Books: In the Pecos Country
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Lieutenant R.H. Jayne >> In the Pecos Country
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Thus the night advanced, until all at once, Fred aroused himself as if
a sharp pin had been thrust in him.
"By George! I heard something then!" he exclaimed, in an excited
undertone, looking sharply about him; "but I don't know where it came
from."
His impression was that it came from some point directly before him
out on the open space; but the most rigid scrutiny failed to reveal
the cause. There was the level stretch of grass, unbroken by stone or
shrub, but nothing that could be tortured into the remotest
resemblance to a human figure.
"It can't be there," he muttered; "or if it was, it do n't amount--"
His senses were aroused to the highest pitch, and he was all
attention.
Just as the thoughts were running through his head, he caught the
slightest possible rustle from some point behind him. He turned his
head like lightning, and looked and listened. He could dimly discern
the open moonlit space to which reference has already been made; but
the intervening trees and undergrowth prevented anything like a
satisfactory view.
"There's where it seemed to come from," he said, to himself; "and yet
I do n't see how an Indian could have got there without our finding it
out. Maybe it was n't anything, after all."
lIe waited and listened awhile longer, but no more. Anxious to learn
what it all meant, he began a cautious movement toward the open space,
for the purpose of finding out.
CHAPTER IV
FACING LONE WOLF
Fred's few weeks spent in crossing the plains on his way to the valley
of the Rio Pecos had taught him much of the ways of the Indians, and
he knew that if any of the scamps were in his immediate neighborhood,
it would be almost impossible for him to stir from his position by the
tree without betraying himself. The lad half suspected that the sound
was made by some wild animal that was stealing through the wood, or
what was more likely, that it was no more than a falling leaf; but,
whatever it was, he was determined to learn if the thing were among
the possibilities.
A veteran Comanche, himself, could not have picked his way through the
undergrowth any better than did he; and, when at last he stood upon
the edge of the open space and looked around, he was morally certain
that no other creature was aware of his movement. Nor was he aware of
the action of the other party, if there was really such a one, which
had been the means of bringing him thither. If some wild animal or
wild Indian were lurking in the vicinity, he knew how to remain
invisible.
"I'll stay here a little while--"
Fred at that moment was looking at the cottonwood tree, which, it will
be remembered, had been felled directly across the opening, when, to
his speechless terror, the figure of an Indian warrior suddenly rose
upright from behind it, and stood as motionless as a statue. His
action indicated that he was not aware that any one was standing so
near him. He had probably crept up to the log behind which he
crouched, until, believing he was not in danger of being seen, he
arose to his feet and assumed the attitude of one who was using his
eyes and ears to their utmost extent.
He was of ordinary stature, without any blanket, his long, black hair
hanging loosely down upon his shoulders, his scarred and ugly
countenance daubed and smeared with different colored paint, his chest
bare, and ornamented in the same fashion, a knife at his girdle, and a
long, formidable rifle in his hand--such were the noticeable
characteristics, to a superficial observer, of Lone Wolf, the Apache
chief--for the Indian confronting Fred Munson was really he, and no
one else.
The lad suspected the identity of the red-skin, although, having never
seen him, it amounted only to a suspicion. No matter who he was,
however, he was prepared for him.
The Apache showed his usual cunning. He was evidently attempting to
steal upon the sentinels, and, having risen to his feet, he remained
motionless and upright, listening for any sign that might betray any
motion of the individuals whom he was seeking to slay, as does the
assassin at night.
"He must have been after _me_, for he is right behind where I stood,"
thought the boy, as he grasped his rifle more firmly than ever,
resolved to fire upon the wretch the moment he attempted to advance.
Lone Wolf stood but a minute in the position described, when,
seemingly, he was satisfied that the way was clear, and, throwing one
moccasin on the trunk, he climbed over as silently as a shadow, and
stood again holt upright upon the other side. This brought the Indian
and boy within ten feet of each other, and still the advantage was all
upon the side of the latter, who stood in such deep shadow that he was
not only invisible, but his presence was unsuspected.
The Indian was not gazing in the direction of the lad, but seemed to
turn his attention more to the left, toward the spot where Mickey
O'Rooney, the Irishman, was stationed. In ignoring the proximity of a
boy, it cannot be said that he acted unreasonably.
