Books: In the Pecos Country
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Lieutenant R.H. Jayne >> In the Pecos Country
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As has been already said, the settlers, from behind their
intrenchments, were prompt in returning the fire of their assailants.
The effect upon persons who had never been brought in collision with
Indians would have been to bewilder and terrify them. It is very
probable that such was one of the principal objects of the Apaches in
making their attack as they did; but it failed utterly in that
respect. Carefully avoiding any exposure of themselves, they popped
away right and left, the reports of the rifles mingling together,
while the warriors, as they tumbled to the ground here and there,
showed how effectual the defense of the pioneers was.
The Apaches scarcely expected such a vigorous defense, and, after
losing several of their best men, they widened their circle so as to
avoid such a close range, and fired more seldom, but with greater
care.
New Boston was a peculiarly built, or rather laid out, city. If Caleb
Barnwell committed an absurdity in attempting to plant a settlement in
the valley of the Rio Pecos, when the entire surrounding country was
hostile, he showed some wisdom in the manner in which he conducted
matters after the attempt was made. The town was in an irregular
circle, with a grassy court in the centre, in which were pitched their
horses.
Knowing how indispensable these animals were to men in such
circumstances, there could be but little doubt that the Apaches would
make a desperate attempt to stampede them, and the whites were
therefore on the look-out for such an effort. Not only Sut Simpson,
but Barnwell and a number of the principal men, held fire after the
first repulse, so as to meet such an essay at the very instant it was
attempted.
The Apaches edged away some distance, under the galling fire of the
pioneers, until the watchful hunter saw them hurriedly massing on the
slope above. He knew the meaning of that the moment he perceived the
action.
"Be ready! they're coming for the animals!" he shouted, in a voice so
loud that the words were distinctly heard by Fred Munson from his
perch in the tree.
All those who held empty rifles hastily reloaded them, and the others,
raising the hammers of their weapons, fixed their eyes upon the
hideously painted forms, which resembled so many demons about to sweep
down upon them. There was barely time for preparation, and in another
minute the horde came rushing down the slope, like a mountain torrent,
their objective point being the square where the horses were secured.
Before they could reach them, however, the settlers poured in their
most murderous volleys, bringing many a glaring red-skin to earth,
wounding a number of their animals, and creating such a panic that the
foremost swerved off to the right and dashed up the valley, followed
by the others, while the property of the whites remained uninjured.
The first attack of the Apaches resulted in a repulse, and that, too,
when led by Lone Wolf; but the peril was not past. That war-chief had
learned the situation fully, and there was no danger of his repeating
this blunder. The next time he was sure to succeed.
CHAPTER VII
IN A TREE
All this passed in much less time than has been necessary to describe
it. Not until Fred Munson saw that the Apaches were repulsed did he
reflect upon the startling fact that there was no one among all the
settlers that was placed in as perilous a position as he.
The red-skins were between him and the houses, or fortifications, as
they may be considered. He was alone, and although he had no gun in
his possession, yet it cannot be supposed that his situation would
have been any less dangerous on that account. In the excitement of
interest, he had climbed to the highest attainable portion of the
tree, where he not only had a good view of the thrilling contest going
on under his very eyes, but where the contestants themselves, had they
chosen to glance toward him, could have obtained an equally good view
of him. Whether or not they had done so remained to be seen.
"My stars! I hope they have n't seen me," muttered the terrified lad,
as he began retreating toward the trunk, with the intent of descending
to the ground. "If they have, I'm a goner, that's certain."
The Apaches, although defeated, and driven beyond range of the
settlers' rifles, did not withdraw altogether. Reaching a point
several hundred yards from the houses, they continued moving about on
their horses, as though reconnoitering from that distance. The
red-skins did not go together, as would have seemed natural under
circumstances, but kept up that peculiar restless movement, as though
it were impossible for them to settle down into anything like quiet.
This action upon their part threw a number of the red horsemen among
the woods, where Fred was perched, so that he had every reason for
being alarmed.
He was a skillful climber, however, and when he reached the trunk he
moved down it, with the nimbleness of a monkey, taking care, however,
not to be too rapid or sudden, as the movement might attract notice.
