THOSE WHO ESCAPED.
At this startling announcement Egbert Rodman sprung to his feet, with
a bound that carried him entirely over the fire, striking Lightning Jo
with such sudden violence as to throw him backward almost flat upon the
ground.
“What in thunder is the matter?” exclaimed the scout, laughing outright
as he regained his seat; “did he prick you?”
The young man was not looking at Jo, but backward in the gloom,
in which he discerned the unmistakable outlines of the terrible
nondescript, known as the Terror of the Prairie. It was but a glance
that he gained; for, while he looked, it began silently retreating
into the gloom, like a phantom born and sent forth by the night, and
returning again to its natural element.
Like a flash, Egbert raised his gun, pointed toward the point where
it had vanished, and pulled the trigger; but the percussion exploded
without firing the charge that had been wetted, during its rush through
the swollen canon.
“Never mind,” remarked Jo, with a laugh, “it done jist as much good as
if you had fired it; so rest easy on that score.”
“You needn’t tell me that,” was the dogged return of Egbert, “every
living creature has some vulnerable point, and that is no exception.”
“All right; if you want to make yourself famous jist find the spot,
and pop in a bullet there. Howsumever there always are some folks that
think they know more nor others, and p’r’aps they do, and then p’r’aps
ag’in they don’t.”
Egbert felt a little irritated at the taunting words of the
scout--which irritation was doubtless increased by the keen sense he
had of the rather ridiculous figure he had just made; but there was
no use of showing any resentment toward Lightning Jo; and, resuming
his seat, he began withdrawing the damaged charge from his gun. When
sufficiently composed, he asked the rather singular question:
“How many times do you suppose you have fired at this thing, Jo?”
“I don’t know exactly; the first shot told me that it warn’t any use;
but I s’pose I’ve let fly at him a half-dozen times more nor less, and
I’ve seen five times as many balls sent after him by others. What do
you want to know that for?”
“In all these cases did you aim at any particular portion of the
animal--his head or his body?”
“We always p’inted our bull-dogs at the spot where his heart would be
reached--that is, providing he had any to reach.”
“That proves beyond a doubt that the Terror can not be killed in that
manner. How is it that you never aimed at his head?”
Lightning Jo seemed to be surprised at this question, and stared rather
wonderingly at Egbert, before he replied:
“Hanged if I know what the reason is. You know it’s the custom among
us chaps to aim at the heart instead of the head, the same as we do in
a buffalo, ’cause you’re surer of wiping out the critter there than
anywhere else. There’s more than one critter that walks the airth
that wouldn’t mind a volley in the head, more than they would so many
raindrops.”
“Very well then; the next time you or I shoot at him we’ll send the
bullet into his head, and then, if he don’t mind that, I’ll be inclined
to think there is something strange about it.”
“You will, eh?” replied Jo, with a grunt; “that’s very kind in you, and
I hope you won’t forget it.”
“As you say the appearance of the Prairie Terror is always a sure omen
of coming disaster, what, in your opinion, does its coming foretell in
the present instance? What additional calamity is about to overtake us?”
“We’ll l’arn that afore long; there ain’t any use trying to find out.
All I care to find out is what has become of Lizzie, and as soon as
the first streak of daylight comes I’m going to find out whether she’s
in the land of the living or not.”
The heart of Egbert said “_amen_” to this, and his prayer was that the
long, desolate night might hurry by, and the opportunity come for them
to do something together for unraveling the fate of the maiden, for
whom both entertained the strongest affection.
Egbert, at the advice of the scout, attempted to sleep--but he had too
much on his mind to succeed in doing so. His draggling garments did not
give him special discomfort, as the night was only moderately cool and
Jo kept the fire burning quite vigorously.
But between his sad forebodings of the fate of Lizzie, whom he seemed
to love with a devotion such as had never permeated his being before,
and the haunting fear of another visit from the Terror of the Prairie,
there was little likelihood of his falling asleep.
The strange tales that the scout had told him of this remarkable
creature, and of his extraordinary meetings with him, produced their
effect upon Egbert, who, although of a practical nature, with an
intelligent mind, was not without a certain imagination, peculiar to
those of his age, which made him susceptible to the influences of the
time and the place and his surroundings.
The roar of the rushing canon had died out entirely, and probably
that very part over which the whites, men, women and animals, had
been carried with such tremendous velocity, was now almost entirely
dry again. Through the matted, overhanging branches Egbert caught the
glimmer of several stars, showing that the storm had cleared away
entirely. There was no moon, however, and, in the valley in which
they had encamped, the darkness was so profound as to be absolutely
impenetrable beyond the circle illuminated by the camp-fire.
Young Rodman found the suspense so intolerable, that he proposed that
they should leave this spot and wander among the hills until daylight.
He believed that they would encounter some of the survivors, and
possibly might learn something regarding Lizzie, who might be in need
of the very assistance that would thus be afforded her.
But Lightning Jo had made up his mind to remain where he was, and no
persuasion could induce him to change his location. He declared that he
could accomplish nothing by stumbling around in the dark, while Egbert
would be pretty certain to break his neck in some of the pitfalls that
were to be encountered at every step.
And without attempting to depict the dismal expedients which the
wretched lover resorted to, to while away the unspeakably dreary hours,
we now hasten forward to the moment when the unmistakable light of
morning stole through the hills, and Lightning Jo, springing to his
feet, declared that the moment had come when the terrible suspense was
to end, and they were soon to learn the worst that had happened to the
party and to the one dear one--Lizzie Manning.