Lone Wolf remained like a carven statue for a few seconds longer, and
then began a cautious movement forward. In the moonlight, Fred could
observe the motion of the foot, and the gradual advance of the body.
He felt that it would not do to defer any longer his intention of
obstructing him. If permitted to go on in this manner, he might kill
Mickey O'Rooney, and bring down a whole host of red-skins upon the
sleeping settlers, cutting them off to a man.
Fred had his rifle to his shoulder, and pointed toward the Indian.
Suddenly stepping forward, he placed himself in the moonlight, and,
with the muzzle of his piece almost at the breast of the chief, he
said:
"Another step forward, and I'll bore you through!"
The lad did not stop to consider whether it was likely that the Indian
understood the English tongue; but, as it happened, Lone Wolf could
use it almost as if to the manner born; and it would have required no
profound linguistic knowledge upon the part of anyone to have
comprehended the meaning of the young hero. It was one of those
situations in which gesture told the meaning more plainly than mere
words could have done. But if ever there was an astonished aborigine,
Lone Wolf was the same.
It was not often that such a wily warrior as he was caught napping,
but he was completely outwitted on the present occasion. When he saw
the muzzle of the rifle pointed straight at his breast, he knew what
it meant, even though the weapon was in the hands of a boy. It meant
that any attempt on his part to raise his gun or draw his tomahawk or
knife, would be met by the discharge of the threatening weapon, and
his own passage from time into eternity. So he stared at the lad a
moment, and then demanded in good English:
"What does my brother want?"
"I want you to leave, just as quickly as you know how, and never show
yourself here again."
Lone Wolf's wigwam is many miles away," supplied the Indian, pointing
northward, "and he is on his way there now."
Fred started a little at this terrible chieftain's name; but he held
his gun pointed steadily towards him, determined to fire the instant
he attempted the least hostile movement, for his own salvation
depended upon such a prompt check-mating of his enemy.
An Indian is always ready to make the best of his situation, and Lone
Wolf saw that he was fairly caught. Still, he acted cautiously, in
the hope of throwing the young hero off his guard, so as to permit him
to crush him as suddenly as if by a panther's spring.
"If your wigwam is there, it is time you were home," said Fred. "We
are on the lookout for such customers as you, and if any of the others
see you they won't let you off so easy as I do. So the best thing is
for you to leave."
Lone Wolf made no direct reply to this, except to take a step toward
the side of the lad, as if it were involuntary, and intended to
further the convenience of conversation; but Fred suspected his
purpose, and warned him back.
"Lone Wolf, if you want to carry your life away with you, you will go
at once. I do n't want to shoot you, but if you come any nearer or
wait any longer, I'll fire. I'm tired of holding this gun, and it may
go off itself."
The Apache chief made no answer, but, with his eyes fixed upon the
lad, took a step backward, as an earnest of his intention of obeying.
Reaching the log, he hastily clambered over it and speedily vanished
like a phantom in the gloom of the wood beyond, leaving the boy master
of the field.
CHAPTER V
THE APACHES ARE COMING
As soon as Lone Wolf was out of sight, young Munson stepped back in
the shadow of the wood, and quickly placed himself behind the trunk of
a large tree. He had learned the nature of the Indian race too well
for him to give this precious specimen any chance to circumvent him.
Had he remained standing in the moonlight opening, after the Apache
entered the wood, the latter could not have had a better opportunity
to pick him off without danger to himself. Had he meditated any such
purpose, when he wheeled to fire the shot there would have been no
target visible.
The strained ear of the lad could not detect the slightest rustling
that might betray the where-abouts of the dreaded chief, and Fred knew
better than to expect any such advantage as that which just permitted
to pass through his hands. But what would Lone Wolf do? This was the
all-important question. Would he sneak off through the wood and out
of the valley, and would he be seen and heard no more that night? or
would he return to revenge himself for the injury to his pride? Was
he alone in the grove, or were there a half dozen brother-demons
sulking among the undergrowth, like so many rattlesnakes, except that
they did not give any warning before striking their blow? Had any of
them visited Mickey or Thompson, and was a general attack about to be
made upon the settlement? Such questions as these surged through the
mind of Fred, as he stood leaning against the tree, rifle in hand,
listening, looking, and thinking.