Then, too, he had the benefit of a denser vegetable growth, in which
he thought it quite possible to conceal himself even from an Indian
passing beneath.
"If they have n't noticed me," he reflected, as he crouched upon a
limb, and looked and listened, "I've a good chance of keeping out of
their sight altogether. It's a pity I had n't had enough sense to
think of all this before."
He continued creeping down the tree, until he was within twenty feet
or so of the ground, when he paused, deeming it hardly safe to descend
to the solid earth until matters looked a little less threatening.
Fred was in a bad predicament, and he was sorely puzzled to decide
what was best to do. There could be no doubt that numbers of Indians
were in the wood around him, and if he descended to the ground he ran
that much more danger of falling into their hands. He could not avoid
a strong suspicion that he had been seen, and that his movements had
been watched and understood for some time past.
"I should n't think those Apaches would consider a boy like me of much
account," he muttered; "but if they have a chance to grab me, I s'pose
they will. I'm sure I saw Lone Wolf at tht head of the attacking
party, and he'll want to pay me up for that big scare I gave him last
night."
The afternoon was well advanced, and he finally concluded to stay
where he was, provided the red-skins permitted him to do so; so he
crawled into the place, where he seemed the best protected by the
surrounding vegetation and branches, and, crouching down, he awaited
the coming of darkness with an anxiety which can scarcely be
described.
It will be understood that he had come down so low in the tree that he
could see nothing of his friends on the other side of the wood. He
was so near the margin that his view on the right was comparatively
unobstructed. Occasionally he caught sight of a horseman in the
distance, but the majority of the red-skins were in other directions.
Now and then the crack of a rifle broke the stillness, which was so
perfect that he distinctly caught the sound of the hoofs of the
mustangs, as they whirled and spun hither and thither.
When one is placed in such a position as was Fred, his imagination is
sure to be very active, and, time and again, he was sure that he heard
the stealthy tread of a moccasin upon the leaves below. All this,
however, was not imagination; for he had not been on his perch more
than half an hour, when, peering downward through the leaves, he saw
the unmistakable figure of an Indian, gliding along in the stealthy
manner peculiar to that race. The heart of the lad throbbed
violently, and he grasped the limb more tightly, watching every
movement of the red-skin.
"He must be looking for me," was his thought. "He saw me in the tree,
and he has now come to kill or take me away."
He was sure that that particular Apache was not Lone Wolf, although he
could not be certain that any advantage was to be reaped from that.
The chief was not likely to be more devoid of anything like mercy than
was the greatest or humblest of his warriors.
The red-skin was on foot, and bore a rifle in his hand. Instead of
the fanciful scalp-lock ornamenting his crown, his black, wiry hair
straggled down around his shoulders, over which was thrown a dirty
army blanket, that had once belonged to the United States government.
The hideous paint upon his face was easily seen from the perch of the
lad, and the red-skin was as repulsive and dreaded an object as can be
imagined.
The scamp was moving along with that stealthy, cat-like tread which is
characteristic of all his race; but although directly under the tree
when first seen by the lad, he did not look up nor act in any way
which would suggest that he suspected the presence of anyone over him.
He did not hesitate in his movement, and thus it was that he was
scarcely seen when he disappeared in the wood beyond, and the boy was
alone.
Fred was now fully satisfied that it would not do to leave the tree so
long as a particle of daylight remained. Apaches were too plentiful
in those parts.
"I s'pose they'll hang around till night, though I can't see what
they're going to make by it," said the boy to himself. "They've tried
to clear out Mr. Barnwell and the rest of them, but could n't begin to
do it, and now it won't do them any good to stay here. It'll be
pretty risky for me to try and get into the house after dark, but they
know I am out here and they will be looking for me. And then
Mickey--"
At the mention of the Irishman's name, Fred suddenly stopped with a
start, for he was reminded of a fact which had escaped him until that
moment. Mickey O'Rooney had gone out on a little scout of his own,
some hours before, and he had not yet returned, so that his situation,
in one sense, was like his own. But he manifestly had greater
advantage, for he was not only fully armed, but was mounted on one of
the fleetest mustangs of the West; so that, unless he ran into some
trap, he need fear no disturbance from them.
