Down the dark street rumbled the Dearborn, rocking perilously, the clatter of the running horses filling the narrow way with clamor. Sprinting at top speed behind it came barefoot soldiers: And then a human avalanche burst from a pitch dark passage-way. The Dearborn rocked on and turned a corner; the soldiers groped like blinded, half-stunned swimmers and as the secretive moments passed, they stumbled to their feet and staggered back again with garbled tales ofprowling monsters, and crossed themselves continuously. About the time the frightened soldiers reached the house they had set out from, four Indians crept along an adobe wall and knocked a signal on the studded planks of a heavy, warehouse door. There came no creaking from its well-oiled hinges as it slowly opened, stopped, and swiftly shut again, and left the dark and smelly courtyard empty.
THE RENDEZVOUS
Enoch Birdsall stared in amazement at the four he had admitted, despite the remembrance of the names they had whispered through the crack of the partly opened door, the light from a single candle making gargoyles of their hideously painted faces. Alonzo Webb was peering along the barrel of a newfangled Colt, his eyes mere pin-points of concentration, his breathing nearly suspended.
Hank's low, throaty laughter filled the dim building and he slapped Tom on the shoulder. "Didn't I say I could fix us up so our own mothers wouldn't know us?" he demanded.
"God help us!" said Enoch in hopelessly inadequate accents as he groped behind him for his favorite cask. He seated himself with great deliberation. "When Turley's man Allbright brought aroun' yer rifles in a packload o' hay, I knowed we'd be seein' ye soon; an' he told us plain that four Injuns had left 'em with him. But; h—l!"
Alonzo had cautiously put away the Colt and was readjusting his facial expression to suit the changed conditions. Then he suddenly leaned back against a bale of tobacco leaf, jammed an arm tightly against his mouth, and laughed until he was limp.
Zeb Houghton glared at him in offended dignity,not knowing just what to say, but determined to say something. He felt embarrassed and slightly huffed. "Caravan have airy trouble arter we left it?" he asked.
"Trouble?" queried Enoch, a wise grin wreathing his face. "Some o' us made more profits this year than we ever did afore. Soon's we found thar warn't no custom guard ter meet us at Cold Spring, thanks ter them Texans, we sent some riders ahead from th' ford o' th' Canadian, an' Woodson held th' caravan thar in camp fer a couple o' days. Them greaserrancherosair half starved 'most all year 'round an' they jumped at th' chance ter earn some good U.S. gold. Some o' us had quite some visitors one night an' some o' th' waggins, ourn among 'em, shore strayed away from th' encampment an' got lost in th' hills. He had said somethin' 'bout not wantin' to waste so much time, an' o' takin' a short-cut; an' everybody war so excited about bein' so clost ter Santer Fe, an' by this time used ter folks goin' on ahead, that we warn't hardly missed. Them that did miss us soon forgot it. We're ahead five hundred dollars a waggin, besides th' other imposts an' th' salve money; our waggins air waitin' fer us when we go back, an' our goods air comin' in from th' ranchos incarretasan' by pack mule, under hay, hoja an' faggots, an' other stuff. Thar's them two axles o' Joe Cooper's that he war so anxious about back at th' Grove an' at every stream we had ter cross. Thar empty now, but thar war plumb full o' high-class contraband when they got here. Woodson slung 'em under one o' his waggins that come through onth' reg'lar trail, an' brought 'em in. Over thar's what's left o' your stuff."
"Have you fellers looked in a glass yit?" demanded Alonzo, taking a mirror from the wall. "Hyar, Boyd, whichever ye air, see what ye look like."
The passing of the mirror and the candle was the cause of much hilarity, and the room was filled with subdued merriment until there came a peculiar knock on the massive door. The candle flame struggled under a box while voices murmured at the portal, and then there came a cautious shuffling of feet until the box was removed.
Joe Cooper's curious glance became a stare and his jaw dropped. Tearing his eyes from the faces of the villainous four he used them to ask a question of the grinning Enoch which his lips were incapable of framing.
Enoch looked at the four. "One o' ye, who knows who's who, interduce yer friends ter Mr. Cooper, o' St. Louis, Missoury," he suggested.
Hank shoved Jim Ogden a step forward. "This 'Rapahoe is Jim Ogden, o' Bent's Fort an' th' Rockies; this other un is Zeb Houghton, o' th' Louisiana Purchase, Mexico an' Texas; hyar's Tom Boyd, hopin' ter save his ear-tabs; an' I'm—" from his mouth sounded the twang of a bowstring.
Uncle Joe sank down on a pile of smuggled Mackinaw blankets, shoved a cigar in his mouth, lit it and took several puffs before he slammed it on the floor and crushed it with his foot. Then he recovered himself, joyously shook hands all around and started a conversation that scorned the flying minutes. During a lull Alonzo looked shrewdly at the cheerful Indians and put his thoughts into words.
"Boys, anythin' we've got is yourn fer th' askin'," he slowly said; "but I'd hate ter reckon it war through me an' Enoch that ye lost yer lives, an' yer ears. We all war clost friends in Independence an' on th' trail. Clost friends o' yourn air goin' ter be watched like sin from now on. Tom Boyd an' his friends left th' caravan ter go ter Bent's—an' a passel o' greasers went arter 'em hot foot. Mebby th' first gang didn't git ter Bent's—an' it's shore th' greasers ain't showed up yit—not one o' them. Bad as Armijo is he ain't no fool by a danged sight. Fer yer own sakes ye better stay with Armstrong till ye leave th' city. Now that I've warned ye, I don't give a cuss what ye do; yer welcome ter stay hyar till yer bones rot—an' ye know it."
Tom nodded. "Yer right, Alonzo. I just got a brand new reason fer livin' till th' return caravan gits past th' Arkansas. Patience Cooper hasgotto go with it; she ain't a-goin' ter spend no winter hyar, if I kin help it—an' if she does stay, then I do, too, ears or no ears." His face tensed, his eyes gleaming with hatred through the paint and dirt. "I come nigh ter commitin' murder tonight. 'Twasn't my fault that I didn't."
Hank clapped him on the shoulder and turned to Uncle Joe. "We war all a-lookin' in at th' fandango," he explained. "It war a mighty clost shave fer th' sheep-stealin' shepherd o' Chavez rancho, that growed up ter be governor. If 'twarn't fer th' gal I'd never 'a' grabbed Boyd."
Uncle Joe shook his head. "There'll be trouble comin' out o' that," he declared. "We couldn't do nothin' else, but Armijo'll never rest till he wipes out th' insult o' our turnin' our backs on him an' leavin' like we did. An' did ye see th' look she gave him? D——d if it wasn't worth th' trip from Missouri to see it! Us Americans ain't loved a whole lot out here, an' them blessed Texans has gone an' made things worse. I wish we all were rollin' down to th' Crossin'. Patience is goin' back. I've arguedthatout, anyhow; right up to th' handle!"
"Get her out of townnow," urged Tom, wriggling forward on his box. "Us four'll whisk her up to Bent's, an' jine ye at th' Crossin'."
"If we do that her father will have to leave, too," replied Uncle Joe; "an' he's stubborn as a mule, Adam is. He says it'll be forgotten, an' if we make a play like that it'll raise th' devil."
"When her safety is at stake?" sharply demanded Tom.
