Tonio, Son of the Sierras: A Story of the Apache War

  CHAPTER X.

  The night had gone by without alarm. No further signals were seen. Norunners came in. Poor Mrs. Bennett, under the influence of somesoothing medicine, had fallen asleep. The doctor, coming in late from avisit to the hospital, found Harris still wakeful, but not so feverish,and 'Tonio, worn and wearied, stretched on a Navajo blanket, seemedsleeping soundly on the side piazza, just without the door. The generaland Willett had sat and smoked, with an occasional toddy, until afterthe midnight call of the sentries, the former still expectant of thereturn of Sanchez; the latter pondering in mind certain theories ofWickham as to the Apache situation, to which at first he had paidlittle heed. If Wickham were right, then Sanchez might never havereached Prescott. If so, the general need never have to amend thatreport.

  And that the matter troubled Archer more than a little Willett was nottoo pleased to see. Moreover, it was evident that not only Bentley, thesurgeon, but Strong, the young adjutant, Bucketts, the veteran cavalrysubaltern doing duty as post quartermaster, and the three companyofficers of Archer's regiment stationed at Almy--all were determined toconsider Harris decidedly in the light of the hero of the recentepisode. It was a matter Willett would not discuss with them, nor, whenthey somewhat pointedly referred to Harris and his part in the affair,was it Willett's policy to say aught in deprecation. As "therepresentative of the commanding general" temporarily at the post, andobserving the condition of affairs, it was his proper function to giveall men his ear and none his tongue, to hear everything and saynothing. But the adjutant knew, and had not been able to keep entirelyto himself, the fact that Sanchez was the bearer of a report adverse toLieutenant Harris--that no modification thereof had been prepared--evenafter Harris was brought in dangerously wounded, the result of hisdaring effort to rescue an unfortunate woman from a fearful fate. Theadjutant had gone so far as to hint to that much-loved lieutenant-colonelof infantry, Brevet Brigadier-General Archer, that he should be glad towrite at his dictation a report setting Harris right, as surely as theother had set him wrong, and for the first time Strong found hiscommanding officer petulant and testy. It was exactly what Archerhimself thought it his duty to do, yet he was annoyed that any one elseshould think so. Moreover, he had taken counsel with Willett, andWillett had said that he would be the last man to deny a classmate andcomrade any honor justly his due, nor would he stand in the way ofGeneral Archer's writing anything he saw fit, _but_, as the officerpresent on the spot and cognizant of all the circumstances connectedwith Harris's going, _he_ had yet a report to make to the departmentcommander.

  "Frankly, general," said he, "I do not wish to say what I know unless Ihave to--and your changing your report might make it necessary."

  This had occurred the night before 'Tonio's coming, and now, in thesilence of midnight, as the two sat smoking on the veranda, whileLilian lay in her little white room listening in wordless rapture, insweet unrest, to the murmurous sound of the deep voice that hadenthralled her senses, while Mrs. Archer, wife and mother, slept thesleep of the just and the wearied, the old general turned again to thatsubject that weighed so heavily on his heart and soul.

  "By heaven, Willett," he said, "here it is midnight and no Sanchez. Ifhe isn't in by mail-time to-morrow I'll have to send a party--or else acourier--to Prescott."

  "Does the mail usually reach you Sunday, sir?"

  "Hasn't failed once since my coming! They send it by way of McDowell,over on the Verde. If Sanchez isn't here, or the mail either, I'll knowthat 'Tonio was right, that we're hemmed in, and that they have killedour messengers. And they are expecting to hear from me athead-quarters, and probably wondering at my silence. Another thing tobe explained."

  "Another?" said Willett.

  "Another. Of course I must straighten out that matter about Harris. Iown I sent it under wrong im--impressions. I thought at first he hadignored my authority, but that was unjust. The more I think of it, themore I blame myself."

  "Then--how you must blame _me_!"

  "Well--no! You doubtless feel that he did ignore you and your authority,though I own it wasn't my intention that you should assume _command_over him. You are both young and you perhaps judge more sharply than I,but I've learned to know the fallibility of human judgment. I'vesuffered too much from it myself, and the fact stares me in the facethat Harris knew just what ought to be done, and went and did it. Herescued that poor creature at the risk of his life, and he--deservesthe credit of it."

  Willett was silent a moment. He seemed reluctant to speak. Finally andslowly he said:

  "General Archer, it is an ungracious thing to pull down another man'sreputation, especially when, as in this case, Harris and I areclassmates and I, at least, am _his_ friend. And, therefore, I stillprefer to say nothing. I was in hopes that Captain Stannard and hisfellows might be back by this time, with the Bennett boys for onething, and with--the truth for another."

  "What truth?" demanded Archer.

  "The real truth--as I look upon it--the real credit of that rescue, youwill find, sir, belongs to Stannard and his troop, with such little aidas they may have received from those who advised and guided them--thescouts. _But_ for Stannard the hostiles would have gotten away, notonly with Mrs. Bennett, but with Harris. Harris made a hare-brainedattempt to rescue her single-handed. He only succeeded in running hisown neck into a noose. Your wisdom, and God's mercy, sent Stannard justin the nick of time, and there's the whole situation in a nut shell."

