CHAPTER XIII.
That was a stirring night at Almy. The general, contrary to habit, wasvery grave and quiet, saying little, drinking nothing, even thecustomary toddy being declined. The doctor, also contrary to habit, wasdrinking a little and thinking a lot, but saying nothing. An abstemiousman, as a rule, and a temperate man at all times, he seemed inclined tosample his Monongahela more than once before midnight, when, havinggotten his patients to sleep, he tried to do likewise. "They are on aneven keel again," said Bonner, referring to the two casuals, "and I amnot sorry to see it." Evidently there had been comparison of notesbetween Strong and Bonner, and an agreement of some kind, for both heldthat Willett had exceeded his authority, as well as his discretion, inconducting a single-handed charge on an outnumbering enemy, secretlyhidden behind rocks and ridges. Strong's men said that LieutenantWillett, spurring hard, had called across the stream for them to followhim, and three of those nearest the bank plunged through the shallowsand were barely three hundred yards behind him when, from their rightfront among the rocks at the foot of a bluff, the shot was fired thatwounded the lieutenant's horse, which veered at once and ran away downamong the willows. No, they hadn't charged. They turned, too. For allthey knew, there might have been a thousand Apaches in hiding there,and when the lieutenant turned they turned. It was not until LieutenantStrong and the rest of the men came up with them that they pushed aheadand found the officer and his horse lying among the rocks by thestream. Willett had been hurled out of saddle when the frenzied beastwent suddenly down, and there he lay, stunned and bleeding, while thepoor brute was quivering in the agonies of death.
"Did you see anything of 'Tonio?" Strong was asked, as a matter ofcourse.
"Not so much as a shred of his breechclout," said Strong, "nor of anyother Indian nearer than a mile away, and they were running for therocks. It was too dark to do any trailing." But for the shot thatkilled Willett's horse, and the tremendous tales of the courier scouts,Strong would have been inclined to say there were not a dozen Indiansin the north valley. "If there were more," said he, "and if they werereally hostile, even though afoot as they were, was it likely that twocouriers on worn-out horses could have escaped them? No," said Strong."There is something about it we don't understand, neither does Willett,for all he's so positive."
But Strong admitted that two things puzzled him. The horse wascertainly shot, and Willett's Colt, the handsome revolver that he setsuch store by, was certainly gone. Willett, when he came to, had askedfor it. He swore that he had drawn it from the holster, and was ridingat "raise pistol" when the shot was fired--that he clutched it as hismaddened horse tore blindly down the slope, and then, among the rocks,stumbled, staggered and fell. Now revolver, holster, "thimble belt" ofcartridges--all were gone.
The couriers were made to tell their tale while the doctor and hisassistants were getting Willett to bed, and Willett, from severalconditions, was not easy to soothe and quiet. He had not been sparingof the _spiritus frumenti_ that went with other medical suppliesin the ambulance. Archer and the surgeon saw it, and said nothing. Thatwas natural, possibly, under the circumstances, and could be controlledlater. Archer cross-questioned the couriers at some length. They hadnot followed the Verde Valley southward. They had "lit out" along theMesa road, toward Baker's Butte, until they found the trail by way ofHardscrabble and Granite Creek. They had succeeded in evading Apachesuntil the third day out, and after leaving the East Fork they sawsmokes that made them wary, and once down in the Wild Rye Valley, andin sight of the old Picacho, they came upon recent Indian signs in thesand--moccasin tracks going down stream bed toward the post. Then they"chassayed," as they said, out into the open, midway to the foothills,so as to keep out of rifle range of both, and then Indians camea-running at them from the foothills, trying to head them off and takethem alive, they supposed, and they had dismounted and fought anddriven them back, and, oh, they must have killed three or four of 'em!and in fact had had to fight for their lives most of the afternoon.Archer listened, incredulous, puzzled. Frontiersmen's and fishermen'stales have much in common. These were men who had been employed threeyears, they said, by the agent at the upper reservation and had beendetailed for courier duty with Colonel Pelham, commanding the districtof the Verde. One was American, the other Mexican. Their story might bestraight, but, with all the valor to which they laid claim, it seemedstrange to Archer and his officers that two men could break their waythrough an encircling horde of hostiles such as they described, andhold a hundred fierce Apaches four long hours at bay.