"He says she ain't in no danger. Him an' Armijo is real friendly. Adam is th' one man th' Americans in this town depend on ter git 'em a little justice. I've been arguin' with him tonight, an' I aim to keep on arguin'; but he's set. I know Adam."
Tom cursed and arose to his feet. "An'IknowArmijo! I know his vile history like a book, for I took pains to learn it. His whole career is built on treachery, sheep-stealin', double-dealin' and assassination. He robbed Chavez of thousands of sheep—even stealing them and selling them back to their rightful owner. He sold one little flock back toChavez over a dozen times, an' had stolen it from him in th' beginnin'. Then he dealtmonteand made a pile. Then he was made chief custom house officer in this town, got caught at some of his tricks an' kicked out. Governor Perez put another man in his place. The condition of politics in Mexico worked in Armijo's favor and he stirred up a ferment, headed a conspiracy, raised a force of about a thousand Mexicans an' Pueblo Indians up at La Canada, and when Perez moved against him Perez's troops went over to Armijo and the old governor had to flee to this town, and out of it on th' jump. With him went a score or so of his personal friends; but the next day the little party was caught, more than a dozen of them put to death, an' Perez was murdered in the outskirts of this town and his body dragged around through the streets. Armijo had not shown his hand openly and the new governor was one of the active leaders of the insurrection. This did not suit Armijo, who was playing for big stakes, and he started another revolution, adopted Federalism for a cloak, drove the insurgent governor from the city, later shot him and, after declaring himself governor, had his appointment made official by the Federal government at Mexico City, and ever since has played tyrant without a check. That's Adam Cooper's so-called friend. That's the man he trusts. God help Adam; an' God help Armijo if he harms Patience Cooper!"
His friends nodded, for they knew that he spoke the truth; and Uncle Joe thoughtlessly lit another cigar before he remembered its make. "Adam's last cent is sunk out here," he remarked. "He says heain't goin' to turn himself inter a pauper an' flee for his life just because his fool brother is a-scared of shadows. He says th' beast was drunk tonight an' didn't know what he was doin'."
Tom spread out his hands helplessly, and then clenched them. He paced a few turns and stopped again. "All right, Uncle Joe; he's her father and he's backin' his best judgment. I'm an outsider an' have nothin' to say. Boys," he said, looking at his three hunter friends, "we got work ter do. We got ter watch Patience Cooper every minute that she's out o' th' house. Thar's too much at stake fer us to rendezvous hyar, we'll stay at Armstrong's. Enoch, git our rifles over thar as soon as ye kin. I want another repeatin' pistol, in a leather case, to hang under my shirt, below my left arm-pit. Thank th' Lord that Turley's plantin' a relay fer us up in th' mountains; I'm bettin' we'll need it bad." He looked at Hank. "Bet it's eighty mile to that place, ain't it?"
"Th' way we come it is," replied the hunter. "I know a straighter trail that ain't got so many people livin' along it. It's twenty mile shorter, but harder travelin'."
"If thar's anybody at Bent's ranch on th' Purgatoire, we might pick up a re-mount thar," muttered Tom. "That'd give us fresh hosses fer th' last ninety miles to th' fort; but we'll have ter cross th' wagon road ter git thar."
"We'll use that fer th' second bar'l," said Hank. "I know a better way, over an old Ute trail leadin' toward th' Bayou Salade; but we'll have hosses atBent's ranch if I kin git word ter Holt, Carson or Bill Bent. We better go 'round an' see Armstrong right away; he may know o' somebody that's goin' up on th' trail through Raton Pass. He'll do anythin' fer me."
"Cover th' candle," said Tom. "Give us our rifles; we kin carry 'em all right at this time o' night, with everybody stayin' indoors on account o' th' Texans. Any time ye have news fer us, Enoch, an' can't git it ter Armstrong's, set a box outside th' door."
"It'll be stole," said Enoch, grinning.
"Then set somethin' else out."
"That'll be stole, too."
"What will?"
"Anythin' we put out."
"God help us!" ejaculated Uncle Joe. "Try a busted bottle."
"Glass?" laughed Alonzo, derisively. "No good. If you kin think o' anythin' that won't be stole, I shore want to larn o' it." He considered a moment. "Hyar! If I git flour on my elbow an' brush ag'in th' door, we got news fer ye. I don't think they kin steal that, not all o' it, anyhow!"
Enoch nodded. "If thar's any news we'll git it. This is th' meetin' place o' most o' th' Americans hyar. Thar banded purty clost together an' have made Armijo change his tune a couple o' times. Onct they war accused o' conspiracy ag'in th' government, which war a danged lie, an' th' scarecrow troops war ordered out ag'in 'em; but we put up such a fierce showin' that Armijo climbed down from his high hoss an' nothin' come o' it except hard feelin's. That'sone o' th' reasons, I reckon, why Adam Cooper ain't worryin' as much as he might about his dater's safety. An' lookin' at it from a reasonable standpoint, I'm figgerin' he's right. Boyd, hyar, would worry powerful ifshegot a splinter in her finger."
After the laughter had subsided and a little more talk the four plainsmen slipped out of the building and cautiously made their way to Armstrong's store and dwelling where, after a whispered palaver at the heavy door, they were admitted by the sleepy owner of the premises and shown where they could spread their blankets. In the faint light of the candle they saw other men lying about on the hard floor, who stirred, grumbled a little, and went back to sleep again.
When they awakened the next morning they recognized two old friends from Bent's Fort, a trader from St. Vrain's, and an American hunter and trapper from the Pueblo near the junction of the Arkansas and Boiling Spring Rivers. The simple breakfast was soon dispatched and gossip and news exchanged, and then Hank led aside a hunter named Hatcher, who stood high at Bent's Fort, and earnestly conversed with him. In a few moments Hank turned, looked reassuringly at Tom and smiled. Bent's little ranch on the Purgatoire was being worked and improved and there would be men and a relay of horses there, providing that the Utes overlooked the valley in the meantime.
All that day they remained indoors and when night came they slipped out, one by one, and drifted back to the corral where theatejostill remained. Theyhad lost their rifles, were sullen and taciturn from too much drink, and paid no attention to the knowing grins of the friendly muleteers. Thenceforth they drew only glances of passing interest on the streets, no one giving a second thought to the stolid, dulled and sodden wrecks in their filthy, nondescript apparel; and the guard at thepalaciogave them cigarettes rolled in corn husks for running errands, and found amusement in playing harmless tricks on them.
At the barracks they were less welcome, Don Jesu and Robideau, both subordinates of Salezar, scarcely tolerating them; while Salezar, himself, kicked them from in front of the door and threatened to cut off their ears if he caught them hanging around the building. They accepted the kicks as a matter of course and thenceforth shrunk from his approach; and he sneered as he thought of their degradation from once proud and vengeful warriors of free and warlike tribes, to fawning beggars with no backbone. But even he, when the need arose, made use of them to fetch and carry for him and to do menial tasks about the mud house he called his home. He had seen many of their kind and wasted no thought on them.
He was the same cruel and brutal tyrant who had herded almost two hundred half-starved and nearly exhausted men over that terrible trail down the valley of the Rio Grande, and his soldiers stood in mortal terror of him and meekly accepted treatment that in any other race would have swiftly resulted in his death. He had played a prominent part in the capture and herding of the Texan prisoners and loved to boast of it at every opportunity, using some of the incidentsas threats to his unfortunate soldiers. Tom and his friends witnessed scenes that made their blood boil more than it boiled over the indignities they elected to suffer, and sometimes it was all they could do to refrain from killing him in his tracks. At the barracks he was a roaring lion, but at thepalacio, in the sight and hearing of the chief jackal, he reminded them of a whipped cur.