  For a moment Archer was silent. Who does not like to hear praise of hiswisdom, especially when self-inclined to doubt it?

  "But the doctor tells me Harris had the Indians on the run before everStannard was sighted--that he and his handful of scouts alone attacked,defeated and drove them, that his scouts were chasing them and weremistaken themselves for hostiles, and were fired at by Stannard's menat long range."

  "Yes," said Willett, with calm deliberation. "That is just the story Ishould expect Harris to tell."

  And sore at heart, and far from satisfied, the general suggested anightcap, and Willett presently left him, though not, as itsubsequently transpired, for the adjutant's quarters and for bed. Itwas late the following day before his next appearance near the Archers.

  Sunday morning had come, as peaceful and serene as any that ever brokeon New England village, and Sunday noon, hot and still, and many anhour since early sun up anxious eyes had scanned the old McDowelltrail, visible in places many a mile before it disappeared among thefoothills of the Mazatzal, but not a whiff of dust rewarded the eagerwatchers.

  Archer's binocular hung at the south-west pillar of the porch, andanother swung at the northward veranda of the old log hospital. Theroad to Dead Man's Canon wound along the west bank of the stream,sometimes fording it for a short cut, and that road, the one by whichSanchez should have come, was watched wellnigh as closely as the other.Nothing up to luncheon time had been seen or heard of human beingmoving without the limits of the post; nothing by Lilian Archer of hergallant of the night before.

  In times of such anxiety men gather and compare notes. The guard hadbeen strengthened during the night, and its members sat long in themoonlight, chatting in low tone. The officer of the day, making therounds toward two o'clock, noted that the lights were still burning atthe store, and, sauntering thither, found a game going on in the commonroom--Dago seeking solace from his sorrows in limited monte with threeor four employes and packers, while in the officers' room was stillanother, with only one officer present and participating. To CaptainBonner's surprise Lieutenant Willett, aide-de-camp, was "sitting in"with Bill Craney, the trader, Craney's brother-in-law and partner, Mr.Watts, Craney's bookkeeper, Mr. Case, a man of fair education andinfirm character who had never, it was said, succeeded in holding anyother position as long as six months. Here, as Craney admitted, hehadn't enough to occupy him three weeks out of the four, and, so longas he could tend to that much, he was welcome to "tank up" when hepleased. That clerk had been a gentleman, he said, and behaved himselflike one now, even when he was d
runk. The officers treated him withmuch consideration, but to no liquor. Willett, knowing nothing of hispast, had been doing the opposite, and Mr. Case's monthly spree wasapparently starting four days ahead of time. Moreover, Mr. Case seemedinspired by some further agent, for though unobtrusive, almost, asever, he was possessed with a strange, feverish impulse to pit himselfagainst Willett, and almost to ignore all others in the game. A fifthplayer was a stranded prospector whom Craney knew, and presumablyvouched for. Luck must have been going Willett's way in violation ofthe adage, at the time of Bonner's entrance, for the table in front ofhim was stacked high with chips, and four men of the five wereapparently getting excited.

  Bonner seldom played anything stronger than casino and cribbage, nordid he often waste an hour, night or day, in the card room. This night,however, he was wakeful, and had seen that which even made him a triflenervous. He had visited every sentry post, finding his men alert andvigilant. 'Tonio's words had already been communicated to the guard,and self-preservation alone prompted every man to keep a sharp lookout.Bonner had noted as he stepped out on the side porch of his quarters,where hung the big earthen olla in its swathing bands, that 'Tonio lay,apparently sound asleep, at the side door of the doctor's quarters, andBonner found himself pondering over the undoubted devotion of thissilent, lonely son of the desert to the young soldier lying woundedwithin. Bonner left him as he found him. 'Tonio had not stirred. Barelytwenty minutes thereafter, as he finished examination of the twosentries on the north front, and came down along the bank at the rearof the officers' quarters, he found Number Five, a Civil War veteranand, therefore, not easily excited, kneeling at the edge, with hisrifle at "ready," gazing steadily toward a clump of willows at thestream bed, some five hundred feet away, listening so intently that theofficer halted, rather than mortify him by coming on his postunchallenged. The brilliant moonlight made surrounding objects almostas light as day, and Bonner could see nothing unusual or unfamiliaralong the sandy flat to the east. So, finally, he struck his scabbardagainst a rock by way of attracting Number Five's attention, andinstantly the challenge came.

  "What was the matter, Five?" asked Bonner, after being advanced andrecognized, and the answer threw little light upon the subject.

  "I wish I knew, sir, but there was some one--crying--down there in thebush--not five minutes ago."

  "Crying! You're crazy, Kerrigan!"

  "That's what _I_ said, sir, when first I heard it, but--whist now!"