Harris was awake, and in highly nervous condition, and begging that hemight be allowed to see and question these couriers, but both doctors,regular and contract, said no, not this night. And so, toward midnight,the couriers were permitted to go to bed. The doubled sentries werecautioned to observe the utmost vigilance. The lights were extinguishedat the store, by way of telling everybody that neither game nor glasswas to be had before the morrow. The general was urged by his devotedadherents, Bonner, Bucketts and Strong, to get such sleep as waspossible, and the post was committed to the charge of LieutenantBriggs, officer of the day. The lights were still burning low at thehospital and in the doctor's quarters and Strong's, as, with a lookabout the moonlit valley and a word to his sergeant, Bonner rejoinedhis comrades at the quartermaster's veranda.
"Odd," said he, with a tilt of his head toward the quarters nextbeyond, "of all our little fighting force, so far the only casualtiesare with our two casuals."
That was at one o'clock in the morning. At three, by which time all butthe guard were presumably in bed, Mrs. Archer, lying anxious andwakeful, listening for the sound of sigh or sob from Lilian's littleroom and praying that sorrow might be averted from that beloved child,felt sure at last that she heard a footstep, and, stealing softlyacross the narrow hallway, found Lilian kneeling at the curtainedwindow and gazing out upon the brilliant night. There was no reproachin the mother's murmured words. Well she knew what it portended thather daughter should be at this hour sleepless and striving, perhaps, tosee the light from the window where her young hero lay prostrate andsuffering. Not one word had they yet exchanged about him, but many awoman, even with mother love brimming over in her heart, would haveupbraided, and many another would have "nagged." What other word havewe for that feminine method, the resort of so very many, the remedy ofso very few? But Mrs. Archer simply circled a loving arm about theslender form. "We're all on guard to-night, aren't we, daughter?" shemurmured, fondly kissing the tear-wet cheek. "It was so long beforeyour father dropped to sleep. Have you--heard anything?"
Burying her face in the dear refuge of years, with her arms throwninstantly about her mother's neck, Lilian's sole answer was a shake ofthe bonny head. It was as much as saying, "You know that isn't thematter; yet, thank you for trying to think so--thank you for not askingme what is."
"Well, _I_ did," murmured Mrs. Archer, slowly rising to her feet, anddrawing Lilian with her. "I'm sure I heard low voices down there on theflat toward the ford. The sentries are more than usually watchful andtaking note of everything. You know it was right out there Number Fiveheard the crying in the willows only last night." And all the time shewas quietly leading her child back to the little white bed.
Then suddenly Lilian stopped and lifted her head. "I hear now," saidshe. "It's coming!" Across the hall stealthily they sped, and togetherwere presently peering from the southward window in Mrs. Archer's room.Two dim figures could be seen crossing the flat from the direction ofthe ford, coming straight for the low point of the mesa whereon stoodthe quarters of the commanding officer. Then they began breasting theslope, but exchanging no word. As they reached the top Mrs. Archercaught Lilian's hand. "It's an Indian--a runner, I believe. See, that'sthe corporal of the guard with him! It's a despatch of some kind!"
And so it proved. Five minutes later, Briggs, officer of the day, washeard coming down the line; his sword clicked at the steps; his footwas on the veranda, but before he could knock, Mrs. Archer met him atthe door.
"We saw them coming," said she. "Is it a despatch--for the general?"
"From Captain Turner," said he gravely. "I read it, hoping not to haveto disturb the general, but--there's been a fight and some are wounded.Turner needs instructions."
The army-bred woman needed no further word. She knew at once what hadto be done. "Wake father, Lilian, dear," she gently called from thefoot of the stairs. "Will you come in, Mr. Briggs? I can light up in amoment."
"There's light in abundance out here, thank you, Mrs. Archer. Besides,I have our runner." And, turning back, he pointed to the steps where,still watched by Corporal Hicks, the dusky messenger squatted wearily.All Apaches looked alike to Hicks. His attitude was plainly indicativeof a conviction that treachery of some kind was afoot, and thisparticular envoy had designs on his commander or that commander's wife.They could hear the veteran bustling about upstairs, hurriedly donninghis uniform. Then came Strong, with his quick, bounding step, forBriggs had called him before disturbing the "Old Man." A moment later,by the clear light of the unclouded moon, Archer was hurriedly readingTurner's brief despatch.
BIVOUAC ON TORONTO CREEK, NOVEMBER 24TH, 187--.
POST ADJUTANT, CAMP ALMY.