Suddenly he gave utterance to a low whistle, which he was accustomed
to use as a signal in communicating with Mickey. It was almost
instantly answered, in a way which indicated that the Irishman was
approaching. A minute later the two were together. The lad hastily
related his stirring adventure with the great Apache war-chief, and, as
may be imagined, Mickey was dumfounded.
"It's meself that has n't seen or heard the least sign of one of the
spalpeens since the set of sun, and they've been about us all the
time."
"How was it they got here without being seen?"
"There be plenty ways of doing the same. They've found out that we
were watching this pint, and so they slipped round and came the other
way."
"Do you think they will attack us to-night?"
"I'm thinkin' they're only making observations, as me uncle obsarved,
when he was cotched in the house of Larry O'Mulligan, and they'll be
down on us some time, when everything is ready."
"It seems to me it is a poor time to make observations--in the night."
"The red-skin is like an owl," replied Mickey. "He can see much
better at night than he can by day; but there's Thompson; let us see
whether some of the spalpeens haven't made a call upon him in the
darkness. Be aisy now, in stepping over the leaves, for an Injin
hears with his fingers and toes as well as his ears."
The Hibernian led the way, each advancing with all the caution at his
command, and using such stealth and deliberation in their movements
that some ten or fifteen minutes were consumed in passing over the
intervening space. At last, however, the spot was reached where they
had bidden good-bye to their friend, earlier in the evening.
"Here's about the place," said Mickey, looking about him; "but I does
n't observe the gintleman, by the token of which he must have strayed
away. Hilloa!"
He repeated the call in a low, cautious voice, but still loud enough
to be heard a dozen yards or more from where he stood; but no response
came, and, although neither of the two gave any expression to it, yet
they were sensible of a growing fear that this absence or silence of
their friend had a most serious meaning.
"Yonder he is now," suddenly exclaimed Fred. "He's a great sentinel,
too, for he's sound asleep."
The stalwart figure of Thompson was seen seated upon the ground, with
his back against a tree, and his chin on his breast, like one sunk in
a deep slumber. The sentinel had seated himself on the edge of the
grove, where all the trees and undergrowth were behind, and the open
space in front of him. At the time of doing so, no doubt his figure
was enveloped in the shadow, but since then the moon had climbed so
high in the sky that its rays fell upon his entire person, and the
instant the two chanced to glance in that direction, they saw him with
startling distinctness.
"Begorrah! if that does n't bate the mischief!" exclaimed Mickey,
impatiently, as he looked at his unconscious friend. "I thought he
was the gintleman that had traveled, and knew all about these
copper-colored spalpeens. S'pose we' all done the same, Lone Wolf and
his Apaches would have had all our skulp-locks hanging at their
goordles by this time. I say, Thompson, ain't you ashamed of yourself
to be wastin' your time in this fashion?"
As he spoke, he stooped down, and seizing the arm of the man, shook it
quite hard several times, but without waking him.
"Begorrah, but he acts as if he had n't a week of sleep since he had
emigrated to the West. I say, Thompson, me ould boy, can't ye arouse
up and bid us good night?"
While Mickey was speaking in this jocose manner, he had again seized
the man, but this time by the shoulder. At the first shake the head
of the man fell forward, as if he were a wooden image knocked out of
poise.
The singularity of the move struck Mickey, who abruptly ceased his
jests, raised the drooping head, and stooped down and peered into it.
One quick, searching glance told the terrible truth.
_"Be the howly powers, but he's dead!"_ gasped the horrified Irishman,
starting back, and then stooping still lower, and hurriedly examining
him.
"What killed him?" asked the terrified Fred, gazing upon the limp
figure.
"Lone Wolf, the haythen blackguard. See here," added Mickey, in a
stern voice, as he wheeled about and faced his young friend, "you told
me you had your gun pinted at that spalpeen; now it's meself that
wants to know why in blazes you did n't pull the trigger?"
"He hadn't hurt me, Mickey, and I did n't know that he had been doing
anything of this kind. Would you have shot him, in my place?"
The Irishman shook his head. It looked too cowardly to send a man,
even though he were an Indian, out of the world without an instant's
warning.
"Well, Thompson is done for, that's dead sure, and we'll have to give
him a dacent burial. Whisht, there! did ye not hear somethin'?"
