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IN THE PECOS COUNTRY
Lieutenant R. H. Jayne
[pseudonym of Edward Sylvester Ellis (1840-1916)]

CHAPTER I
A WARNING

In the valley of the Rio Pecos, years ago, an attempt at founding a
settlement was made by a number of hardy and daring New Englanders,
whose leader was a sort of Don Quixote, who traveled hundreds of
miles, passing by the richest land, the most balmy climate, where all
were protected by the strong arm of law, for the sake of locating
where the soil was only moderate, the climate no better, and where, it
may be said, the great American government was as powerless to protect
its citizens as was a child itself. The Rio Pecos, running through
New Mexico and Texas, drains a territory which at that time was one of
the most dangerous in the whole Indian country; and why these score or
more of families should have hit upon this spot of all others, was a
problem which could never be clearly solved.

The head man, Caleb Barnwell, had some odd socialistic theories,
which, antedating as they did the theories of Bellamy, were not likely
to thrive very well upon New England soil, and he pursuaded his
friends to go with him, under the belief that the spot selected was
one where they would have full opportunity to increase and multiply,
as did the Mormons during their early days at Salt Lake. Then, too,
there was some reason to suspect that rumors had reached the ears of
Barnwell of the existence of gold and silver along this river, and it
was said that he had hinted as much to those whom he believed he could
trust. Be that as it may, the score of families reached the valley of
the Upper Pecos in due time, and the settlement was begun and duly
christened New Boston.

"How long do yer s'pose you folks are goin' to stay yer? Why, just
long enough for Lone Wolf to hear tell that you've arriv, and he'll
down here and clear you out quicker'n lightning."

This was the characteristic observation made by the old scout, hunter
and guide, Sut Simpson, as he reined up his mustang to chat awhile
with the new-comers, whom he looked upon as the greatest lunk-heads
that he had ever encountered in all of his rather eventful experience.
He had never seen them before; but he did not care for that, as he had
the frankness of a frontiersman and never stood upon ceremony in the
slightest degree.

"Did you ever hear tell of Lone Wolf?" he continued, as a group,
including nearly the entire population, gathered about the veteran of
the plains. "I say, war any of you ever introduced to that American
gentleman?"

He looked around, from face to face, but no one responded. Whenever
he fixed his eye upon any individual, that one shook his head to
signify that he knew nothing of the Apache chief whose name he had
just mentioned.

"What I meant to say," he continued, "is that any of you have got any
yearnin' toward Lone Wolf, feeling as if your heart would break if you
did n't get a chance to throw your arms about him, why, you need n't
feel bad, _'cause you'll get the chance_."

There was a significance in these words which made it plain to every
one of those who were looking up in the scarred face of the hunter.
As they were spoken, he winked one of his eyes and cocked his head to
one side, in a fashion that made the words still more impressive. As
Sut looked about the group, his gaze was attracted by two figures--a
man and a boy. The former was an Irishman--his nationality being
evident at the first glance--while the latter seemed about fourteen
years of age, with a bright, intelligent face, a clear, rosy, healthy
complexion, and a keen eye that was fixed steadily and inquiringly
upon the horseman who was giving utterance to such valuable
information. The hunter was attracted by both, especially as he saw
from their actions that they were friends and companions. There was
something in the honest face of the Irishman which won him, while the
lad by his side would have carried his way almost anywhere upon the
score of his looks alone.

As the entire group were gazing up in the face of the scout, he spoke
to them all, although, in reality, his words were now directed more at
the two referred to than at the others. When he had completed the
words given, there was silence for a moment, and then Mickey O'Rooney,
the Irishman, recovered his wits. Stepping forward a couple of paces,
he addressed their visitor.

"From the manner of your discourse, I judge that you're acquainted
with the American gentleman that you've just referred to as Mr. Lone
Wolf?"

"I rather reckon I am," replied Sut, with another of his peculiar
grins. "Me and the Wolf have met semi-occasionally for the past ten
years, and I carry a few remembrances of his love, that I expect to
keep on carrying to my grave."

As he spoke, he laid his finger upon a cicatrized wound upon his
cheek, a frightful scar several inches in length, and evidently made
by a tomahawk. It ran from the temple to the base of the nose, and
was scarcely concealed by the luxuriant grizzled beard that grew
almost to his eyes.

