Lone Pine: The Story of a Lost Mine

"He could have eaten with me for all that," said Stephens, "but we hadn't decided about who was to go to Santa Fé with me. Will you?"

"Well, I have no horse here, Don Estevan," said the old man. "After breakfast we will see about it."

"Very well," said Stephens in a grumbling tone. "I suppose we must wait their pleasure. It isn't much running off to breakfast there'd be if it was anything they wanted to do."

However, there was nothing to do but wait, and Stephens had plenty of time to do his own cooking in the interval. It was nearly an hour before the chiefs were reassembled – having, indeed, to be sent for by Stephens individually; but by persistence he got them together at last and proceeded to business.

"Now, friends," he began, "who is going with me to Santa Fé? Don't all speak at once," he added in English for his own benefit, smiling grimly as he saw the blank look on their faces as he renewed his unwelcome proposal.

"Will you go, Benito?" he said, determined to press them one by one.

The Indian instead of replying conversed rapidly with the others. They had hoped that the transfer of Josefa to Stephens might have modified the American's absurd passion for what he considered to be justice.

"Look here, Don Estevan," began Benito, "it is better to wait. To-morrow, when Tito gets back, then – "

"Oh, nonsense!" broke in Stephens impatiently, "Tito mayn't be back for a week, and it makes no odds about him anyhow."

"But," interrupted Ramon, another of the chiefs, "we have got no horses here. You have your own mare, and the mule for Salvador, but we have none. When Tito comes back with your other mule – "

"Oh, Tito be bothered!" said the American. "I tell you we don't want him."

Suddenly there was a shout outside. A Mexican rider came tearing up the village, and reined his reeking horse on to his haunches at Stephens's door. Flakes of bloody foam flew from the bit, and the horseman's rowels were red. He sprang into the room, covered with sweat and dust from the road.

"The Señorita Sanchez!" he exclaimed breathlessly, "the Señorita Sanchez has been carried off by the Navajos in the night." All present leapt to their feet.

"What!" cried Stephens, "Manuelita?" He stood aghast.

"Yes," repeated the Mexican; "the Señorita Manuelita Sanchez is in the hands of those villains."

"Of that Mahletonkwa!" the American exclaimed, seizing his rifle; "but how? and where are they?"

"Quien sabe?" said the Mexican, "esperate, Don Estevan; wait a moment, señor, till I tell you," for Stephens had caught up his saddle and was making for the door. "All we know is that she is gone; the tracks of the Navajos are all round the house and on the roof, and it is guessed that they entered so, in the night, while everybody was asleep, and carried her off."

"What idiots!" exclaimed Stephens. "Why didn't they keep a watch?"

"Who could have dreamed of such an attempt?" replied the Mexican. "The doors were fastened safe. No one thought of their getting over the roof. But it is proved that they must have done so; their moccasin tracks are there on the roof to show it. And they have fled with her to the westward; the tracks of their horses go all up the valley of the Agua Negra. They have got a long start. But Don Nepomuceno and Don Andrés have raised a party; they have got all the men they could in San Remo and gone on their trail: they are hoping to overtake them."

"Can I catch up with them?" asked Stephens hoarsely. "By George! but I wish I had stayed down there last night; but how could I or anyone have imagined such a thing as this? Poor, poor girl!"

He forgot the cacique, his prisoner for having shot down Felipe; he forgot Josefa, lying there next door dependent on his protection; for the moment all these things vanished from his mind before this dreadful catastrophe.

"Yes," answered the Mexican, "you will be able to catch them – they have but an hour's start of you; you will, that is, if you can follow their trail, for you have a good mare. But what they want you to do – what I came here to say, what Don Nepomuceno begged me to urge on you – is to bring with you some of these Indians of the pueblo to assist him in following the trail of the Navajos. Our friends here of Santiago did good service as trailers for Coronel Christophero Carson during the war against the Navajos; Don Nepomuceno is sure they will follow you, too, against the Navajos if you will ask them."