"I only wish I was with him," reflected Fred, "mounted upon Hurricane.
I wouldn't mind a little run into some of these Apaches that think
they are such wonderful riders."
As has been intimated in another place, young Munson had been
furnished with one of the finest of prairie steeds--one whose speed,
endurance, and intelligence was extraordinary. There was naturally a
great attachment between the two, and Fred would have been off most of
the time, skimming over the prairie, had he been allowed to do so, but
Hurricane was in the group in the centre of the settlement, with the
others, which the Indians had tried so hard to stampede, and he was as
difficult to reach, under the circumstances, as were his friends
themselves.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SWOOP OF THE APACHE
The afternoon dragged slowly by with Fred crouching, as he was, in the
top of the tree and waiting for the time to come when he might descend
and make the attempt to rejoin his friends, who could not but be
greatly concerned over his absence. At rare intervals, the spiteful
crack of a rifle reached his ear as before, and he knew that the white
and red men were watching each other, both ready to seize the first
opportunity that might offer for obtaining the slighest advantage.
The occasional clamping of the hoofs of a galloping horse showed, too,
that his dreaded foes were close at hand.
Finally, the sun disappeared, and darkness slowly settled over wood,
forest, and prairie. There was the moon, shining as bright and
unclouded as on the night before; but the shadow was so dense among
the trees that this was of no particular importance, and so soon as
night was fairly come the impatient lad was resolved upon making the
attempt to reach his friends.
No Apaches had been seen beneath the tree since the departure of the
first stealthy visitor, and the hope was quite strong within the lad
that in the hurry and swirl of the fight the red-skins had failed to
note him in his hiding-place. If such were really the case, it would
seem that there was a chance of his passing through the lines without
detection.
"Anyhow, I am going to try it," he muttered, with set teeth, as he
resumed his cautious descent of the tree.
A moment later he found himself upon the nethermost limb, where he
hesitated a few seconds, peering around in the breathless darkness and
listening for anything that might betray the location of his enemies.
The silence of the tomb seemed to have settled upon the earth, and,
hanging by his hands a moment, he let go and dropped lightly to the
ground. As he did so, he purposely sank upon his hands and knees, in
the belief that he was less liable to be seen in that position than in
any other.
The signs continued favorable, and, without any useless waiting, he
turned his face in the direction of New Boston and began stealing
forward, with the care and caution of a veteran courser of the plains.
There was a fluttering hope that, with the coming of night, the
red-skins had departed, but he knew better than to rely upon any such
chance to reach his friends. If they had really gone, he would have
heard something from Sut Simpson.
No more trying ordeal can be imagined than that which Fred endured
when he attempted thus to steal his way through the Apache lines to
his friends. He crept along upon his hands and knees, for he dared
not trust himself in an upright posture, and he studiously avoided all
those places through which the rays of the moonlight made their way.
There was scarcely a minute in which he did not fancy that he heard
the stealthy movement of some one near him, and stopped and lay flat
upon his face, remaining thus until hopeful that it was safe to move
forward again. And this apprehension was not always imaginary. Two
separate times the sound of footsteps were too distinct to be
mistaken, and the glimpse obtained of a shadowy figure, as it flitted
across a partially moonlit space, was equally conclusive.
Almost an hour had passed, when Fred finally found himself on the edge
of the open area which separated the wood from the settlement. Thus
far he had evaded all danger and only a comparatively small space
remained to be passed over in order to reach the haven of safety.
The boy assumed an upright position, and, standing in the shadow of
the wood, debated with himself as to the best means of getting over
that narrow but dangerous neck of territory which still interposed.
It would be useless to attempt to creep over it, for the moon would be
sure to reveal him to the Indians that were lurking near, and it was
not likely that he could advance a dozen yards without detection. If
it were possible, by drawing himself along on his face, to elude the
vigilance of the Apaches, it would be clearly impossible to escape
being discerned by his own friends. At such a time, the entire
company would be on the look-out for just such insidious advances, and
the chances were that he would be taken for a savage and shot by his
own friends.