Footsteps were heard very distinctly upon the leaves, and the two
shrank back in the shadow of the wood and awaited their approach, for
they were evidently coming that way. Something in the manner of
walking betrayed their identity, and Mickey spoke. The prompt answer
showed that they were the two men whose duty it was to relieve
Thompson and the Irishman. They came forward at once, and when they
learned the truth, were, as a matter of course, terribly shocked.
They reported that the sentinels nearer the settlement had detected
moving figures during the night skulking about the wood and valley,
and the sound of horses' hoofs left no doubt that they were Indians
who had gone.
The death of Thompson, of course, was a terrible shock to the new
arrivals, but it was one of the incidents of border life, and was
accepted as such. The two took their stations unflinchingly, and
Mickey and Fred returned to the settlement, the body of the dead
sentry being allowed to lie where it was, under guard, until morning.
On the morrow the body was given decent burial, and the building of
the houses was pressed with all possible activity, and scouts or
sentinels were stationed on all the prominent lookouts.
Barnwell was confident that if no interruption came about within the
next two or three days, he could put the defenses in such shape that
they could resist the attack of any body of Indians; but an assault on
that day or the next would be a most serious affair, the issue of
which was extremely doubtful; hence the necessity of pressing
everything forward with the utmost dispatch. Fred rendered what
assistance he could, but that did not amount to much, and, as he
possessed the best eyesight, he took upon himself the duty of
sentinel, taking his position near the river, where he remained for
something over an hour.
Nothing of an alarming character was seen, and, thinking his
standpoint was too depressed to give him the range of observation, he
concluded to climb one of the trees. This was quickly done, and when
he found himself in one of the topmost branches he was gratified with
the result.
On his right hand, he could trace the winding course of the Rio Pecos
for several miles, the banks here and there fringed with wood and
stunted undergrowth. His attitute was such that he could see over the
tops of the trees in his rear, and observe his friends busily at work
as so many beavers, while off on the left, stretched on the prairies,
with the faint bluish outlines of mountains in the distance. All at
once the eye of the boy was arrested by the figure of a horseman in
the west. He was coming with the speed of a whirlwind, and heading
straight toward the settlement.
Fred, wondering what it could mean, watched him with an intensity of
interest that can scarcely be imagined. At first he supposed him to
be a fugitive fleeing from the Indians; but none of the latter could
be seen on the right, left or in the rear and so he concluded that
that explanation would not answer.
The speed soon brought the horseman within hail. As he neared the Rio
Pecos Valley, he rose in his stirrups, and swung his hat in an excited
manner. At that moment Fred recognized him as Sut Simpson, the scout,
whose voice rang out as startling and clear as that of a stentor.
"The Apaches are coming! The Apaches are coming! Lone Wolf will be
down on yer quicker'n lightnin'!"
CHAPTER VI
THE APACHE ATTACK
"The Apaches are coming! The Apaches are coming!" shouted Sut
Simpson, as his mustang thundered up to the edge of the valley, while
his clear, powerful voice rang out like a bugle.
The words were startling enough, and the sudden dropping of a dozen
bombshells among the unfinished dwellings of New Boston could not have
created greater consternation, emphasized as they were by the towering
form of the hunter and steed, who looked as if they had been fired
from the throat of some immense Columbiad, and had not as yet
recovered from their bewilderment. There was some system, however, in
the movements of the pioneers, for there was ever present in their
thoughts the very danger which had now come upon them so suddenly.
In the structure which was nearest completion were placed the dozen
women and children, while the other houses that were in a condition to
afford the means of defense were taken possession of by the men, gun
in hand, ready to defend themselves to the last. Fortunately enough,
the horses happened to be corraled within the inclosure, so that,
unless the defense should utterly fail, there was little danger of
their being stampeded by the Indians.
While these hurried preparations were going on, the hunter remained
seated upon his mustang, looking down upon the pioneers with a
gathering calmness, as though he were a general watching the
evolutions of his army. Now and then he anxiously gazed off over the
prairie, his manner showing that he was mentally comparing the speed
of the approaching Apaches with that of the labors of his friends.