Stephens paused and pondered a moment. His first impulse had been to mount at once and gallop straight in pursuit. But there was wisdom in Don Nepomuceno's counsel; most assuredly the Indians would be invaluable if they came, and clearly there was nothing else he could do that would be half so useful as to bring them. And with reflection came back the image of the helpless Josefa, and he instantly realised that if he could take the cacique along with him her position would become ever so much safer; for he could not be blind to the fact that as soon as he was gone she might yet be in danger supposing that the cacique remained behind. Yes, in every way it would be better to enlist the cacique for the pursuit; he decided to try and do so on the spot.

"This is a shocking thing that the Navajos have done," he said to the Indians around him, "and they will have to smart for it. You have all heard the suggestion made by this gentleman," he looked at the Mexican as he spoke, "and I entirely agree with it. Cacique, will you and a party of your warriors come with me on the war-trail against these scoundrels? You will do a public service if you can succeed in recovering the señorita from them; and in that case, whatever you may have done to Felipe, the rescue of the captive would count for much in your favour. In short, Cacique, if you will render good service in recovering her, I will appeal to the governor to pardon you. There is my offer."

The Indians talked it over rapidly among themselves. All joined in urging Salvador to seize the opportunity given him of escaping from the consequences of his rash act. Nor did he want much urging; he had fought the Navajos before, and was personally no ways loath to take the field against them again, and pride made him ardently desire to shine before his people in the character of a leader. In five minutes the matter was settled among them and his companions selected.

"Yes, Don Estevan," said he, "your offer is accepted. I will go with you on the trail of these Navajos, and I will take with me Miguel, who is our best tracker, and Alejandro, who is very good also. And it is agreed that you stand my friend in the matter of Felipe."

"Agreed," cried Stephens; "and now let us be off. You have weapons and ammunition."

"My horse is tired," said the cacique; "and how about horses for the young men?"

"My mule can carry one," said Stephens. "Could we have your horse, señor," he asked, turning to the Mexican, "and let you ride Mr. Backus's horse back to San Remo? – for I presume he isn't fit for another journey, either."

"Alas," said the Mexican politely, "I fear I cannot accommodate you in this. I have to ride now post-haste to Rio Grande and warn Don Nepomuceno's friends there of the trouble that has befallen him. They will doubtless send a party from there also on the trail. Were it not for that I would ride with you myself with pleasure."

"Look, now," interrupted the cacique, "at the plan which I propose. Let us go to the horse herd beyond the Cerro de las Viboras. My horse is tired indeed, but he can take me there; your mule is strong, Sooshiuamo," – he took the first opportunity to call Stephens by his Indian name as a sign of renewed amity, – "let him carry our two young men also as far as the herd; when we get to the herd we will choose fresh horses for each of us, and we will take one of the herders along with us, young Ignacio, who is very clever at trailing, and knows the country; and besides, it is possible that the herders may have seen something of Mahletonkwa's band, and can give information. In any case we will start afresh from the horse herd and cut the trail of Mahletonkwa, and perhaps of Don Nepomuceno's party a good way off from here." Stephens looked up doubtfully at this suggestion. "Oh, never fear," continued the cacique boastingly, "we can leave a trail and find it again; I will show you what our men are like as trailers. There is no one equal to the Santiago men on a trail."

The cacique was known for a man of skill and resource in all these things of practical importance. He had indeed aroused the indignation of the prospector by his cruelty to Felipe and to his daughter, but in that after all he did but act according to his nature; Indians were cruel anyhow. The savage, even in the best of them, was close to the surface. When it came to going on the war-path the value of the peculiar powers of the savage was manifest, and Stephens felt satisfied with his own action in turning them to a good purpose. The cacique's proposal was unquestionably sound, and he accepted it without hesitation.

"Tell me," he said, "before you go," turning to the Mexican who had brought the news, and was standing there, quirt in hand, ready to start as soon as their plans were decided upon, "what more is there known about this matter?"

"Pues, nada, señor," answered the young man – "nothing – absolutely nothing. We know neither at what hour of the night they took her away, nor with what object they have done it, but it is doubtless to extort the money from her father, the money that they have been demanding for the Navajo killed by Don Andrés."