"That's only one," said Sut. "Here's another that mebbe you can see."

This time he removed his coon-skin hunting-cap and bending his head
down, he parted the hair with his long, horny fingers, so that all saw
very distinctly the scar of a wound that must have endangered the life
of the recipient.

"I've got half a dozen other scars strung here and there about my
body, the most of which was made by that lonely Apache chief that is
called Lone Wolf; so I reckon you'll conclude that he and me have some
acquaintance. Oh! we was as lovin' as a couple of brothers!"

Mickey O'Rooney lifted his cap, and scratched his red head in a
puzzled way, as if he were debating some weighty matter. Suddenly
looking up, he asked:

"Was this Mr. Wolf born in these parts?"

"I can't say, precisely, where he first seed the light, but it must
have been somewhere round about this part of the world. Why did you
ax?"

"I was thinking p'raps he was born in Ireland, and came to this
country when he was of tender age. I once knowed a Mr. Fox, whose
petaty patch was so close to ours, that the favorite amoosement of me
respected parents was flingin' the petaties over into our field by
moonlight. His name was Fox, I say, but I never knowed anybody by the
name of Wolf."

"He's a screamer," continued Sut Simpson, who seemed to enjoy talking
of such a formidable foe. "The Comanches and Apaches sling things
loose in these parts, an' the wonder to me is how you ever got this
fur without losing your top-knots, for you've had to come right
through their country."

"We have had encounters with the red men times without number," said
Caleb Barnwell, who was standing erect, with arms folded, looking
straight at the hunter. He spoke in a deep, rich, bass voice,
recalling the figures of the early Puritans, who were unappalled by
the dangers of the ocean and forest, when the question of liberty of
conscience was at stake. "We have encountered the red men time and
again," he continued, "so that I may conclude that we have become
acclimated, as they say, and understand the nature of the American
Indian very well."

Sut Simpson shook his head with a displeased expression.

"If you'd understood Injin nature, you'd never come here to settle.
You might have gone through the country on your way to some other
place, for, when you're on the way, you can keep a lookout for the
varmints; but you've undertook to settle down right in the heart of
the Apache country, and that's what I call the biggest piece of
tom-foolery that was ever knowed."

This kind of talk might have discouraged ordinary people, but Barnwell
and his companions had long since become accustomed to it. They had
learned to brave ridicule before leaving their homes, and they classed
the expressions of the hunters who had called upon them with the
utterances of those who failed to "look into the future."

"We were not the dunces to suppose that this was a promised land, in
which there were no giants to dispossess," replied Barnwell, in the
same dignified manner. "Our fathers had to fight the Indians, and we
are prepared to do the same."

Sut Simpson had no patience with this sort of talk, and he threw up
his head with an impatient gesture.

"Did you ever toss a hunk of buffler meat to a hungry hound, and seen
how nice he'd catch it in his jaws, and gulp it down without winkin',
and then he'd lick his chops, and look up and whine for more. Wal,
that's just the fix you folks are in. Lone Wolf and his men will
swallow you down without winkin', and then be mad that there ain't
somethin' left to squinch thar hunger."

As the hunter uttered this significant warning, he gathered up the
reins of his mustang and rode away.

CHAPTER II
A BRIEF CONFERENCE

Sut Simpson was thoroughly impatient and angry. Knowing, as well as
he did, the dangerous character of Arizona, New Mexico, Northwestern
Texas and Indian Territory, he could not excuse such a foolhardy
proceeding as that of a small colony settling in the very heart of
that section. The nearest point where they could hope for safety was
Fort Severn, fifty miles distant. There was a company of soldiers
under command of an experienced United States officer, and they knew
well enough to keep within the protection of their stockades, except
when making reconnoissances in force.

All those who were acquainted with the veteran scout were accustomed
to defer to his judgment, where Indians were concerned, and he was so
used to receiving this deference, that when he was contradicted and
gainsayed by these new settlers, he lost his patience, and started to
leave them in a sort of mild passion.