To Fred Munson, perched in the top of the lofty tree, the whole scene
seemed like a hurrying panorama of a dream. He never once thought of
his own personal danger, in the intensity of his interest in what was
going on before his eyes.
The hunter had scarcely checked his mustang when the lad saw the
Apaches appear upon a ridge some distance behind. It was less than
two miles away, and they all dashed over at the place where the _avant
courier_ had come at his break-neck pace; and as soon as they were all
over, and stretching away in the direction of the settlement, Fred had
some chance of estimating their number.
"There must be a thousand of them," he muttered, in a terrified
voice." They will murder us all--none can get away."
His imagination, however, intensified matters. The Apaches numbered
several hundred, and, armed to the teeth as they were, brave, daring,
and mounted upon the best of horses, they were as formidable a party
as if they were composed of so many white desperadoes of the border.
A month before they would have walked over this party of pioneers; but
there is no teacher like experience, and in the long journey across
the plains, marked by innumerable skirmishes with the red-skins, the
settlers had acquired a coolness and steadiness under fire which was
invaluable in such emergencies as this.
Sut Simpson still maintained his position, glancing from the
settlement below him to the approaching Apaches, with that quick,
nervous motion which showed only too plainly that he felt a crisis was
at hand, and he could delay only a few moments longer.
It was a thrilling sight, the hurried preparations of the pioneers,
and the swift approach of their assailants. The latter came in no
regular order, but swept along like so many Centaurs, at first well
together, but, as they approached the valley, gradually separating and
spreading out, like a slowly opening fan, until the crescent was
several hundred yards in breadth, and it looked as if they intended to
surround the settlement.
Such being their apparent purpose, the hunter speedily saw that it
would not do to stay another second. He had come to warn the whites
of their danger, and now that it had burst upon them, be emphasized
his good intentions by dashing down the valley, and, leaping from the
back of his mustang, took his place among a dozen defenders who were
gathered in the building with the women and children.
His horse was covered with foam and sweat, for his master had ridden
like Paul Revere, and he needed the rest that was now given him. He
possessed extraordinary intelligence, and Sut knew that he could be
thoroughly depended upon in case matters got mixed, and a stampede was
attempted by the assailants.
There was no dilly-dallying. The most serious kind of business
impended, and all were forced to prepare for it. In a twinkling, as
it seemed, the hurry, bustle, and confusion suddenly ceased.
Everything settled down into quiet, and the defenders, with their
loaded rifles, calmly awaited the assault that was soon to be made.
As the Apaches neared the valley, they gradually slackened their
speed, but all reached the margin, from which they could look down
upon the pioneers, with their steeds upon a gallop, and then, without
checking them, branched still further apart, and, speeding down the
slope, began the battle forthwith.
In an instant the sharp crack! crack! of rifles was heard from
different directions, as the Apaches opened fire upon the whites, who
showed an equal readiness in replying. The Indians never allowed
their steeds to rest. They were constantly in motion, back and forth,
round and round, circling here and there, seemingly at times in
inextricable confusion, but with a certain system, as shown in the
evolutions of a large party upon a stage, and with the result of never
interfering with one another's efficiency.
Some of the Apaches, in the very wantonness of their skillful
horsemanship, threw themselves from side to side upon the backs of
their steeds, firing under the neck or belly with as much accuracy as
if from the saddle. None of them were furnished with the regulation
saddle; some had blankets, while the most were mounted bareback.
Their skill was little short of the marvelous. Again and again, one
of the red-skins would make a lunge over the side of his animal, as
though he were going to plunge headlong into the earth; but, catching
his toe over the spine of his horse, he would sustain himself
apparently by no other means, while he kept up his fusilade. When his
horse wheeled, so as to expose the rider to the fire of the whites,
the Indian would quickly swing over the other side, where he would
continue the same demonstrations.
Thus it was that within five minutes after the Apaches came down in
the valley, the settlement was surrounded by the several hundred, who
were circling back and forth, and sending in their shots, whenever the
opportunity presented itself.
The wood to which frequent reference has been made, it will be
remembered, was situated some distance from the settlement, and, as
Fred Munson was perched in a tree upon the other side, many of the
gyrating horsemen were frequently shut out from his view by the
intervening trees; but enough was constantly in view to keep his
excitement up to the highest pitch, and to cause him to forget his own
prominence as a target.
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