TOM RENEGES
As the days passed while waiting for the return of the caravan to Missouri, Patience rode abroad with either her uncle or her father, sometimes in the Dearborn, but more often in the saddle. She explored the ruins of the old church at Pecos, where the Texan prisoners had spent a miserable night; the squalid hamlets of San Miguel, which she had passed through on her way to Santa Fe, and Anton Chico had been visited; the miserable little sheep ranchos had been investigated and other rides had taken her to other outlying districts; but the one she loved best was the trail up over the mountain behind Santa Fe. The almost hidden pack mules and their towering loads of faggots,hoja, hay and other commodities were sights she never tired of, although the scars on some of the meek beasts once in awhile brought tears to her eyes. The muleteers, beneficiaries of her generosity, smiled when they saw her and touched their forelocks in friendly salutation.
On the mountain there was one spot of which she was especially fond. It was a little gully-like depression more than halfway up that seemed to be much greener than the rest of the mountain side, and always moist. The trees were taller and more heavily leafed And threw a shade which, with the coolness of themoist little nook, was most pleasant. It lay not far from the rutted, rough and busy trail over the mountain, which turned and passed below it, theatejosand occasional picturesquecaballeroson their caparisoned horses, passing in review before her and close enough to be distinctly seen, yet far enough away to hide disillusioning details. The mud houses of the town at the foot of the long slope, with their flat roofs, looked much better at this distance and awakened trains of thought which nearness would have forbidden. It was also an ideal place to eat a lunch and she and Uncle Joe or her father made it their turning point.
Her daily rides had given her confidence, and the stares which first had followed her soon changed to glances of idle curiosity. Of Armijo she neither had seen nor heard anything more and scarcely gave him a thought, and the Mexican officers she met saluted politely or ignored her altogether. Her uncle still harped about Santa Fe being no place for her, but, having the assurance that she would return to St. Louis with the caravan, was too wise to press the matter. His efforts were more strongly bent to get his brother to sell out and he had sounded Woodson to see if that trader would take over the merchandise. Adam Cooper seemed to consider closing out his business and returning to Missouri, but he would not sacrifice it, and there the matter hung, swaying first to one side and then to the other. By this time Santa Fe had palled on the American merchant and he had laid by sufficient capital to start in business in St. Louis or one of the frontier towns, and his brother wasconfident that if the stock could be disposed of for a reasonable sum that Adam would join the returning caravan.
It was in the storehouse of Webb and Birdsall one night, about a week before the wagons were being put in shape for the return trip that the matter was settled. Disturbing rumors were floating up from the south about a possible closing of the ports of entry of the Department of New Mexico, due to the dangers to Mexican traders on the long trail because of the presence of Texan raiding parties. The Texans had embittered the feelings of the Mexicans against the Americans, whom they knew to be universally in favor of the Lone Star Republic, and the Texan raids of this summer were taken as a forecast of greater and more determined raids for the following year.
When Adam and Joe Cooper joined the little group in the warehouse on this night, they met two Missourians who had just returned from Chihuahua with a train of eleven wagons. These traders, finding business so good in the far southern market, and having made arrangements with some Englishmen there, who were high in favor with the Federal authorities, were anxious to make another trip if they could load their wagons at a price that would make the journey worth while. They were certain that the next year would find the Mexican ports closed against the overland traffic, eager to clean up what they could before winter set in and to sell their outfits and return by water. They further declared that a tenseness was developing between the Federal government and the United States, carefully hidden at the present, which wouldmake war between the two countries a matter of a short time. Texas was full of people who were urging annexation to the United States, and their numbers were rapidly growing; and when the Lone Star republic became a state in the American federation, war would inevitably follow. Some in the circle dissented wholly or in part, but all admitted that daily Mexico was growing more hostile to Americans.
"Wall, we ain't forcin' our opinions on nobody," said one of the Chihuahua traders. "We believe 'em ourselves, an' we want ter make another trip south. Adam, we've heard ye ain't settled in yer mind about stayin' through another winter hyar. We'll give ye a chanct ter clear out; what ye got in goods, an' what ye want fer'em lock, stock an' bar'l?"
"What they cost us here in Santa Fe," said Uncle Joe quickly, determined to force the issue. "We just brought in more'n two wagon loads, an' what we had on hand will go a long way toward helpin' you fill your wagons. Come around tomorrow, look th' goods over, an' if they suit you, we'll add twelve cents a pound for th' freight charge across th' prairies an' close 'em out to you. Ain't that right, Adam?" he demanded so sharply and truculently that his brother almost surrendered at once. Seeing that they had an ally in Uncle Joe the traders pushed the matter and after a long, haggling discussion, they offered an additional five per cent of the purchase price for a quick decision.
Uncle Joe accepted it on the spot and nudged his brother, who grudgingly accepted the terms if the traders would buy the two great wagons and theirteams. This they promised to do if they could find enough extra goods to fill them, and they soon left the warehouse for fear of showing their elation. They knew where they could sell the wagons at a profit with a little manipulation on the part of their English friend.
Elated by the outcome of his protracted arguments, Uncle Joe hurried around to Armstrong's store and told the news to Tom and his three friends.
"We can get them goods off our hands in two days," he exulted; "an' th' caravan will be ready to leave inside a week. Don't say a word to nobody, boys. We'll try to sneak Adam and Patience out of town so Armijo won't miss 'em till they're on th' trail. Them Chihuahua traders won't disturb th' goods before we start for home because they got to get a lot more to fill their wagons, an' th' merchandise is safer in th' store than it will be under canvas. I wish th' next week was past!"
To wish the transaction kept a secret and to keep it a secret were two different things. The Chihuahua traders found more merchants who felt that they would be much safer in Missouri than in Santa Fe, and the south-bound wagon train was stocked three days before time for the Missouri caravan to leave. There were certain customs regulations relating to goods going through to El Paso and beyond, certain involved and exacting forms to be obtained and filled out, much red tape to be cut with golden shears and many palms to be crossed with specie. Uncle Joe and his brother found that the matter of transferring their goods to the traders took longer than they expected and were busy in the store for several days, leaving Patience to make the most of the short time remaining of her stay in the capital of the Department of New Mexico.
At last came the day when the eastbound caravan was all but ready to start, certain last minute needs arising that kept it in the camp outside the city until the following morning. Busily engaged in its organizing and in numerous personal matters, they told her to stay in the city. Uncle Joe and his brother could not accompany Patience on another ride up the mountain and they understood that she would not attempt one; but she changed her mind and left the town in the care and guidance of a Mexican employee of her father, in whom full trust was reposed. She rode out an hour earlier than was her wont, and when a Delaware Indian called at the house to beg alms from the generous señorita he found the building open and empty. Knowing that the last night was to be spent in the encampment and thinking that she had gone there, as he understood was the plan, he gave little thought to this and wandered back to thePlaza Publicato look for his companions. They were not in sight and he went over to the barracks to seek them there.
Don Jesu swaggered along the side of the building, caught sight of the disreputable Delaware and contemptuously waved him away. "Out of my sight, you drunken beggar and son of a beggar! If I catch you here once more I'll hang you by your thumbs!Vamoose!"