"Does the postmaster know anything about it?" asked Stephens; "I thought he acted very ill yesterday with regard to the Indians. If he's had any hand in it, by George! – " he broke off with a sudden fury of suspicion.

"Nothing is known either about him, señor," replied the Mexican; "Mr. Backus declares that he had no idea of their doing such a thing. They were at his store during the afternoon, but they went off again to a distance to camp before sunset. Doubtless they would conceal their scheme from him as from everybody else. And now, señor, with your permission I am for the road. I have near twenty leagues to ride to-day. I report, then, to all my friends that you, with the Indian trailers of Santiago, are going to take the trail. Believe me, we relied on you confidently to assist." He grasped Stephens hand warmly, sprang to his saddle, and was presently galloping for the Rio Grande.

The Indians ran to their houses for their guns and for the provision of dried meat and parched maize they would require for the journey, while Stephens brought his mare to the door and saddled her, tying a blanket for himself on behind, and filling his saddle-bags with as much victuals as he could stuff into them. Before starting he ran into Reyna's house to take one look at Josefa. She was lying on a rug spread on the ground. In a few words he told her of his summons to pursue Mahletonkwa, and his acceptance of the cacique's services for the purpose. "But don't you be afraid," he continued; "you're all right now. He shall never lay his hand on you again. Reyna will look after you, and nurse you, and feed you. You just stick by her as if she was your mother. And if anyone tries to bother you while I'm gone, you just tell them to go to blazes. You tell them that you belong to me now, and that if they go to try any nonsense on with you I'll know the reason why. They'll have me to reckon with. See? That's my talk, and don't you forget it." He gave her limp hand a reassuring pressure as she lay there, and turned away. Three minutes later he was riding north-westward from the pueblo in the company of Salvador, Miguel, and Alejandro.

CHAPTER XVII

MADAM WHAILAHAY

No sooner had they reached the outskirts of the village than they saw a man on foot, whose dress proclaimed him to be a white man, approaching from the San Remo direction, not by the road, but by a path that led through the plough-lands. They turned aside to meet him, and as he drew nearer it proved to be no other that Mr. Backus himself.

"You'd better go ahead," said Stephens to his three Indian companions as he reined up his mare in order to speak to him. "I'll catch you up in a few minutes, but I just want to hear if he knows anything"; and they rode forward accordingly.

"This is a devil of a business," he began abruptly, addressing the storekeeper, "and I should like to hear what you've got to say about it." His lips closed tightly, and there was a dangerous light shining in his eyes.

"Ah, about the carrying off of the Sanchez girl," said Backus, with a nervous affectation of taking it all rather lightly; "well, yes, it is a devil of a business, as you say; it's the impidentest thing as ever I heard of. Who ever saw the like of it?"

"It's a serious matter, I'd have you to know," returned the prospector with rapidly rising anger; "it's a dreadful thing for a woman to be carried off by these infernal scoundrels, and for you of all men to speak lightly of it is nothing less than an outrage. You mark my words." He was exceedingly indignant with this man for his previous conduct, and that he should assume a flippant tone now was unbearable.

"Wal', I'm sorry, real sorry about it, of course," said Backus; "and it's spoilt our little game we had on for getting that information out of them Navajos, for the present anyway."

"I'll trouble you not to talk about 'our' little game," retorted the other hotly. "I cautioned you against mixing yourself up with those scoundrelly Navajos, and don't you go to imply that I'm involved with you in any way; I could never look Don Nepomuceno in the face again if I shared your responsibility for encouraging the villains."

"Seems to me," sneered Backus, "that for a man as puts on so much style, and takes up such tonified notions as you, talking about 'never going outside your own colour' and the like, you make pretty considerable of a fuss about a Mexican ranchero and the trouble he's got himself into."

"I call him a whiter man than you, for one thing," exclaimed Stephens; "and for another, mark me, I hold you personally responsible for this outrage. It's a more serious matter for you than you seem to be aware of. You've made yourself liable by the way you behaved yesterday with those redskins, giving them that whiskey and letting them shoot all about your place."

