The Lone Ranche

At no time does the ex-Ranger stand in need of much sleep, even after the most protracted toil. Six hours is his usual daily or nocturnal dose; and as the grey dawn begins to glimmer over the tops of the shin oaks, he springs to his feet, shakes the dew from his shoulders like a startled stag, and then stoops down to examine the condition of his wounded comrade.

“Don’t ye git up yit, Frank,” he says. “We mustn’t start till we hev a clar view all roun’, an’ be sure there’s neery redskin in sight. Then we kin take the sun a leetle on our left side, an’ make tracks to the south-eastart. How is’t wi’ ye?”

“I feel weak as water. Still I fancy I can travel a little farther.”

“Wall, we’ll go slow. Ef there’s none o’ the skunks arter us, we kin take our time. Durn me! I’m still a wonderin’ what Injuns they war; I’m a’most sartint thar the Tenawa Kimanch – a band o’ the Buffler-eaters an’ the wust lot on all the parairia. Many’s the fight we rangers used to hev wi’ ’em, and many’s the one o’ ’em this child hev rubbed out. Ef I only hed my rifle hyar – durn the luck hevin’ to desart that gun – I ked show you nine nicks on her timmer as stan’ for nine Tenawa Kimanch. Ef’t be them, we’ve got to keep well to the southart. Thar range lays most in the Canadyen, or round the head o’ Big Wichitu, an’ they mout cross a corner o’ the Staked Plain on thar way home. Tharfer we must go southart a good bit, and try for the north fork o’ the Brazos. Ef we meet Indian thar, they’d be Southern Kimanch – not nigh sech feeroshus varmints as them. Do you know, Frank, I’ve been hevin’ a dream ’bout them Injuns as attacked us?”

“A dream! So have I. It is not strange for either of us to dream of them. What was yours, Walt?”

“Kewrus enuf mine war, though it warn’t all a dreem. I reck’n I war more ’n half awake when I tuk to thinkin’ about ’em, an’ ’twar somethin’ I seed durin’ the skrimmage. Didn’t you observe nothin’ queery?”

“Rather say, nothing that was not that way. It was all queer enough, and terrible, too.”

“That this child will admit wi’ full freedom. But I’ve f’t redskin afore in all sorts an’ shapes, yet niver seed redskin sech as them.”

“In what did they differ from other savages? I saw nothing different.”

“But I did; leastways, I suspeck I did. Didn’t you spy ’mong the lot two or three that had ha’r on thar faces?”

“Yes; I noticed that. I thought nothing of it. It’s common among the Comanches and other tribes of the Mexican territory, many of whom are of mixed breed – from the captive Mexican women they have among them.”

“The ha’r I seed didn’t look like it grew on the face o’ a mixed blood.”

“But there are pure white men among them – outlaws who have run away from civilisation and turned renegades – as also captives they have taken, who become Indianised, as the Mexicans call it. Doubtless it may have been some of these we saw.”

“Wall, you may be right, Frank. Sartint thar war one I seed wi’ a beard ’most as big as my own – only it war black. His hide war black, too, or nigh to it; but ef that skunk wan’t white un’erneath a coatin’ o’ charcoal an’ vermilion then Walt Wilder don’t know a Kristyun from a heethun. I ain’t no use spek’latin’ on’t now. White, black, yella-belly, or red, they’ve put us afoot on the parairia, an’ kim darned nigh wipin’ us out althegither. We’ve got a fair chance o’ goin’ un’er yet, eyther from thirst or the famishment o’ empty stomaks. I’m hungry enuf already to eat a coyat. Thar’s a heavy row afore us, Frank, an’ we must strengthen our hearts to hoein’ o’ it. Wall, the sun’s up; an’ as thar don’t appear to be any obstrukshun, I reck’n we’d best be makin’ tracks.”

Hamersley slowly and somewhat reluctantly rises to his feet. He still feels in poor condition for travelling. But to stay there is to die; and bracing himself to the effort, he steps out side by side with his colossal companion.

Chapter Nineteen.

The Departure of the Plunderers

On the day after the capture of the caravan the Indians, having consumed all the whisky found in the waggons, and become comparatively sober, prepared to move off.

The captured goods, made up into convenient parcels, were placed upon mules and spare horses. Of both they had plenty, having come prepared for such a sequel to their onslaught upon the traders.

The warriors, having given interment to their dead comrades, leaving the scalped and mutilated corpses of the white men to the vultures and wolves, mounted and marched off.

Before leaving the scene of their sanguinary exploit, they had drawn the waggons into a close clump and set fire to them, partly from a wanton instinct of destruction, partly from the pleasure of beholding a great bonfire, but also with some thoughts that it might be as well thus to blot out all the traces of a tragedy for which the Americans – of whom even these freebooters felt dread – might some day call them to account.

They did not all go together, but separated into two parties on the spot where they had passed the night. They were parties, however, of very unequal size, one of them numbering only four individuals.

The other, which constituted the main body of the plunderers, was the band of the Tenawa Comanchey, under their chief, Horned Lizard. These last turned eastward, struck off towards the head waters of the Big Witches, upon which and its tributaries lie their customary roving grounds.