Fred was compelled to do a good deal of thinking, and the conclusion
he came to was the next best possible to reach. Clearly, the wiser
course was for him to remain where he was for the time being. So long
as darkness remained, it was comparatively easy for him to keep
concealed, and, while the situation could not have grown any worse,
with the passage of the night, the chances were that it would improve,
as the way for a safe run across the exposed area would have shown
itself in due time. But it was natural that the boy should become
impatient, and he easily persuaded himself that his position became
more critical each moment.
He decided to make a run straight for the larger building, depending
not upon concealment but upon speed. He expected to be fired at, and
probably chased by some of the Apaches, but there was a reasonable
chance of his escaping both. The distance was short, and he was sure
to gain a good start at the beginning; but his main reliance was upon
his being recognized by his friends, who would cover his flight.
Having decided upon this course, he did not delay its execution a
moment, since delay foreboded so much.
Breathing a prayer to heaven to guide him safely, he drew in a deep
breath, and, leaping full into the moonlit space, started through his
fiery gauntlet.
For a second or two the tomb-like silence continued, and then he heard
several hoarse, crow-like calls, which he knew were made by the
Apaches. Then came several rifle reports, but he was not injured. It
showed, however, that his flight had been discovered. Fred had
nothing to do, however, but to run, and he put on the utmost speed to
which he could force himself, straining every nerve in the hope of
making the log-house, which seemed to recede as he advanced.
Silence succeeded the shots and shouts, and the heart of the young
fugitive was throbbing with a wild hope, when a noise caused him to
look over his shoulder. To his horror, he perceived an Indian runner
on foot, and within a dozen feet, bearing down upon him with the speed
of the wind. The poor lad felt as if weighed down by a horrible
nightmare, but he bent to his work with the desperation of dispair.
It was useless.
His speed was not one half as great as that of the trained Apache, who
bounded forward like a panther, and the next instant griped his horny
fingers in the arm of Fred, who uttered a wail, and sank like one
dying.
At that moment, the sharp, penetrating crack of a rifle came from the
direction of the large building, and the warrior, with an
ear-splitting screech, threw up his hands, and fell backward.
"Run, you young beaver! Thar's a chance for you yet!"
The ringing voice of Sut Simpson, aroused the boy, who, finding
himself loose from the grasp of the Indian, bounded forward again.
But he had scarcely done so, when the tramp of horses' hoofs were
heard, and a warrior, more daring than the others, sent his mustang
forward with arrowy swiftness, not behind the lad, but directly in
front of him, so that he was compelled to turn to one side, in the
attempt to dodge him.
Detecting his purpose, a fusilade of rifles was kept up from the
houses, but the Apache seemed to escape them all; and, throwing
himself on the opposite side of the horse, so as to interpose the body
of the latter between himself and his enemies, and, without checking
his speed, he reached down, and catching the bewildered lad, dashed up
the slope, bearing him away in triumph.
CHAPTER IX
IN LONE WOLF'S CLUTCHES
Poor Fred Munson struggled with the vigor of desperation to escape the
clutches of the Indian, who swooped down upon him in the fashion
described, but it was in vain; and he scarcely heard the thunder of
the horses' hoofs and saw the figure of the rushing mustang, when he
was snatched up by the muscular and far-reaching Apache, and borne
away amid the shower of bullets, which hurtled as harmlessly about the
red rider and his steed as if the two bore charmed lives.
The daring warrior who performed this remarkable feat had no sooner
secured the boy than he righted himself on the back of his horse,
sitting bolt upright, while, almost at the same instant, the dead run
was toned down to a moderate walk. Turning his head, the Apache
emitted several tantalizing whoops, intended to irritate the whites
into firing.
Although he was within easy rifle-shot, no one essayed to fire, and he
knew none would do so. Not even that skillful marksman, Sut Simpson,
dared make the trial, for the painted body of the sinewy red-skin was
covered by that of the boy, whom he held in front of him, and he who
fired at the wretch was much more likely to kill the lad so cunningly
held in his arms. Thus it was that the captor made off with his
prize, and no one was able to check him, although the hearts of the
whites were burning with rage and with the desire to shoot the Apache
who had baffled them so utterly.
