ON THE BRINK.
The sentinels on duty at the grove detected more than once through the
night the Comanches prowling around the encampment; but they evidently
saw enough to convince them that it wouldn’t pay to disturb the
sleepers, and so they slept on, on, till the bright summer sun pierced
the camp, and all was active again. Then, as the preparations were made
for resuming the journey to Fort Adams, and a careful reconnaissance
of the surrounding prairie was made, not a shadow of a red-skin could
be seen.
“I was in hopes that I could get a crack at Swico,” remarked Lightning
Jo, as he rode at the head of the company, with Egbert Rodman and
Lizzie Manning by his side, he insisting upon her keeping him company
when no danger was thereby incurred, as he declared there was no
telling when such an opportunity would be given him again, and, as a
matter of course, she was only too happy to comply with his wishes.
“I was saying that I had hopes of getting even with Swico, and he and
me have an account that must be squared one of these days, but I wasn’t
given the chance to draw a bead on his shadow. Howsumever, we’ll get
square one of these days, as my uncle used to remark when he cheated me
out of my last cent, and then kicked me out doors when I asked him for
a trifle. They’ve got some purty big devils among the Comanches, but I
think Swico goes ahead of ’em all. Do you know what sort of ornament
he has made for himself, and which he thinks more of than any thing he
ever had?”
The two replied that they had never heard mention of it.
“He wears a shirt of buck-skin, made without the usual ornaments of
beads and porcupine-quills, but hung with a full, long fringe _formed
from the hair of white women and children_! You needn’t look so
horrified,” the scout hastened to add, as he noted the expression upon
the faces of his friends. “I’ve sent word to Swico that him and me
could never square accounts till I got hold of that same thing, and I
never can get hold of it till I wipe the owner out, so you can see how
_that_ thing has got to be settled atween us.”
“And if you hadn’t come to Dead Man’s Gulch as you did, that fringe
would have been ornamented with _my_ tresses,” said Lizzie, looking
with an awed, grateful look at her preserver.
“I s’pose,” was the matter-of-fact reply; “the old scamp was expecting
me, and I wonder that he waited. But he sloped when some of his scouts
sent him word that we was coming. Howsumever, what’s the use of
talking? I don’t see as you’ve got any reason to think any thing about
him.”
“Where do you suppose this Comanche chief and his band are now?”
inquired Egbert.
“Off over the prairie somewhere, looking for more women and children.
That’s his _forte_, as they say down in Santa Fe, and I rather reckon
that there are plenty more in the same boat with him.”
The subject, at the present time, seemed distasteful to Lightning
Jo. The fight was over, and he considered all danger at an end, and
despite the bier, with its awful load, that followed in the rear of the
cavalcade, he seemed to feel a certain buoyancy of spirits that was
constantly struggling for expression in his words and manner.
The morning was clear and bracing, and but for the lumbering wagons the
whole party would have been bounding forward at a rate that would have
carried them to Fort Adams within the next few hours.
No interruption occurred until noon, when a halt was made for dinner,
the cavalry being provided with sufficient rations to make it
unnecessary to use the rifle in quest of game.
By the middle of the afternoon, they were within a dozen miles of the
fort; and, as there had been no signs of Indians visible since starting
in the morning, it was concluded to be no violation of prudence for
the main body to gallop on to their destination, leaving the wagons to
follow at their leisure, it being confidently expected that they would
come into the stockade shortly after nightfall.
Lightning Jo and a dozen of the best men, including Gibbons, Captain
Shields and Rodman, remained with the smaller party. All were mounted,
fully armed and provided with an abundance of ammunition, so that no
one felt any misgiving as to the result of this proceeding, which at
first sight might seem imprudent in the highest degree. In case any
formidable body of Indians should put in an appearance, and it was
deemed best to avoid a fight, the wagons could be abandoned, and the
women and children taken upon the horses with the men, and the flight
would be as rapid and sure as could be desired.
Nothing but the sternest necessity could induce Lightning Jo and his
party to abandon their dead friends to mutilation and outrage at the
hands of the Comanches; but they deemed that necessity so remote as
scarcely to require a thought, and so they separated, and the main body
rapidly vanished from view.
A few miles further on, the prairie was broken up in ridges and hills
of such size as to merit the name of mountains, and Jo declared that
several miles could be saved by passing through these. He had done so
several times, and knew of a pass through which the wagons could be
drawn with as much ease as upon the open plain.
Before entering this, however, he displayed his usual caution by
galloping ahead and making a reconnaissance, from which he returned
with the announcement that nothing in the shape of Indians was to be
feared.
“There seems to be a heavy storm coming,” he added, as he glanced up at
the darkening sky, “but we can stand that in the mountains as well as
upon the prairies; so let’s go ahead.”
As the little company rode into the ravine, and marked the ominous
gathering of the elements, more than one was sensible of a singular
depression of spirits--a strange, chilling foreboding such as sometimes
comes over us when standing beneath some impending calamity.
And indeed, had Lightning Jo suspected the appalling danger which was
already gathering over his brave band, he would have gone a thousand
miles before venturing a rod into that ravine!