The lesser party went off in almost the opposite direction, south-westerly, leaving the Llano Estacado on their left, and journeying on, crossed the Rio Pecos at a point below and outside the farthest frontier settlement of New Mexico towards the prairies. Then, shaping their course nearly due south, they skirted the spurs of the Sierra Blanca, that in this latitude extend eastward almost to the Pecos.

On arriving near the place known as Gran Quivira – where once stood a prosperous Spanish town, devoted to gathering gold, now only a ruin, scarcely traceable, and altogether without record – they again changed their course, almost zigzagging back in a north-westerly direction. They were making towards a depression seen in the Sierra Blanca, as if with the intention to cross the mountains toward the valley of the Del Norte. They might have reached the valley without this circumstance, by a trail well known and often travelled. But it appeared as if this was just what they wanted to avoid.

One of the men composing this party was he already remarked upon as having a large beard and whiskers. A second was one of those spoken of as more slightly furnished with these appendages, while the other two were beardless.

All four were of deep bronze complexion, and to all appearance pure-blooded aboriginals. That the two with hirsute sign spoke to one another in Spanish was no sure evidence of their not being Indians. It was within the limits of New Mexican territory, where there are many Indians who converse in Castilian as an ordinary language.

He with the whiskered cheeks – the chief of the quartet, as well as the tallest of them – had not left behind the share of plunder that had been allotted to him. It was still in his train, borne on the backs of seven strong mules, heavily loaded. These formed an atajo or pack-train, guided and driven by the two beardless men of the party, who seemed to understand mule driving as thoroughly as if they had been trained to the calling of the arriero; and perhaps so had they been.

The other two took no trouble with the pack-animals, but rode on in front, conversing sans souci, and in a somewhat jocular vein.

The heavily-bearded man was astride a splendid black horse; not a Mexican mustang, like that of his companions, but a large sinewy animal, that showed the breed of Kentucky. And so should he – since he was the same steed Frank Hamersley had been compelled to leave behind in that rapid rush into the crevice of the cliff.

“This time, Roblez, we’ve made a pretty fair haul of it,” remarked he who bestrode the black. “What with the silks and laces – to say nothing of this splendid mount between my legs – I think I may say that our time has not been thrown away.”

“Yours hasn’t, anyhow. My share won’t be much.”

“Come, come, teniente! don’t talk in that way. You should be satisfied with a share proportioned to your rank. Besides, you must remember the man who puts down the stake has the right to draw the winnings. But for me there would have been no spoils to share. Isn’t it so?”

This truth seeming to produce an impression on Roblez’s mind, he made response in the affirmative.

“Well, I’m glad you acknowledge it,” pursued the rider of the black. “Let there be no disputes between us; for you know, Roblez, we can’t afford to quarrel. You shall have a liberal percentage on this lucky venture; I promise it. By the bye, how much do you think the plunder ought to realise?”

“Well,” responded Roblez, restored to a cheerful humour, “if properly disposed of in El Paso or Chihuahua, the lot ought to fetch from fifteen to twenty thousand dollars. I see some silk-velvet among the stuff that would sell high, if you could get it shown to the rich damsels of Durango or Zacatecas. One thing sure, you’ve got a good third of the caravan stock.”

“Ha! ha! More than half of it in value. The Horned lizard went in for bulk. I let him have it to his heart’s content. He thinks more of those cheap cotton prints, with their red and green and yellow flowers, than all the silk ever spun since the days of Mother Eve. Ha! ha! ha!”

The laugh, in which Roblez heartily joined, was still echoing on the air as the two horsemen entered a pass leading through the mountains. It was the depression in the sierra, seen shortly after parting with the Horned Lizard and his band. It was a pass rugged with rock, and almost trackless, here and there winding about, and sometimes continued through canons or clefts barely wide enough to give way to the mules with the loads upon their backs.

For all this the animals of the travellers seemed to journey along it without difficulty, only the American horse showing signs of awkwardness. All the others went as if they had trodden it before.

For several hours they kept on through this series of canons and gorges – here and there crossing a transverse ridge that, cutting off a bend, shortened the distance.

Just before sunset the party came to a halt; not in the defile itself, but in one of still more rugged aspect, that led laterally into the side of the mountain. In this there was no trace or sign of travel – no appearance of its having been entered by man or animal.

Yet the horse ridden by Roblez, and the pack-mules coming after, entered with as free a step as if going into a well-known enclosure. True, the chief of the party, mounted on the Kentucky steed, had gone in before them; though this scarce accounted for their confidence.

Up this unknown gorge they rode until they had reached its end. There was no outlet, for it was a cul-de-sac– a natural court – such as are often found among the amygdaloidal mountains of Mexico.

At its extremity, where it narrowed to a width of about fifty feet, lay a huge boulder of granite that appeared to block up the path; though there was a clear space between it and the cliff rising vertically behind it.

The obstruction was only apparent, and did not cause the leading savage of the party to make even a temporary stop. At one side there was an opening large enough to admit the passage of a horse; and into this he rode, Roblez following, and also the mules in a string, one after the other.

Behind the boulder was an open space of a few square yards, of extent sufficient to allow room for turning a horse. The savage chief wheeled his steed, and headed him direct for the cliff; not with the design of dashing his brains against the rock, but to force him into a cavern, whose entrance showed its disc in the façade of the precipice, dark and dismal as the door of an Inquisitorial prison.

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