"Why, you was shooting with 'em yourself for one thing," retorted the Texan with intentional insolence in his tone; "and, for another, you mark me, I didn't give 'em no whiskey." He was deliberately mocking Stephens; but the latter was in no mood to put up with it, and flinging his right leg over the mare's neck he jumped to the ground facing the quarter-blood Cherokee. He threw the mare's rein to Faro to hold; it was a trick he had taught him, and the dog stood there obediently with it in his jaws.

"I say you sold them the whiskey, then, if you didn't give it," he exclaimed, full of scorn for the mean evasion of the storekeeper. "They were excited with liquor when I came down there yesterday. I smelt it on them right there at your house. Don't you dare open your lips to deny it."

"It's no such a d – d thing!" cried the storekeeper with an ugly look, confident that no one had seen him hand over the two bottles to Mahletonkwa; the next instant he felt Stephens's clenched fist strike him full on his lying mouth, and he went staggering backward.

Recovering himself, with a look of fury he threw back his right hand to his hip for a pistol; it was in vain; he had come without one; he cast a meaning look at the revolver belted round the prospector's waist. "You're a d – d brave man, aren't you?" he sneered, "when you know you're heeled and I aint."

For answer Stephens instantly unbuckled his belt and hung the pistol over the horn of his saddle. "There, then," he said, and he advanced with his hands up towards the Texan, "if you want a fist fight you can get it right here."

"Yes," said the other, "and then have your infernal dog lay hold of me," and he backed away from Stephens. In height and weight Backus knew himself to be a match for the prospector, but there was a grim determination about the latter which cowed him. "I'll pay you out for this," he said with oaths, still retreating before Stephens, "but I'll choose my own time for it."

Right behind him ran the acequia, brimming full, as it had been ever since the blasting, but Backus, stepping backwards with his eyes fixed on his enemy, forgot that it was there; he put one foot over the edge of the bank, lost his balance, and fell with his whole length in the water. He emerged, streaming, on the opposite bank, and rescued his hat which had fallen off and was floating away. Then rising, he shook his fist and poured out more curses upon Stephens, who, thinking him sufficiently punished, did not choose to follow him farther. He waited a minute in silence till he saw Backus walk off towards the pueblo, then turning his back on his late adversary he remounted and quickly loped on to overtake his companions.

The prospector's brain was in a whirl as he rode through the fresh morning air and thought over the exciting events that had crowded one upon another since sunrise: the beating of Josefa, the arrest of the cacique, the news of the abduction of Manuelita, and lastly his collision with Backus. The first was already past history, and he had satisfied himself that though the Indian girl must have suffered a good deal she would undoubtedly recover and be all right again; what began to bother him a little now was the somewhat equivocal position in which he had placed himself with regard to her by taking her under his protection and establishing her next door to him in the pueblo under the care of Reyna.

"Well," he thought, "folks may say what they like about it. I didn't see any other way on the spur of the moment to make her safe; and now, looking back, I don't see that I could have done anything different. If folks want to talk they must just talk, and that's all there is in it. I guess I can stand the racket. If Tito brings Felipe back alive they shall get married right away, but if the cacique's bullet has laid the poor chap out, then I shall see what I can do to fix her up good somehow when I get back."

It was perhaps characteristic of him that now, when he was embarked on an expedition full of unknown perils, he said to himself easily "when I get back," without considering for a moment that ere that time came his bones might be bleaching white in some remote gulch, like those of the lone prospector whose tragic end had afforded so much amusement to Mahletonkwa and his band.

As for the arrest of the cacique, that, too, was past history, seeing that it was made for an offence that he had now settled to condone. He did not repent of his own action in the matter, either of the arrest or the condonation, but he could not help feeling a certain surprise as he thought of the ease with which the arrest had been effected. The angry chieftain had certainly proved astonishingly meek. As a fact, Stephens mixed so little with men that he was unconscious himself of the power there was in him to dominate others when possessed by strong indignation, and roused to defend the weak from wrong, as he had been that morning. Ordinarily quiet and self-contained in manner, speaking in a gentle voice, and showing an expression of mildness in the blue eyes that had gained him the name of Sooshiuamo, he was capable at times of being transformed by an energy that seemed something outside his common self, and by the contrast made him appear to be the very embodiment of superior and irresistible force.