  Both men bent their ears--the veteran sentry, the veteran companycommander. Both had spent years in service, in the South in the wardays, in the West ever since, and neither was easily alarmed.

  As sure as they stood there somebody was sobbing--a low,heart-breaking, half-stifled sound, down there somewhere among thewillows, that for two hundred yards, at least, lined the stream. "Comewith me," said the captain instantly, and together the two wentplunging down the sandy slope and out over the flats beneath, and intothe shadows at the brink, and up and down the low bank between thefords, and not a living being could they find.

  "What first caught your ear?" asked Bonner, as together, finally, theycame plodding back.

  "Sure, I heard the captain come out on his side porch for a drink atthe olla, sir, and saw him step over and look at the doctor's placebefore starting for the guard-house, and I knew he'd be around this wayand was thinking to meet him up yonder where Number Four is, when Iheard Six down here whistling to me, and when I went Six said as howthe dogs way over at the store was barking a lot, and he said had Iseen or heard anything in the willows--he's that young fellow that'listed back at Wickenburg after the stage holdup--and while we wastalkin' he grabbed me and said, 'Listen! There's Indians out on thebluff! I heard 'em singing.' I told him he was scared, but when I cameback along the bank I could have sworn I saw something go flashing intothe willows from this side, an' then came the cryin', and then you,sir."

  Bonner turned straightway to his own quarters, to the side porch at thedoctor's--and 'Tonio was gone. Peering within the open doorway, he sawthe attendant nodding in his chair by the little table where dimlyburned the nightlamp, close to the cot where Harris lay in feverishslumber. Next, the captain started for the post of Number Six, near thesouth-east corner of the rectangle, and there was the corporal and therelief, just marching away with "the young feller that 'listed inWickenburg." A new sentry, another old soldier, had taken his place.There was nothing to do but tell him to keep a sharp lookout and reportanything strange he saw or heard, particularly to be on lookout for'Tonio. Then he pushed on after the relief, and then, catching sight ofthe lights at the trader's, strode briskly over there and stopped a fewminutes, asking himself should he tell Willett what had been heard, andincidentally to watch the game. Willett, however, was engrossed. Hiseyes were dilated and his cheeks were flushed, albeit his demeanor wasalmost affectedly cool and nonchalant, and Bonner had not been therefive minutes before a queer thing happened. Willett, playing inremarkable luck, had raised heavily before the draw. Case, withunsteady hand, had shoved forward an equal stack. The prospector andCraney shook their heads and dropped out. Only three were playing whenWillett, dealing, helped the cards according to their demands, and forhimself "stood pat." It was too much for the brother-in-law, but thebookkeeper, who had been playing mainly against Willett, and apparentlyfoolishly, now just as foolishly bet his little stack, for without asecond's hesitation Willett raised him seventy-five dollars. It was aplay calculated to drive out a small-salaried clerk. It was neither agenerous nor a gentleman's play. It was, moreover, the highest play yetseen at Almy, where men were of only moderate means. Even Craney lookedtroubled, and Watts and the prospector exchanged murmured remonstrance.Then all were amazed when Case drew forth a flat wallet from an innerpocket, tossed it on the table, and simply said, "See--and raise_you_."

  Now there was audible word of warning. Watts looked as though he wishedto interpose, but was checked instantly by Case himself. "Been savingthat for--funer'l expenses," said he doggedly, "but I'm backin' thishand for _double_ what's in that."

  Craney lifted the wallet, shook it, and three fifty-dollar billsfluttered out upon the table. Willett looked steadily at Case onemoment before he spoke:

  "Isn't this a trifle high for a gentleman's game?" said he.

  "That's what they said at Vancouver, two years ago, when you bluffedout that young banker's son."

  Willett half rose from his chair. "I _thought_ I'd seen your facebefore," said he.

  "What I want to know," said the bookkeeper instantly, all deference torank or station vanished from tone and manner, "is, do you see my raisenow?"

  There was a moment's silence, during which no man present seemed tobreathe. Then slowly Willett spoke:

  "No, a straight isn't worth it." Whereupon there was a moment ofembarrassed silence as the stakes were swept across the blanket-coveredtable, then a guffaw of rejoiceful mirth from the prospector. Case, asthough carelessly, threw down his cards, face upwards, and there wasnot so much as a single pair.

  "The drinks are on me, oh, yes," said he, "but the joke's on thelieutenant."

  Yet when Bonner left, five minutes later and the game again was goingon, there was no mirth in it. Nor was there mirth when the sun camepeeping over the eastward range this cloudless Sabbath morning, shamingthe bleary night lights at the store--the bleary eyes at the table.Bonner found them at it still an hour after reveille, and ventured tolay a hand on Willett's shoulder. "Can I speak with you a moment?" hesaid.

  Willett rose unsteadily, but with dignity unshaken by change offortune. He had lost as heavily, by this time, as earlier he had won.

  "May I be pardoned for suggesting that you would be wise to get out ofthis and--a few hours' sleep? The general is up and worried. 'Tonio isgone!"