The first point toward which the two directed their steps was the
canon, through which they had had their memorable passage. This was
but a short distance away, and, upon being reached, it was found as
they had anticipated, entirely clear of running water. Here and there
were muddy, stagnant pools collected in the hollows and cavities, but
nothing of any living person, or animal, or _debris_ of wagons, was
discerned.
“Had we not better descend and follow the canon to the outlet?” asked
Egbert. “We shall not miss any thing then on the way.”
Lightning Jo acted upon the suggestion, and after a little searching
for a safe means of descent, the bottom was reached, and they pursued
their way in silence, agitated by strange emotions, as they recalled
the memorable experience of a few nights before.
They walked side by side, neither breaking the impressive stillness by
a word, but carefully scanning every foot of ground passed in quest of
some remnant of those who had been their companions in the terrible
descent.
Suddenly the scout pointed to a wagon-wheel that was driven in between
two jutting points of rocks, where it had been immovably fixed by the
tremendous momentum.
Both scanned it a few minutes, and, seeing nothing more, passed on for
fully a quarter of a mile, when the basin to which reference has been
made was reached, and here a great surprise awaited them.
It being quite shallow, the water had been carried away by several
outlets, and not a man had been borne beyond. Fragments of the wagons
were scattered in every direction, and at one side of the dry lake were
to be seen Captain Shields, Gibbons and a number of the men covering
up a large grave, while seated around were several women with their
children, as miserable and desolate-looking objects as could possibly
be imagined.
Not having dared to hope that so many could have escaped, the two
paused in mute silence and stared at them, their looks after the first
startling shock being directed in anxious quest of _the one_--Lizzie
Manning--a look that was unrewarded by a sight of the beautiful maiden,
for whom both were ready to do and dare any thing.
Still hoping that she might be somewhere in the vicinity, they hurried
forward and put the all-important question.
Sad to say, no living person had seen her or knew aught regarding her.
And then their own sad story was told. All, of course, had been hurried
irresistibly into this basin--some bruised, and almost senseless. Three
of the men were killed, and also a mother and her two children. The
ghastly cargo of the wagon, containing the remains of those who had
fallen in the fight in Dead Man’s Gulch, was also there. The soldiers,
who had charge of the women and children, clung bravely to them, and
the shallowness of the water enabling the horses to touch bottom almost
immediately, they were not long in floundering out upon dry land, where
the miserable group huddled together until the coming of day should
enable them to see where they were, and to do what was possible for
themselves.
When the dawn of light showed them the dreadful number of inanimate
bodies, their first proceeding was to give them a decent burial, as it
was out of the question to think of taking them to Fort Adams after the
destruction of the wagons. And so, from the contents of the wagons,
lying everywhere, they gathered up a half-dozen shovels, and as many
men went to work with such a vigor and skill that in a few minutes a
large, shallow grave was dug, and into this all were tenderly placed
and covered up from mortal sight, all shedding tears of the deepest
sorrow over the terrible death that had been decreed by inexorable fate.
While they were thus employed, others were absent among the hills in
quest of the mustangs, and Jo and Egbert had exchanged but a few words
with their friends, when they began coming in with the animals, that
were all browsing at no great distance.
Their purpose was to mount the horses as speedily as possible, and
to make all haste to Fort Adams. The women and children were in a
deplorable condition and needed care and a rest of several days before
continuing their journey to Santa Fe.
When this proposal was mentioned to Lightning Jo, he indorsed it at
once, telling them to lose not a moment. They had not a particle of
eatable food in their possession, and it was extremely difficult to
procure any in these hills, which, rather singularly, were known to
have been for years almost entirely devoid of game of any description.
Consequently, as nothing at all was to be gained by remaining here, the
dictate of prudence was that they should depart at the very moment they
could make ready.
As a matter of course, Lizzie Manning was among the first that was
missed by the group that huddled on the banks of the basin, and so
great was the concern regarding her that during the darkness Captain
Shields and two of the men groped around the neighborhood in quest of
her, calling her name and searching along the shore of the basin for
hours. The search was made more extended and thorough, when they had
the daylight at their command, but it resulted in an entire failure.
Not the least trace was gained, either of her or of the horse which she
was known to be riding.
One of the men who had helped to bring in the mustangs took occasion to
tell Lightning Jo, in a confidential way, that he had detected signs of
Indians, and he believed there was quite a number among the hills, and
that it was impossible that they should know nothing of the presence of
the whites so near them.
This information surprised the scout and caused him no little
uneasiness. He questioned the soldier closely, and became convinced
that he was right, and that the whole company were in great danger of
attack. Under these circumstances, he took it in hand himself, and told
them all of the urgency of haste in reaching their destination.
Scarcely fifteen minutes had passed when every man was upon his
mustang, and the females, with their offspring, were distributed among
them. Lightning Jo and Egbert Rodman placed themselves at their head,
and the scout cautiously led the way through another narrow pass for
something like a quarter of a mile, when they reached the open prairie
once more.
“And now go,” he added, “and never pause or look back until you ride
into the stockade of Fort Adams.”
And his advice was taken and followed almost to the letter; but, even
then it is impossible to imagine whether they would have succeeded in
reaching the shelter after all without being harassed by the Comanches,
but for the fact that ere they had gone three miles they met a party
of rescue sent out by Colonel Cleaves, who had become alarmed at their
failure to come in during the night. Under the escort of this powerful
company of cavalry, the journey was completed in safety, and we now bid
them good-by at the friendly fort and turn our attention to those in
whom we have a more immediate interest.