Fred was still struggling, in the frantic hope of twisting himself
loose from the grasp of the redskin, when the latter spoke in his
harsh, guttural voice:
"Stop, or I'll kill."
This was said in the best of English, and the boy was astonished, as
may well be supposed, at the linguistic accomplishment of the Indian.
At first he imagined that it was a white man painted and disguised,
but one searching glance not only removed that impression, but
revealed the identity of his captor. It was Lone Wolf, whom he had
baffled the night before in the wood.
"It's all up with me now," was the thought of Fred, when this
intelligence flashed upon him. "He will never forgive me for the way
I stopped him last night. How sorry I am that I didn't shoot him when
I had such a good chance!"
For one minute he thought of appealing to his mercy, but a brief
reflection convinced him that that was worse than useless, and he
abandoned the idea as absurd. He was old enough to know that Indians
are merciless.
It will be remembered that night was closing in when Fred was captured
and a few minutes later, when he turned his head back toward New
Boston, he was unable to distinguish a single house.
The mustang bearing captor and prisoner dropped into an easy gallop,
passing entirely out of the valley and a short distance over the
prairie, where, when he halted, he found himself amid some thirty or
forty mounted Apaches. Here a halt was made and the red-skins engaged
in a consultation, which, as a matter of course, was conducted in
their own language, and, consequently, was unintelligible to the lad,
who was as deeply interested as any of them in the proceedings.
The scene was a strange one, and was so firmly impressed upon his
memory that he was sure he could not forget it if he lived a hundred
years. The Indians he saw now for the first time with their animals
perfectly motionless. They were grouped around their chief in an
irregular circle, and in the gathering darkness, with their long,
coarse, black hair dangling over their shoulders; their low, scarcely
perceptible foreheads; broad, misshapen, painted faces and their
hideous figures, they formed as unearthly a scene as can be conjured
up. Several persisted in talking at the same moment, and they
indulged liberally in gesture, so that it was very apparent that
something exciting was before the convention.
What it was, Fred could not conjecture satisfactorily to himself. He
could not believe that he himself was regarded of sufficient
importance to cause any such discussion, and from what he had heard of
the war-chief, it did not seem probable that he would allow any such
wrangle over a prisoner which he had in his own possession. It surely
was over some other matter, probably concerning the action of the
Apaches, regarding which he had invited discussion; but whatever it
was, Fred could only content himself with looking and listening.
The lad felt that he was as helpless as an infant, and, now that he
had been given time to collect his senses, he stopped making any
further effort to escape from his captor. Knowing the uncontrollable
temper of the Indians, he resolved not to provoke an outburst by any
action of his own. The wonder with him was, that the chief did not
kill him the minute he found that he was in his power. They had not
shown any desire to make prisoners, when it was so much more easy to
rid themselves of their captives by a blow from the tomahawk or the
thrust of the knife.
"I suppose they mean to do something dreadful with me," was the
thought of Fred, as he shudderingly looked around upon the repulsive
group.
There could be but little doubt of that, and he could do nothing but
ask heaven to protect him in the terrible danger in which he was
placed. At such a time a person's mind is unusually active and a
hundred schemes agitated the mind of the young captive--schemes which,
when analyzed by the clear light of reason, were about as
unsubstantial as the fabric of a dream. Fred felt that if he was not
killed immediately there was some chance for him. A few hours, or at
least a day or two, would give time for his friends to do something.
Mickey O'Rooney, upon returning to the settlement (as he would have to
do sooner or later), would not consent to remain there as long as the
fate of his young friend was in doubt. And there was Sut Simpson, the
hunter, who had taken so much pains to come and warn the settlers of
the impending attack. He had witnessed the capture of the lad and was
certain to do all he could to rescue him. His long experience in the
west, and his numerous encounters with these Indians, had given him a
knowledge which would be of great value in such an emergency. Fred
recalled too, that he had heard it stated more than once that the
Indians frequently took prisoners for the purpose of ransom, and that
he might be restored in this manner so soon as communication could be
opened between the Apaches and his friends.
It so happened, therefore, as the minutes passed, that something like
the renewal of hope came to the heart of the lad, who had reached the
conclusion that the subject under discussion did not relate to
himself.
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