The Delaware stiffened a little and seemed reluctant to obey the command. "I seek my friends," he replied in a guttural polyglot. "I do no harm."
Don Jesu's face flamed and he drew his sword and brought the flat of the blade smartly across the Indian's shoulder. "But once more I tell you tovamoose!Pronto!" He drew back swiftly and threw the weapon into position for a thrust, for he had seen a look flare up in the Indian's eyes that warned him.
The Delaware cringed, muttered something and slunk back along the wall and as he reached the corner of the building he bumped solidly into Robideau, who at that moment turned it. The foot of the second officer could not travel far enough to deliver the full weight of the kick, but the impact was enough to send the Indian sprawling. As he clawed to hands and knees, Robideau stood over him, sword in hand, threats and curses pouring from him in a burning stream. The Indian paused a moment, got control over his rage, ran off a short distance on hands and knees and, leaping to his feet, dashed around the corner of the building to the hilarious and exultant jeers of the sycophantic soldiers. He barely escaped bumping into a huge, screeching and ungainlycarretabeing driven by a soldier and escorted by a squad of his fellows under the personal command of Salezar. The lash of a whip fell across his shoulders and cut through blanket and shirt. The second blow was short and before another could be aimed at him, the Delaware had darted into a passage-way between two buildings.
The officer laughed loudly, nodded at the scowling driver and again felt of the canvas cover of the cart:"The city is full of vermin," he chuckled. "There's not much difference between Texans and Americans, and these sotted Indians. Tomorrow we will be well rid of many of the gringo dogs and we will attend to these strange Indians when this present business has been taken care of. But there is one gringo who will remain with us!" He laughed until he shook. "CaptainSalezar today;Colonel, tomorrow;quien sabe?"
He looked at two of his soldiers, squat, powerful half-breeds, and laughed again. "Jose is a strong man. Manuel is a strong man. Perhaps tomorrow we will give each one of them two Indians and see which can flog the longest and the hardest; but," he warned, his face growing hard and cruel, "the man who bungles his work today will have no ears tomorrow!"
The Delaware, his right hand thrust into his shirt under the dirty blanket, crouched in the doorway and was making the fight of his life against the murderous rage surging through him. The words of the officer reached him well enough, but in his fury were unintelligible. Wild, mad plans for revenge were crowding through his mind, mixed and jumbled until they were nothing more than a mental kaleidoscope, and constantly thrown back by the frantic struggles of reason. He had nursed the thought of revenge, mile after mile, day after day, across the prairies and the desert; but for the last half month he had fought it back for the safety his freedom might give to the woman he loved.
The grotesque, ungainly cart rumbled and bumped,clacked and screeched down the street, farther and farther away and still he crouched in the doorway. The sounds died out, but still he remained in the sheltering niche. Finally his hand emerged from under the blanket and fell to his side, and a wretched Indian slouched down the street toward thePlaza Publica. In command of himself once more he shuffled over to the guard house in thepalacioand leaned against the wall, the welt on his back burning him to the soul, as Armijo's herald stepped from the main door, blew his trumpet and announced the coming of the governor. Pedestrians stopped short and bowed as the swarthy tyrant stalked out to his horse, mounted and rode away, his small body-guard clattering after him. The Delaware, to hide the expression on his face, bowed lower and longer than anyone and then slyly produced a plug of smuggled Kentucky tobacco and slipped it to the sergeant of the guard.
"They'll catch you yet, you thief of the North," warned the sergeant, shaking a finger at the stolid Indian. "And when they do you'll hang by the thumbs, or lose your ears." He grinned and shoved the plug into his pocket, not seeming to be frightened by becoming an accessory after the fact. "Our governor is in high spirits today, and our captain's face is like the mid-day sun. He is a devil with the women, is Armijo and his señora doesn't care a snap. Lucky man, the governor." He laughed and then looked curiously at his silent companion. "Where do you come from, and where do you go?"
The Delaware waved lazily toward the North. "Señor Bent. I return soon."
"Look to it that you do, or thecalabozowill swallow you up in one mouthful. I hear much about thepalacio." He shook his finger and his head, both earnestly.
The Delaware drew back slightly and glanced around. Drawing his blanket about him he turned and slouched away, leaving the plaza by the first street, and made his slinking and apologetic way to Armstrong's, there to wait until dark. His three friends were there already and were rubbing their pistols and rifles, elated that the morrow would find them on the trail again. The two Arapahoes planned to accompany the caravan as far as the Crossing of the Arkansas and there turn back toward Bent's Fort, following the northern branch of the trail along the north bank of the river.
"Better jine us, Tom," urged Jim Ogden. "You an' Hank an' us will stay at th' fort till frost comes, an' then outfit thar an' spend th' winter up in Middle Park."
"Or we kin work up 'long Green River an' winter in Hank's old place," suggested Zeb Houghton, rubbing his hands. "Thar'll be good company in Brown's Hole; an' mebby a scrimmage with th' thievin' Crows if we go up that way. Yer nose will be outer jint in th' Missouri settlements. I know a couple o' beaver streams that ain't been teched yit." He glanced shrewdly at the young man. "It's good otter an' mink country, too. We'll build a good home camp an' put up some lean-tos at th' fur end o' th' furtherest trap lines. Th' slopes o' th' little divides air thick with timber fer our marten traps, an' th' tops air bare.Fox sets up thar will git plenty o' pelts. I passed through it two year ago an' can't hardly wait ter git back ag'in. It's big enough fer th' hull four o' us."
"Thar's no money in beaver at a dollar a plew," commented Hank, watching his partner out of the corner of his eye. "Time war when it war worth somethin', I tell ye; but them days air past—an' th' beaver, too, purty nigh. I remember one spring when I got five dollars a pound fer beaver from ol' Whiskey Larkin. Met him on th' headwaters o' th' Platte. He paid me that then an' thar, an' then had ter pack it all th' way ter Independence. But it's different with th' other skins, an' us four shore could have a fine winter together."
"It's allus excitin' ter me ter wait till th' pelts prime, settin' in a good camp with th' traps strung out, smokin' good terbaker an' eatin' good grub," said Ogden, reminiscently. "Then th' frosts set in, snow falls an' th' cold comes ter stay; an' we web it along th' lines settin' traps fer th' winter's work. By gosh! What ye say, Tom?"
Tom was studying the floor, vainly trying to find a way to please his friends and to follow the commands of an urging he could not resist. For him the mating call had come, and his whole nature responded to it with a power which would not be denied. On one hand called the old life, the old friends to whom he owed so much; a winter season with them in a good fur country, with perfect companionship and the work he loved so dearly; on the other the low, sweet voice of love, calling him to the One Woman and to trails untrod. The past was dead, living only in memory;the future stirred with life and was rich in promise. He sighed, slowly shook his head and looked up with moist eyes, glancing from one eager face to another.
