction from her,cutting across turnings and windings, and making much better progressthan the thief could have done.
An hour's ride brought us to the bluff behind which I had seen anobject disappear. Vic turned
it and began to ascend the almost dry bedof the stream, in the bottom of which I could see occasionaldepressions at regular distances, as if made by a horse at a trot.Soon the brook enlarged, becoming a flowing stream, and the trackswere no longer visible.
That the brook flowed from the _cienaga_, or marsh, where the Navajoswere rendezvoused, was an easy inference. The Indian boy wasendeavoring to reach that place with the stolen pony. Directing Frankto keep up the left side of the stream, and to look for tracksindicating that Chiquita had left its bed, I took the right side andhastened on.
Willows now began to appear along the banks, showing that we hadreached a permanent flow of water. Twice we came to masses of bowlderswhich made it impossible for a horse to travel in the stream, and wefound that the pony had skirted them.
We had now reached a point where a small brook entered the larger onefrom the right. We dismounted at the confluence to make anobservation. Vic suddenly began to bark furiously; then a yelp and acontinued cry of pain showed that the dog was hurt, and presently sheappeared with an arrow through the thick of her neck.
Advancing cautiously I caught sight of Chiquita in a cleft of the rockat my left, and an Indian boy standing behind her and aiming an arrowover the saddle. A sharp twang, and the missile flew through my hairbetween my right ear and my hat-rim. The boy then sprang forward, andraised a knife as if to hamstring the pony. But it was not to be, fora carbine spoke, and the raised arm of the Indian fell at his side.
"Well done, Frank!" I called.
We ran forward to capture the young Navajo, but he quickly disappearedbehind a large rock and was seen no more. Returning to the main brookwith Chiquita, we tied the horses to the willows and began a searchfor Vic. I called her by all the pet names to which she wasaccustomed, but received no response. I searched over as great adistance as I dared, with a consciousness that a band of Navajos wasnot far distant.
Reluctantly abandoning our search, we were preparing to return to thetrain and escort when we descried a large war-party of Indians ridingtowards us from the direction of the _cienaga_. It was at once evidentthey saw us, for, raising a terrific war-whoop, their irregular massbroke for us in a furious charge.
Death certainly awaited us if captured, and this thought prompted usto leave our exposed position instantly. Leading Chiquita, and tellingFrank to follow, I dashed down the stream in the direction of the FortWingate road.
As we flew along, feeling positive that the Indians would overtake us,I eagerly surveyed the rocky wall on our left, hoping to find a breakin which we could shelter ourselves and hold the enemy in check untilour friends arrived. But no opening appeared, and it seemed impossiblefor us to reach Laguna alive.
On we went into the dense bushes, a hail of bullets and a rush ofarrows about our ears. But at this moment the clear notes of a cavalrytrumpet sounded "deploy," and the California cavalry crashed throughthe willows and we were saved. They broke into a skirmish-line behindus, but only a few shots were fired and the Navajos were gone.
Being an escort, we could not delay for further operations against theenemy. Our duty was to return at once to the train. Frank and I wereboth uninjured, but a bullet had raised the chevron on the boy'ssleeve, and another had shattered the ivory hilt of his revolver.
The volunteers dismounted for a rest, and I took the opportunity tomake a further search for Vic, my faithful companion and friend.Leaving my horse with Frank, I started towards the place where I hadlast seen her.
As I descended a shallow ravine to the willow-clad brook I came uponan unexpected sight, and paused to witness it. On his knees, close tothe water, his back towards me, was Corporal Henry. Extended at hisleft side was Vic, held closely under his left arm, her plumy tailhanging dejectedly in my direction. An occasional dispirited wagshowed that she appreciated the kindness being shown her. The boy wasevidently busy at something that elicited from the animal, every nowand then, faint cries of pain. I heard something snap, and saw him laytwo parts of an arrow on the ground to his right; then he drew ahandkerchief from his pocket, dipped it in the brook, and apparentlywashed a wound.
All the time the boy could be heard addressing his patient in soothingtones, occasionally leaning his face against her head caressingly."Poor little Vicky! Nice, brave doggie! There, there; I will not hurtyou more than I can help. They can't shoot you again, girlie, for lotsof your friends are here now. You shall ride back to the train onChiquita with me. We'll own Chiquita together after this."
I felt a little delicacy about breaking in upon this scene and lettingthe boy know I had overheard all his fond talk to Vic, so withdrewinto a clump of bushes and began calling the dog.
Henry promptly answered: "Here she is, sir. This way. She wants tocome, but I think she had better not."
"Is she much hurt?" I asked, approaching them.
"Not dangerously, sir. This arrow passed through the top of her neck.I notched it and broke it, so as not to be obliged to draw the barb orplume through the wound. She is weak from her long run and loss ofblood. The wound might be bound up if her collar was off."
"I will remove it and not put it on again until the sore heals," Ianswered, and, taking a key from my pocket, I took off the collar andassisted in dressing the wound.
After petting Vic for a while, and using quite as much "baby talk" indoing so as Henry had in dressing the wound, I asked the boy how hecame to return with the cavalry.
"I ran ahead, as you told me to, sir, and the wagon-master came tomeet me. He lent me his mule, and I rode on to Captain Bayard and mademy report. The captain sent Lieutenant Baldwin and his men, and lentme a spare horse to come along as guide."
"Have you seen Chiquita?"
"At a distance. Is she all right?"
"Yes, but very tired. Let us join the troop, for it is time we were onour way to the train."
Our return ride was at a walk. Henry turned his cavalry horse over toa trooper to be led, and mounted Chiquita with Vic in his arms.Arrived in camp he took the dog to the surgeon for treatment, and in afew days she was as lively as ever.