The place fixed for the location of New Boston was in a gently sloping
valley, with the Rio Pecos running on the right. The soil was
fertile, as was shown in the abundance of rich, succulent grass which
grew about them, while, only a few hundred yards up the river, was a
grove of timber, filled in with dense undergrowth and brush--the most
favorable location possible for a band of daring red-skins, when
preparing to make a raid upon the settlement. The hunter turned the
head of his mustang in the direction of this wood, and rode away at a
slow walk. He had nearly reached the margin, when some one called to
him:

"Hist, there, ye spalpeen! Won't ye howld on a minute?"

Turning his head, he saw the Irishman walking rapidly toward him,
after the manner of one who had something important to say. He
instantly checked his horse, and waited for him to come up.

"Do you know," struck in Mickey, "that I belaved in Misther Barnwell
till we reached Kansas City? There we met people that had been all
through this country and that knew all about it, and every one of the
spalpeens told us that we'd lose our sculps if we comed on. I did n't
consider it likely that all of them folks would talk in that style
unless they meant it, and half a dozen of us made up our minds that
the best thing we could do was to go back, or stop where we was. We
wint to Misther Barnwell and plaided with him, and I was ready to
break a shillalah over his head by way of convincin' him of the truth
of me remarks, but it was no use. He just grinned and shook his head.
The folks all seem to be afeard of him, as though he were St. Patrick
or some other sensible gintleman, and so we comed on."

"What made _you_ come?" asked Sut, throwing his knee upon the saddle
and looking down upon the Irishman. "You could do as you choosed."

"No, I could n't. I hired out to Mr. Moonson for a year, and there
ain't half a year gone yet, and I've got to stick to him till the time
is up."

"Whose little boy is that I seed standing by you?"

"That's Mr. Moonson's boy, Fred, one of the foinest, liveliest lads ye
ever sot eyes on, and I'm much worried on his account."

"Are his parents with you?"

"Naither of 'em."

The hunter looked surprised, and the Irishman hastened to explain.

"I never knowed his mother--she havin' been dead afore I lift owld
Ireland--and his father was taken down with a sort of fever a week
ago, when we was t'other side of Fort Aubray. It was n't anything
dangerous at all but it sort of weakened him, so that it was belaved
best for him to tarry there awhile until he could regain his
strength."

"Why did n't you and the younker stay with him?"

"That's what orter been done," replied the disgusted Irishman. "But
as it was n't, here we are. The owld gintleman, Mr. Moonson, had
considerable furniture and goods that went best with the train, and he
needed me to look after it. He thought the boy would be safer with
the train than with him, bein' that when he comes on, as he hopes to
do, in the course of a week, be the same more or less, he will not
have more than two or three companions. What I wanted to ax yez,''
said Mickey, checking his disposition to loquacity, "is whether ye are
in dead airnest 'bout saying the copper-colored gentleman will be down
here for the purpose of blotting out the metropolis of New Boston?"

"Be here? Of course they will, just as sure as you're a livin' man.
And you won't have to wait long, either."

"How long?"

"Inside of a week, mebbe within three days. The last I heard of Lone
Wolf, he was down in the direction of the Llano Estaeado, some two or
three hundred miles from here, and it won't take him long to come that
distance."

"Is he the only Indian chief in this country, that ye talk so much
about him?"

"Oh, no! there are plenty of 'em, but Lone Wolf has a special weakness
for such parties as this."

"When he does come, what is best for us to do?"

"You'll make the best fight you can, of course, and if you get licked,
as I've no doubt you will, and you're well mounted, you must all
strike a bee-line for Fort Severn, and never stop till you reach the
stockades. You can't miss the road, for you've only got to ride
toward the setting sun, as though you meant to dash your animal right
through it."

"Where will the spalpeen come from?"

The hunter pointed toward the woods before them.

"That's just the place the varmints would want--they could n't want
any nicer. You may be lookin' at that spot, and they'll crawl right
in afore you'r eyes, and lay thar for hours without your seein' 'em.
You want to get things fixed, so that you can make a good fight when
they do swoop down on you. I guess that long-legged chap that I was
talkin' to knows enough for that. You seem to have more sense than
any of 'em, and I'll give you a little advice. Let's see, what's your
name?"

The Irishman gave it, and the hunter responded by mentioning his own.