"I'm goin' back ter Missoury," he said in a low voice. "Thar's a question I got ter ask, back thar, when th' danger's all behind an' it kin be asked fair. If th' answer is 'no' I promise ter jine ye at Bent's or foller after. Leave word fer me if ye go afore I git thar. But trappin' is on its last legs, an' th' money's slippin' out o' it, like fur from a pelt in th' spring; 'though I won't care a dang about that if I has ter turn my back on th' settlements." His eyes narrowed and his face grew hard. "Jest now I'm worryin' about somethin' else. Here I am in Santer Fe, passin' Armijo an' Salezar every day, an' have ter turn my back on one of th' big reasons fer comin' hyar. Thar's a new welt acrost my back that burns through th' flesh inter my soul like a livin' fire. Thar's an oath I swore on th' memory of a close friend who war beaten an' starved an' murdered; an' now I'm a lyin' dog, an' my spirit's turned ter water!" He leaped up and paced back and forth across the little room like a caged panther.
Hank cleared his throat, his painted face terrible to look upon. "Hell!" he growled, squirming on his box. "Them as know ye, Tom Boyd, know ye ain't neither dog ner liar! Takes a good man ter stand what ye have, day arter day, feelin' like you do, an' keep from chokin' th' life outer him. We've all took his insults, swallered 'em whole without no salt; ye wouldn't sayallo' us war dogs an' liars, would ye? Tell ye what; we've been purty clost, you an'me—suppose I slip back from th' Canadian an' git his ears fer ye? 'Twon't be no trouble, an' I won't be gone long. Reckon ye'd feel airy better then?"
Zeb moved forward on his cask. "That's you, Hank Marshall!" he exclaimed eagerly. "I'm with ye! He spit in my face two days ago, an' I want his ha'r. Good fer you, ol' beaver!"
For the next hour the argument waxed hot, one against three, and Armstrong had to come in and caution them twice. It was Jim Ogden who finally changed sides and settled the matter in Tom's favor.
"Hyar! We're nigh fightin' over a dog that ain't worth a cuss!" he exclaimed. "Mebby Tom will be comin' back ter Bent's afore winter sets in. Then we kin go ter Green River by th' way o' this town, stoppin' hyar a day ter git Salezar's ears. Won't do Tom no good if us boys git th' skunk. If ye don't close yer traps, cussed if I won't go out an' git him now, an' then hell shore will pop afore th' caravan gits away. Ain't ye got no sense, ye bloodthirsty Injuns?"
THE KIDNAPPING
Patience and her Mexican escort rode out of the town along the trail to Taos Valley, the road leading up the mountain and past her favorite retreat. She could not resist the cool of the morning hours and the temptation to pay one more visit to the little niche in the mountain side. The few farewell calls that she had to make could wait until the afternoon. They were duties rather than pleasures and the shorter she could make them the better she would like it. She passed the mud houses of the soldiers and soon left the city behind. At intervals on the wretched road she met and smiled at the friendly muleteers and gave small coins to the toddling Mexican and Indian children before the wretched hovels scattered along the way. Well before noon she reached the little nook and unpacked the lunch she had brought along. Sharing it with her humble escort, who stubbornly insisted on taking his portion to one side and eating by himself, she spread her own lunch under her favorite tree and leisurely enjoyed it as she watched the mules passing below her along the trail. This last view of the distant town and the mountain trail enchanted her and time slipped by with furtive speed. Far down on the road, if it could be called such, bumped and slida hugecarretacovered with a soiled canvas cover, its driver laboring with his four-mule team. The four had all they could do to draw the massive cart along the rough trail and she smiled as she wondered how many mules it would take to pull the heavy vehicle if it were well loaded. She tried to picture it with the toiling caravan, and laughed aloud at the absurdity.
While she idly watched thecarretaand the littleatejopassing it in the direction of the city, a flash far down the trail caught her eye and she made out a group of mounted soldiers trotting after an officer, whose scabbard dully flashed as it jerked and bobbed about. Thecarretawas more than half way up the slope, seeming every moment to be threatened with destruction by the shaking it was receiving, when the soldiers overtook and passed it. When the squad reached the short section of the trail immediately below her it met anatejoof a dozen heavily-laden mules and the arrogant officer waved his sword and ordered them off the trail. Mules are deliberate and take their own good time, and they also have a natural reluctance to forsake a known and comparatively easy trail to climb over rocks under the towering packs. Their owners tried to lead them aside, although there was plenty of room for the troops to pass, but the little beasts were stubborn and stuck to the trail.
Impatiently waiting for perhaps a full minute that his conceit might be pampered, the officer drew his sword again and peremptorily ordered the trail cleared for his passing. The muleteers did their best, but it was not good enough for the puffed-up captain,and he spurred his horse against a faggot-burdened animal. The load swayed and then toppled, forcing the little burro to its knees and then over on its side, the tight girth gripping it as in a vise. The owner of the animal stepped quickly forward, a black scowl on his face. At his first word of protest the officer struck him on the head with the flat of the blade and broke into a torrent of curses and threats. The muleteer staggered back against a huge bowlder and bowed his head, his arms hanging limply at his sides. The officer considered a moment, laughed contemptuously and rode on, his rag-tag, wooden-faced squad following him closely.
As the soldiers passed from his sight around a bend in the trail the muleteer leaned forward, hand on the knife in his belt, and stared malevolently at the rocks on the bend; and then hastened to help his two companions unpack the load of faggots and let the mule arise. The little animal did not get up. Both its front legs were broken by the rocky crevice into which they had been forced. The unfortunate Pueblo Indian knelt swiftly at the side of the little beast and passed his hands along the slender legs. He shook his head sorrowfully and stroked the burro's flank. Suddenly leaping to his feet, knife in hand, he took two quick steps along the trail, but yielded to his clinging and frightened friends and dejectedly walked back to the suffering animal. For a moment he stood above it and then, changing his grip on the knife, leaned quickly over.
Patience had seen the whole tragedy and her eyes were brimming with tears. As the muleteer bentforward she turned away, sobbing. The throaty muttering of her guide brought him back to her mind and she called him to her.
"Sanchez!" she exclaimed, taking a purse from her bosom. "Take this money to him. It will buy him another burro."
The Mexican's teeth flashed like pearls and he nodded eagerly. In a moment he was clambering down the rocky mountain side and reached the trail as the noisycarretalumbered past the waitingatejo. He need not have hastened, for each mule had seized upon the stop as a valuable moment for resting and was lying down under its load. Here was work for the angry muleteers, for every animal must be unloaded, kicked to its feet and loaded anew.
Sanchez slid down the last rocky wall, flung up his arms and showed the two gold pieces, making a flamboyant speech as he alternately faced the wondering muleteer and turned to bow to the slender figure outlined against the somber greens of the mountain nook. Handing over the money, he slapped the Indian's shoulder, whirled swiftly and clambered back the way he had come.
The Indian seemed dazed at his unexpected good fortune, staring at the money in his hand. He glanced up toward the mountain niche, raised a hand to his forelock, and then pushed swiftly back from his eager, curious, crowding friends. They talked together at top speed and for the moment forgot all about the mules they had so laboriously re-packed; and when they looked behind them they found they had their work to do over again. Again the fortunatemuleteer looked up, his hand slowly rising to repeat his thanks; and became a statue in bronze. He saw the ragged troops seize his benefactress and leap for the guide. Sanchez was no coward and he knew what loyalty meant and demanded. He fought like a wild beast until the crash of a pistol in the hands of the officer sent him staggering on bending legs, back, back, back. Reaching the edge of the niche he toppled backward, his quivering arms behind him to break his fall; and plunged and rolled down the rocky slope until stopped by a stunted tree, where he hung like a bag of meal.