We have had two more brushes with Tonto Apaches, resulting in the breaking up of two rancheri-as and the scattering of the band, leaving several dead in each affair, also a few wounded bucks and squaws that I had to leave, as we had no means of sending them to the post or caring for them in any way. Sergeant Payne, Corporal Smith, G, and Troopers Schreiter and Wenzel, wounded, are doing as well as can be expected, but must remain at this point under a small guard while we follow the renegades. The scouts report many signs toward the Black Mesa, and we shall strike wherever we find the hostiles, but I shall have but twenty-five men with me now, and barely forty rounds per man. Instructions sent by bearer may reach me among the foothills toward Diamond Butte. Otherwise, we shall return by the way we came. Trooper Hanson, died of wounds in the affair previously reported, was buried here.
Respectfully,
TURNER, Commanding.
"Then the other runner failed to get in," said Archer gravely. "Therewas a fight before this. Turner's found a raft of Indians. Thisdespatch is two days old now. Have we nobody who can talk with thisIndian?"
"Nobody, I fear, sir," answered Strong, bending over the scout andexamining the brass identification tag worn by each of those regularlyemployed and mustered. "He's a Hualpai. No. 21. Even Harris doesn'tknow that tongue, sir."
"If anybody here does, it's one of those two that got in from Verdelast evening," said Archer reflectively. "Turner evidently had no ideathe hostiles were all about us, and he thinks the previous despatchmust have reached us. Corporal, go find the couriers and fetch themhere. Be seated, gentlemen," he continued, in his courtly way, thenturning from everybody, stepped out on the sandy level between hisquarters and the office building, and began pacing slowly up and down.
What was to be done? No word had come from Stannard. Stirring, yetdisquieting news they now had from Turner, whose wounded lay in need ofmedical attention a long day's march through stony wilds, with jealousand savage eyes watching every trail. Here at Almy he had two companiesof sturdy foot, capable of covering ground almost as fast as thecavalry, but wearing out shoe leather much faster. Twenty of thesefellows could fight their way through to the Tonto, but might have justas many more wounded to care for, and be unable to transport them.Moreover, with so many hostiles on every side, was he justified instripping the post of its defenders? It was no pleasant situation. Itwas more than perplexing. Presently he turned and, using such signs ashe thought might be comprehensible, asked the impassive runner if heknew where the first fight took place, and the Hualpai, as would almostany Indian partially gathering the drift of a question, began arambling reply, pointing as he spoke, with shifting finger, all overthe range to the south-east.
"Bella, dear, have we anything that this incomprehensible creaturecould eat?" asked Archer. "It may help matters." And presently the ladyof the house appeared at the hall door again, with a tray in her hands.Briggs ceremoniously took it, and set huge slices of bread and jambefore the gaunt mountaineer, who found his feet in an instant;received a slice on the palm of his outspread hand; lifted itcautiously, his yellow teeth showing hungrily; smelled it suspiciously,thrust forth his tongue, and slowly tasted the strange mixture on thesurface; then, with confidence established, finished it in four gulps,and, like a greyhound, looked eagerly for more. Briggs laughed andpointed to the tray on the steps, but the Hualpai shook his head anddrew back shyly.
"You'll have to give it piece by piece, Briggs," said Strong. "Hissquaw would scoop the whole trayload into her skirt or blanket, but nota Hualpai brave."
Approached in accordance with Hualpai views of table etiquette, theIndian ate greedily, and was still eating when the corporal came and,with him, the sleepy and dishevelled courier, the American. And now inthe radiant moonlight the strange war council was resumed.
"Ask him, if you can, where the first fight came off, and who was sentwith the despatch," demanded the general of the new-comer, upon whomthe Hualpai looked in recognition, but with neither light nor welcomein his piercing eyes. Question and answer in halting, uncanny speechprogressed fitfully a moment. Then came the report:
"He says there was a fight the first day out; another when they struckTonto Creek, and two soldiers were killed."
"And as to the first runner?"
"He says 'Patchie Mohave brought it all way safe. This buck met himgoing back. He said he gave it to 'scout capitan' out by Picacho."
"'Out by Picacho!''Scout capitan!' Who on earth does he mean?" askedArcher, with a sudden fear at heart.
Once again, stumbling question, much gesticulation, many words instrange gutturals--and a name. Then the final report:
"He means Apache-Mohave--'Tonio!"