"Do you put some one in here to keep watch night and day, and the
minute you see the redskins comin' give the signal and run for your
friends there. Then if the red-skins foller, you must let 'em have it
right and left. If you find you can't hold your own agin 'em, you
must make all haste to Fort Severn, as you heard me say a while ago.
Aim for the setting sun, and after you've gone fifty miles or so
you'll be thar. Good by to you, now; I'm watching the Injin movements
in these parts, and, if the signs are bad, and I have the chance, I'll
give you notice; but you must n't depend on me."

The hunter leaned over the saddle, and warmly shook the hand of the
Irishman, the two having conceived a strong liking for each other.

Then he wheeled his mustang about, and gave him a word that caused him
at once to break into a swift gallop, which quickly carried him up the
slope, until he reached the margin of the valley, over which he went
at the same rate, and speedily vanished from view.

The Irishman stood gazing at the spot where he had vanished, and then
he walked thoughtfully back toward the settlement, where all were as
busy as beavers, getting their rude huts and homes in condition for
living. In doing this Caleb Barnwell was guided by a desire to be
prepared for the Indian visitation, which he knew was likely soon to
be made. They had gathered an immense quantity of driftwood along the
banks of the Rio Pecos, and the other timber that they needed had
already been cut and dragged from the woods, so that about all the
material they needed was at hand.

Even with their huts a third or a half finished, they would be in a
much better condition to receive the attack of the Apaches than if
compelled to place their heavy luggage-wagons in a semi-circle and
fight from behind them.

"The gentleman spakes the thruth," muttered Mickey, as he walked
along, "and I'm not the one to forgit such a favor, when he took so
much pains to tell me. I'll remember and fix a watch in the wood."

CHAPTER III
FRED GOES ON GUARD

Mickey O'Rooney, fully believing the warning of the hunter, could not
but feel deeply anxious for the safety of himself and those around
him. He was particularly concerned for his young friend, Fred Munson,
who had been committed to his charge.

"It's myself that is the only one he has to look after him, and if I
does n't attend to my dooty, there's no telling what may become of it,
and be the same towken, I can't say what'll become of him if I _does_
attend to the same. Whisht! there."

The last exclamation was uttered to Caleb Barnwell, whom he approached
at that moment. The leader stepped aside a few minutes, and they
conferred together. The Irishman impressed upon the leader the
warning he had received from the hunter, and Barnwell admitted that
there might be grounds for the fear, but he added that he was doing
all he could to guard against it. At Mickey's suggestion, he sent two
of his most trustworthy men to the woods to keep watch, while a third
was stationed on some elevated ground beyond, where he commanded an
extensive view of the surrounding prairie. As this was to be a
permanent arrangement, it would seem that he had taken all reasonable
precautions. Not a suspicious sign was seen through the day.

When night came, the two men were called in, and Mickey O'Rooney, Fred
Munson, and a man named Thompson went on duty. As two was the regular
number at night, it will be seen that the boy was an extra.

"We're to come in at one o'clock," he said, in reply to the
remonstrance of his friend, "and I'm sure I can keep awake that long.
I believe the Indians will be around to-night, and I won't be able to
sleep if I go into the wagon."

Mickey had not yet learned how to refuse the boy, and so he took him
along.

Thompson was a powerful, stalwart man, who had joined the party in
Nebraska, and who was supposed to have considerable knowledge of the
frontier and its ways. He had proved himself a good shot, and, on
more than one occasion, had displayed such coolness and
self-possession in critical moments, that he was counted one of the
most valuable men in the entire company.

The sentinels were stationed on the other side of the wood, Mickey at
one corner, Thompson at another, with Fred about half way between,
something like a hundred yards separating them from each other.

It must be said that, so far as it was possible, Fred Munson was
furnished with every advantage that he could require. He had a rifle
suited to his size and strength, but it was one of the best ever made,
and long-continued and careful practice had made him quite skillful in
handling it. Besides this, both he and Mickey were provided each with
the fleetest and most intelligent mustang that money could purchase,
and when mounted and with a fair field before them, they had little to
fear from the pursuit of the Apaches and Comanches.

But it is the Indian's treacherous, cat-like nature that makes him so
dangerous, and against his wonderful cunning all the precautions of
the white men are frequently in vain.