Patience's strength, multiplied by terror, availed her nothing and soon, bound, gagged and wrapped up in blankets, she was carried to the trail and placed in thecarretawhich, its canvas cover again tightly drawn, quickly began its jolting way down the trail. As it and its escort passed theatejo, now being re-packed, the officer scowled about him for a sight of the impudent muleteer, but could not see him.
Salezar stopped his horse: "Where is that Pueblo dog?" he demanded.
"He is so frightened he is running all the way home," answered a muleteer. "He has left us to do his work for him! Are we slaves that we must serve him? Wait till we see him, Señor Capitan! Just you wait!" He looked at his companion, who nodded sourly. "Always he is like that, Señor Capitan."
Salezar questioned them closely about what they had seen, and found that they had been so busy with the accursed mules that they had had no time for anything else.
"See that you speak the truth!" he threatened. "There is a gringo woman missing from Santa Fe and we are seeking her. Her gringo friends are enemies of the Governor, and those who help them also are his enemies. Then you have not seen this woman?"
"The more gringos that are missing the louder we will sing. We have not seen her, Señor Capitan. We will take care that we do not see her."
"Did you hear any shooting, then?"
"If I did it would be that frightened Pablo, shooting at his shadow. He is like that, Pablo is."
"Listen well!" warned Salezar, his beady eyes aglint. "There are two kinds of men who do not speak; the wise ones, and the ones who have no tongues!" He made a significant gesture in front of his mouth, glared down at the two muleteers and, wheeling, dashed down the trail to overtake thecarreta, where he gloated aloud that his prisoner might hear, and know where she was going, and why.
The two Pueblos listened until the hoofbeats sounded well down the trail and then scrambled up the mountain side like goats, reaching the little nook as Pablo dragged the seriously wounded Mexican over the edge. They worked over him quickly, silently, listening to his broken, infrequent mutterings and after bandaging him as best they could they put him on a blanket and carried him to the trail and along it until they reached an Indian hovel, where they left him in care of a squaw. Returning to theatejothey had to repack every mule, but they worked feverishly and the work was soon done and the little train plodded on down the trail. At the foot of the mountain Pablo said something to his companions, left the trail and soon was lost to their sight.
Meanwhile thecarreta, after a journey which was a torture, mentally and physically, to its helpless occupant, reached the town and rumbled up to Salezar's house, scraped through the narrow roadway between the house and the building next door and stopped in the windowless, high-walled courtyard. Three soldiers quickly carried a blanket-swathed burden into the house while the others loafed around the entrance to the driveway to guard against spying eyes. In a few moments the captain came out, briskly rubbing his hands, gave a curt order regarding alertness and rode away in the direction of thepalacio, already a colonel in his stimulated imagination. This had been a great day in the fortunes of Captain Salezar and he was eager for his reward.
The sentry at the door of thepalaciosaluted, told him that he was waited for and urgently wanted, and then stood at attention. Salezar stroked his chin, chuckled, and swaggered through the portal. Ten minutes later he emerged, walking on air and impatient for the coming of darkness, when his task soon would be finished and his promotion assured.
And while the captain paced the floor of his quarters at the barracks and dreamed dreams, an honest, courageous, and loyal Mexican was fighting against death in a little hovel on the mountain side; and a Pueblo Indian, stimulated by a queer and jumbled mixture of rage, gratitude, revenge, and pity, was making his slow way, with infinite caution, throughthe cover north of town. Sanchez in his babbling had mentioned the caravan, a gringo name, and the urgent need for a warning to be carried. Salezar's name the Pueblo already knew far too well, and hated as he hated nothing else on earth. The mud-walledpueblosof the Valley of Taos were regarded by Salezar as rabbit-warrens full of women, provided by Providence that his hunting might be good.
"LOS TEJANOS!"
The encampment of the returning caravan was in a little pasture well outside the town and it was the scene of bustling activity. Its personnel was different from either of the two trains from the Missouri frontier, for it was made up of traders and travelers from both of the earlier, west-bound caravans. Some of the first and second wagon trains had gone on to El Paso and Chihuahua, a handful of venturesome travelers were to try for the Pacific coast, and others of the first two trains had elected to remain in the New Mexican capital. While in the two west-bound caravans there had been many Mexicans, their number now was negligible. But this returning train was larger than either of the other two, carried much less freight, a large amount of specie, and would drive a large herd of mules across the prairies for sale in the Missouri settlements, which would fan the fires of Indian avarice all along the trail.
Uncle Joe and his brother had been busy all day doing their own work, catching up odds and ends of their Santa Fe connections, and helping friends get ready for the long trip, and they had not given much thought to Patience, whom they believed to be saying her farewells to friends she had made in the city. As the afternoon passed and she and her escort had notappeared, Uncle Joe became a little uneasy; and as the shadows began to reach farther and farther from the wagons he mounted his horse and rode back to Santa Fe to find and join her. It was nearly dark when he galloped back to the encampment and sought his brother, hoping that Patience had made her way to the wagons while he had sought for her in town. He knew that she had not called on any of her friends and that she must have stolen a last ride through the environs of the town. The two men were frankly frightened and hurriedly made the rounds of the wagons and then started for the city. It was dark by then and as they rode by the last camp-fire of the encampment, four villainous Indians loomed up in the light of the little blaze and Uncle Joe recognized them instantly. He drew up quickly.
"Have you seen Patience?" he cried, an agony of fear in his voice. "We can't find her anywhere!"
The Indians motioned for him to go on and they followed him and his brother. When a few score paces from the fire they stopped and consulted, hungrily fingering the locks of their heavy rifles. While they were sketching a plan a Pueblo Indian, following the trail to the camp like a speeding shadow, came up to them and blurted out his fragmentary tale in a mixture of Spanish and Indian.
"Salezar stole white woman on mountain. Put her incarretaand went back to Santa Fe. Tell these people, that her friends will know. Salezar, the son of a pig, stole her on the mountain." He burst into a torrent of words unintelligible and open and shut his hands as he raved.
Finally in reply to their hot, close questioning he told all he knew, his answers interspersed with stark curses for Salezar and pity and anxiety for the angel señorita. His words bore the undeniable stamp of sincerity, fitted in with what the anxious group feared, and he was triply bound by the gold pieces crowded into his hands. After another conference, not pointless now, a plan was hurriedly agreed upon and the several parts well studied. The Pueblo was given a commission and loaned a horse, and after repeating what he was to do, shot away into the darkness. Uncle Joe and his brother grudgingly accepted their parts, after Tom had shown them they could help in no other way, and turned back into the encampment, where their hot and eager efforts met with prompt help from their closest friends. Alonzo Webb and Enoch Birdsall, mounted, led four horses out of the west side of the camp and melted into the darkness; several hundred yards from the wagons they turned the led horses over to four maddened Indians and followed them through the night, to enter Santa Fe from the south. Not far behind them a cavalcade rode along the same route, grim and silent. At the little corral where theatejohad put up the Indians got the horses which Turley had loaned them, shook hands with the two traders and listened as the caravan's horses were led off toward the camp.
Armstrong answered the knocks on his door and admitted the Delaware, listened in amazement to the brief, tense statement of fact, strongly endorsed Tom's plans, and eagerly accepted his own part. His caller slipped out, the door closed, and the sounds of walkinghorses faded out down the street. A few moments later, Armstrong, rifle in hand, slipped out of the house and ran southward.