It was perhaps as well for Backus that Stephens did not know that the storekeeper's greed of gain was at the bottom of the trouble; since he had deliberately whetted the Navajos' craving for whiskey and then doubled the price of it to them. It was their desire to compel Sanchez to pay them off instanter, and enable them to procure more liquor at any price, that had moved them to the extreme step of seizing his daughter.

But Stephens could not know this. All he knew was that she was gone, and that his one burning desire now was to rescue her from this most miserable fate that had overtaken her. Of what that fate was likely to be, there was in his own mind at this moment no manner of doubt whatever. Sioux and Shoshones, Cheyennes and Arapahoes, Kiowas and Comanches, the wild Indians, one and all, dealt out the same horrible fate to those who were unhappy enough to fall alive into their hands. The men were tied to the stake, or spread-eagled on the ground, and roasted by a slow fire, the fiends, who danced round with hideous yells, cutting slices from the living flesh of their victim and eating them before his eyes. No refinement of torture was spared until death mercifully released him from his agonies. The fate of a woman was worse. If she escaped being scalped and mangled on the spot, because her captors preferred to carry her away with them, she became the common property of the band, and the helpless victim of brutal outrage. Stephens had seen one sad-eyed, heart-broken captive who had been rescued from the clutches of the Sioux, and the memory of her woful tale seemed to ring in his ears now as he rode. And he had been in Denver when the dead body of a white woman, on which the Cheyenne Dog-Soldiers had worked their will, was brought in from the burnt ranch where they found her. The mangled body was placed in a room before burial, and the men of the city were taken in, a few at a time, to view the ghastly mutilation, and learn what an Indian war meant for their wives and daughters. Denver was young then, and three-fourths of its people were men of fighting age. Stephens could never forget the faces of those men as they returned from that room where the poor remains lay. Some came out sick and faint; some with faces deadly pale and burning eyes and tight-shut lips; and some blaspheming aloud and hurling curses on the monsters whose pleasure and delight it was to work such abhorred wrong on poor human flesh.

How vividly it all came back to him as he pressed rapidly forward after his companions; his heart grew hot within him while he pictured to himself the girl whose charming face he knew so well, and whom he had come to regard with such a friendly liking, now in the grasp of ruthless hands. Well, he would rescue, if indeed any rescue were possible, or perish in the attempt.

"More he could not; less he would not;Forwards, till the work be done."

The hoof-strokes of the mare seemed to beat time to the verse.

He overtook the cacique and the two younger men just where the trail they were following left the valley and entered the mountains. It was rougher going here, and Alejandro jumped off and ran behind to ease the mule as they pushed in single file up the rocky path. After journeying thus for some time they came to a beautiful little grassy park of a few acres, ringed around with dark pines, and with a small stream running through it. The Indians dismounted; the prospector sat in his saddle and looked at them. Were they in earnest in this expedition, or were they only trifling with him? They had hardly been going three hours, and here they were calling a halt already.

"Dismount for a short instant, Sooshiuamo," said the cacique. "We will give the beasts water here, and let them eat a few mouthfuls of grass. It is better so."

Stephens was not aware that it was the custom of the Indians to halt every couple of hours or so on a journey; they believe that the few minutes' rest given thus to their horses enables them to last out better, while American frontiersmen commonly make longer stages and longer halts. But as he had deliberately put himself under the guidance of these men, he thought it better to adopt their methods. He slacked his cinch, and, pulling off the bridle, allowed the mare to graze.

The Indians rolled cigarettes and smoked.

"Beautiful place, Sooshiuamo," said the cacique, who was standing up and looking around admiringly on the little valley. "How good the mountain grass is. I love this valley."

"Yes, it's just what you say, Cacique," answered Stephens; he knew the Indians loved this country which they now, as always, regarded as their own. He often wondered how much they felt the beauty of it in their souls, or whether with them it was a sort of physical instinct, like the yearning horses and cattle feel for their native pastures.