"Now, Fred," said Mickey, after they had left Thompson, as he was on
the point of leaving the boy," I don't feel exactly aisy 'bout laving
you here, as me mother used to observe when she wint out from the
house, while I remained behind with the vittles. If one of the
spalpeens should slip up and find you asleep, he'd never let you wake
up."

"You need n't be afraid of my going to sleep," replied Fred, in a
voice of self-confidence. "I know what the danger is too well."

With a few more words they separated, and each took his station, the
Irishman somewhat consoled by the fact that from where he stood he was
able, he believed, to cover the position of the lad.

The moon overhead was gibbous, and there were no clouds in the sky.
Thompson's place was such that he was close to the river, which flowed
on his right, and he had that stream and the prairie in his front at
his command. Mickey O'Rooney, being upon the extreme left, was
enabled to range his eye up the valley to the crest of the slope, so
that he was confident he could detect any insidious approach from that
direction. Down the valley, on the other side of the settlement, were
placed a couple of other sentinels, so that New Boston, on that
memorable night, was well guarded.

The position of Fred Munson, it will be understood, was apparently the
least important, as it was commanded by the other two, but the lad
felt as if the lives of the entire company were placed in his hands.

"Talk of my going to sleep," he repeated, as soon as he found himself
alone. "I can stand or sit here till daylight, and wink less times
than either Thompson or Mickey."

As every boy feels this way a short time before going to sleep, no one
who might have overheard Fred's boast would have been over-persuaded
thereby. Before him stretched the sloping valley of the Rio Pecos.
Glancing to the right, he could just catch the glimmer of the river as
it flowed by in the moonlight, the banks being low and not wooded,
while looking straight up the valley, his vision was bounded only by
darkness itself. Carefully running his eye over the ground, he was
confident that the slyest and most stealthy Indian that ever lived
could not approach within a hundred feet of him without detection.

"And the minute I'm certain its a red-skin, that minute I'll let him
have it," he added, instinctively grasping his rifle. "A boy need n't
be as old as I am to learn that it won't do to fool with such dogs as
they are."

The grove which was guarded in this manner, it will be understood, was
nearly square in shape, reaching from the shore of the Rio Pecos on
toward the left until the termination of the valley in that direction
had been gained. It had been so plentifully drawn upon for logs and
lumber that here and there were spaces from which, several trees
having been cut, the moon's rays found unobstructed entrance. One of
these oasis, as they may be termed, was directly in the rear of Fred,
who noticed it while reconnoitering his position. The open space was
some twenty feet square, and was bisected by the trunk of a large
cottonwood, which had fallen directly across it.

Being left entirely to himself, the boy now devoted himself to the
somewhat dismal task of keeping watch, an occupation that cannot be
classed as the most cheerful in which a man may engage. The
excitement and apprehension that marked the first two or three hours
prevented the time from hanging too heavily upon his hands, but as the
night stole along and nothing was heard or seen to cause alarm, the
fear grew less and less, until, like a boy, he began to suspect that
all these precautions were useless.

For the twentieth time he stood up and listened. The soft, musical
murmur of the Rio Pecos was heard, as it flowed by on his right, and
now and then the gentlest possible breath of night-wind disturbed the
branches overhead; but nothing else caught his notice. To prevent the
feeling of utter loneliness from gaining possession of him, Fred
occasionally emitted a low, soft, tremulous whistle, which was
instantly responded to from the direction of Mickey. It was the old
familiar signal which they had used many a time when off on their
little hunting expeditions, and either, hearing it, could not mistake
its source. But this grew wearisome at last, and he leaned back
against a tree, looking out upon the moonlit valley beyond, where
nothing as yet had caught his eye that looked in the least suspicious,
and where everything still appeared as silent as a graveyard.

"I don't believe there are any Indians within fifty miles," he
muttered, impatiently; "and yet we must have three or four men on the
look-out till morning. Well, I s'pose it's the only safe thing to do,
and I'm bound to stick it out till one o'clock. It must be near
midnight now, and if Mickey should come around here, an hour from now,
and find me asleep, I never would hear the last of it."

He felt very much like sitting down upon the ground, but he knew if he
did that he would be sure to fall asleep, while, as long as he kept
his feet, he was sure to retain his senses. When disposed to become
too drowsy, a sudden giving away at the knees recalled him so
vigorously, that it was a considerable time before the drowsiness
crept over him again.

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