Captain Salezar, sitting at ease in his adobe house, poured himself another drink ofaguardienteand rolled another corn-husk cigarette. Lighting it from the candle he fell to pacing to and fro across the small room. As the raw, potent liquor stimulated his imagination he began to bow to imaginary persons, give orders to officers, and to introduce himself as Colonel Salezar. From the barracks across the corner of the square an occasional burst of laughter rang out, but these were becoming more infrequent and less loud. He heard the grounding gun-butt of the sentry outside his door as the soldier paused before wheeling to retrace his steps over the beat.
The sentry paced along the narrow driveway and stopped at the outer corner of the house to cast an envious glance across at the barracks where he knew that his friends were engaged in a furtive game ofmonte, which had started before he had gone on duty not a quarter of an hour before. He turned slowly to pace back again and then suddenly threw up his arms as his world became black. His falling firelock was caught as it left his hands, and soon lay at the side of its gagged and trussed owner in the blackness along the base of a driveway wall. Two figures slipped toward the courtyard to the rear of the house and one of them, taking the rifle of his companion, stopped at the corner of the wall at the driveway. The other slipped to the door, gently tried the latch and opened it, one hand hidden beneath the folds of adirty blanket. The door swung silently open and shut and the intruder cast a swift glance around the room.
Captain Salezar grinned into the cracked mirror hanging on the wall, stiffened to attention, and saluted the image in the glass.
"Colonel Salezar's orders, sir," he declaimed and then, staring with unbelieving eyes at the apparition pushing out onto the mirror, crossed himself, whirled and drew his sword almost in one motion.
The Delaware cringed and pulled at a lock of hair straggling down past his eyes and held out a folded paper, swiftly placing a finger on his lips.
"Por le Capitan despues le Gobernador," he whispered. "Pronto!"
The captain's anger and suspicion at so unceremonious an entry slowly faded, but he did not lower the sword. The Delaware slid forward, abject and fearful, his eyes riveted on the clumsy blade, the paper held out at arm's length. "Por le Capitan," he muttered. "Pronto!"
"You son of swine!" growled Salezar. "You scum! Is this the way you enter an officer's house? How did you pass the sentry? A score of lashes on both your backs will teach you manners and him his duty. Give me that message and stand aside till I call the guard!"
"Perdón, Capitan! Perdón, perdón!" begged the Delaware. "Le Gobernador—" his hands streaked out, one gripping the sword wrist of the captain, the other fastening inexorably on the greasy, swarthy throat well up under the chin. As the grips clamped down the Delaware's knee rose and smashed into theMexican's stomach. The sword clattered against a wall and the two men fell and rolled and thrashed across the floor.
"Whereisshe?" grated the Indian as he writhed and rolled, now underneath and now uppermost. "Whereisshe, you murdering dog?"
They smashed against the flimsy table and overturned it, candle, liquor and all. The candle flickered out and the struggle went on in the darkness.
"Whereisshe, Salezar? Yore in th' hands of aTexan, you taker of ears! Whereisshe?"
Salezar was no weakling and although he had no more real courage than a rat, like a rat he was cornered and fighting for his life; but Captain Salezar had lived well and lazily, as his pampered body was now showing evidence. Try as he might he could not escape those steel-like fingers for more than a moment. With desperate strength he broke their hold time and again as he writhed and bridged and rolled, clawed and bit; but they clamped back again as often. His shouts for help were choked gasps and the strength he had put forth in the beginning of the struggle was waning.
The table was now a wreck and they rolled in and over the débris. Salezar made use of his great spurs at every chance and his opponent's clothing was ripped and torn to shreds wet with blood. His fingers searched for his enemy's eyes and missed them, but left their marks on the painted face. They rolled against one wall and then back to the other; they slammed again at the door and back into the wreckage of the table.
"Whereisshe?" panted the Delaware. "Tell me, Salezar,where is she?"
The captain wriggled desperately and almost gained the top, and thought he sensed a weakened opposition. "Where she will remain!" he choked. "Mistress of thepalacio—until he tires—of her. You—cursedTejanodog!" He drove a spur at his enemy's side, missed, and it became entangled in the rags.
The Delaware, blind with fury, smashed his knee into the soft abdomen and snarled at the answering gasp of pain. "Remember th' prisoners? Near Valencia—Ernest died in the—night. You cut off his ears—and threw his body in a—ditch!" He got the throat hold again in spite of nails and teeth, blows and spurs. "McAllister was shot because he—could not walk. You stole his clothes—cut off his ears and left—his body at th' side of th'—road for the wolves!" He felt the spurs graze his leg and he threw it across the body of the Mexican. "Golpin was shot—other side of Dead Man's Lake. You took—hisearstoo!" He hauled and tugged and managed to roll his enemy onto his other leg. "On th' Dead Man's Journey—Griffin's brains were knocked out with a—gun butt.Hisears were cut off,too!" Hooking his feet together he clamped his powerful thighs in a viselike grip on his enemy. "Gates died in a wagon near—El Paso, of starvation, sickness—an' fright. You gothis—ears!"
"As—I'll get—yours!" hoarsely moaned Salezar, again missing with the spurs. "The señorita will be happy—in Armijo's arms. After that—the soldiers—can have her!"
The Delaware loosened his leg grip, jerked them up toward the captain's stomach as he hauled his victim down toward them, and clamped them tight again over the soft stomach.
"Yore lies stick—in yore throat—Salezar!" he panted. "An' those murders cry—to heaven; but you'll only—hear th' echoes ringin' through hell—for all eternity.Youcalled th' roll of th' livin'—on that damnable march;I'm—callin' th' roll of th'dead! Yore name comes last! There's many a Texan would give his—chance of heaven to change places—with me,now!" He raised his head in the darkness. "Oh, Ernest, old pardner; I'm payin' yore debt,in full!"
The spurs stabbed in vain, for the Delaware was now well above their flaying range; the nails scoring his face were growing feeble. He shifted the leg hold again and managed to imprison one of Salezar's arms in their grip. Lifting himself from the hips, he released the throat hold and grabbed the Mexican's other arm, thrust it under him and fell back on it as his two hands, free now to work their worst, leaped back under the swarthy chin. The relentless thumbs pressed up and in.
The Blackfoot on guard at the end of the driveway thought he heard the door open and close, but there was no doubt about the labored breathing which wheezed along the dark wall. Stumbling steps faltered and dragged and then the Delaware bumped into him and held to him for a moment.
"Git th' hosses, Hank!" came a mumbled command.
"Thar with Jim an' Zeb," whispered the hunter in surprise. "How'd ye get so wet? Is that blood?"
"Spurred me—I'll be all right—soon's I git breath. He—fought like a—fiend."
"Git his ears?" eagerly demanded the Blackfoot.
"Thar's been ears enough took—already. Come on;she'sin th'palacio—withArmijo!"
"Jest what we figgered,damn him!" growled the Blackfoot, leading the way.
In the stable at the rear of the courtyard a decrepit dog, white with age, had barked feebly when its breath permitted, while the fight had raged in the house. The Blackfoot had considered stopping the wheezy warnings, but they did not have power enough to lure him from his watch. He had accepted the lesser of the two evils and remained on guard. As the two Indians crept from the courtyard the aged animal burst into a paroxysm of barking, which exhausted it. To those who knew the captain's dog, its barking long since had lost all meaning, for, as the soldiers said, it barked over nothing. They did not know that the animal dreamed day and night of the days of its youth and strength and now, in its dotage, in imagination was living over again stirring incidents of hunts and fights long past. Gradually it recovered its strength from sounding its barked warnings in vain, and pantingly sniffed the air. Its actions became frantic and the decrepit old dog struggled to its feet, swaying on its feeble legs, its grizzled muzzle pointing toward its master's house. The composite body odor it had known for so many years had changed, and ceased abruptly. Whining and whimpering, thedog searched the air currents, but in vain; the scent came no more. Then, sinking back on its haunches, it raised its gray nose to the sky and poured out its grief in one long, quavering howl of surprising volume.
The sleeping square sprang to life, superstitious terror dominated the barracks. Lights gleamed suddenly and the barracks door opened slowly, grudgingly as frightened soldiers hurriedly crossed themselves. Don Jesu and Robideau pushed hesitatingly to the portal and peered fearsomely into the night. They suddenly cried out, drew their ancient pistols, and fired at two vague figures slinking hurriedly along the side of the house opposite. From the darkness there came quick replies. A coruscating poniard of spiteful flame stabbed into the night. Don Jesu whirled on buckling legs and pitched sidewise to the street. A second stab of sparky flame split the darkness and Robideau reeled back into the arms of his panicky soldiers. As the heavy reports rolled through the town they seemed to be a signal, for on the southern outskirts of Santa Fe gun after gun crashed in a rippling, spasmodic volley. A few stragglers in the all but deserted streets raised a dreaded cry and fled to the nearest shelter. The cry was taken up and sent rioting through the city; doors were doubly barred and the soldiers in the barracks, safer behind the thick mud walls than they would be out in the dark open against such an enemy, slammed shut the ponderous door and frantically built barricades of everything movable.
"Los Tejanos!" rolled the panicky cries. "Los Tejanos! Los Tejanos!"
The wailing warning of the coming of a plague could not have held more terror. Gone were the vaunted boastings and the sneers; gone was the swaggering bravado of the dashingcaballeros, who had said what they would do to any Texan force that dared to brave the wrath of the defenders of San Francisco de la Santa Fe. Gone was all faith, never too sincere, in ancientescopetaand rusty blunderbuss, now that the occasion was close at hand to measure them against the devil weapons of hardy Texan fighting men, of the breed that had stood off, bloody day after bloody day, four thousand Mexican regulars before a little adobe church, now glorified for all the ages yet to come. To panicky minds came magic words of evil portent; the Alamo and San Jacinto. To evil consciences, bowed with guilt, came burning memories of that sick and starved Texan band that had walked through winter days and shivered through winter nights from Santa Fe to the capital, two thousand miles of suffering, and every step a torture. Texan ears had swung from a piece of rusty wire to feed the cruel conceit of a swarthy tyrant.
"Los Tejanos! Los Tejanos! Los Tejanos!"
At thepalacioa human brute recoiled before a barred door between him and a desperate captive, his honeyed cajolings turning to acid on his lying tongue. No longer did he hear the measured tread of the palace guards, who secretly exulted as they fled and left him defenseless.
"Los Tejanos! Los Tejanos! Los Tejanos!"
He dashed through a door to grab his weapons and flee, and in through the open, undefended portal fromthe square leaped a blood-covered Delaware, an epic of rags and rage, a man so maddened that all thought of weapons save Nature's, had gone from his burning brain. Behind him leaped a Blackfoot, dynamic and deadly as a panther, a Colt pistol in one eager, upraised hand, in the other the cold length of a keen skinning knife. Behind them from a wagon deserted in the square came the sharp crashes of Hawken and Colt, and a shouted battlecry: "Remember th' Alamo! Remember th' Alamo! Texans to th' fore!"
As the Delaware dashed past an open door he caught a flurry of movement, the flare of a pistol and his laughter pealed out in one mad shout as he stopped like a cat and leaped in through the opening. Another flash, another roar, and a burning welt across a shoulder spurred the bloody Nemesis to a greater speed. The wavering sword he knocked aside and near two hundred pounds of fighting, mountain sinew hurled itself behind a driving fist. The hurtling bulk of Armijo crashed against a wall and dropped like a bag of grain as the plunging Delaware whirled to pounce upon it. As he turned, a scream rang out somewhere behind him, through the door he had just entered, a scream vibrant with desperate hope, and he bellowed a triumphant answer. Here was his mission; Armijo was a side issue. The governor, helpless before him, was forgotten and the Delaware whirled through the door bellowing one name over and over again. "Patience! Patience!Patience!"
"Los Tejanos! Los Tejanos!" came from the public square.
"Los Tejanos! Los Tejanos!" quavered the despairing echo throughout the quaking town, while from the south there came the steady crash of alien rifles, firing harmlessly into the air.
Before him a Blackfoot methodically battered at a door, taking a few quick steps backward and a plunging dive forward. The Delaware shouted again and added the power of his driving weight. There came a splintering crash and the door went in. The Blackfoot whirled and darted to the great portal leading to the square, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a cougar expecting danger at every point. The Delaware scrambled to his feet and gathered a whitefaced woman in his arms, crushing her to his bloody chest. He felt her go suddenly limp and, throwing her across a bare and bleeding shoulder, he drew a Colt repeating pistol and sprang after his Indian ally, not feeling the weight of his precious burden.
Lurid, stabbing rapiers of fire still sprang from the wagon barricade, making death certain to any man who opened the barracks' door. Between their heavy roars the woodwork of the wagon smacked sharply in time to bursts of fire from the barracks' few windows. The Delaware darted from thepalaciodoor and held close to the wall, hidden by the portico and the darkness. As he reached the end of the column-supported roof the Blackfoot bulked out of the night on his horse, and leading four others. The lost-soul call of a loon sounded and changed the deadly wagon into a vehicle of peace and quiet as its Arapahoe defenders slipped away from it. The sudden creaking of saddle leather was followed by the rolling thunder of flying hoofs as the first three horses left the square.A moment's pause and then two more horses galloped through the darkness after the others, the Arapahoe rear guard sitting almost sidewise in their saddles, their long, hot rifles pointing backward to send hotter greetings to whoever might follow.
They raced like gambling fools through the dark night, the Blackfoot leading the way with the instinct of a homing bird. Mile after mile strung out behind them, pastures, gullies, knolls rolling past. While they climbed and dipped and circled they gradually sensed a steady rising of the ground. Suddenly the Blackfoot shouted for them to halt, and the laboring horses welcomed the moment's breathing space. The guide threw himself on the ground and pressed his ear against it. In a moment he was back in the saddle and gave the word to go on again. He had heard no sounds of pursuit and he chuckled as he leaned over close to the Delaware who rode at his flank.
"Nothin' stirrin' behind us, fur's I could make out," he said. "They can only track us by sound in th' dark, at any speed, an' I'm gamblin' they wait fer daylight. Thar scared ter stick thar noses out o' doorsthisnight. How's yore gal?"
Tom's rumbling reply could mean anything and they kept on through the night without further words. The trail had been growing steadily rougher and steeper and the horses were permitted to fall into a swinging lope. Another hour passed and then Hank signalled for a stop. From his lips whistled the crowded, hurried, repeated call of a whip-poor-will. Three times the insistent demand rang out, clear and piercing. At the count of ten an echoing whistlesounded and a light flickered on the trail ahead.