THE START
The delight with which this announcement was received by us two boys may
be imagined, for though we had hoped for such a decision we had not
dared to expect it. I, for my part, had feared that the matter of my
interrupted education alone would form an insurmountable barrier; and
indeed it was that subject which had proved the chief obstacle, as Uncle
Tom presently informed me. All the other objections were minor ones and
we discreetly refrained from asking for their recapitulation lest, in
going over them again, something not thought of before should crop up to
interfere. We were quite content to accept the decision without knowing
how it had been arrived at.
As to my interrupted schooling, though, that was a serious matter, as
Uncle Tom, in spite of his original ideas about education, clearly
understood.
"The main question with me, you see, Frank," said he, "was whether you
would benefit or otherwise by missing so much schooling, and though I
believe pretty strongly in the value of learning by practice and
experience, I should have felt obliged to decide against this expedition
if the professor had not come to the rescue. It is to him you owe our
decision to let you boys go."
I looked gratefully at Herr Bergen, who serenely waved the stem of his
pipe in our direction, though whether to intimate that the obligation
was nothing to speak of, or as a sign to Uncle Tom to go on, I could not
decide.
"I find," continued the latter, "that the winter is Dick's school-time;
and the professor has offered to take you in, Frank, and let you share
in Dick's work, undertaking to bring you on in your mathematics in
particular--which is your weak spot, you know. In the spring, when the
snow clears off, you are to start for the Dos Hermanos and make a
thorough search for this old copper mine; and as you will be doing it on
my account, I shall bear all expenses. There, that is all, except--well,
it is not necessary to mention that--but I was going to say that I rely
on you, old fellow, to make the most of your opportunity and in your own
person to prove the correctness of my theory that a boy may sometimes
learn more out of school than in it."
"I believe you may count on me, Uncle Tom," said I. "I'll do my level
best. And I'm tremendously obliged to you, Herr Bergen----"
"Not at all," interrupted the professor, "not at all. The fact is, I am
very glad to have a companion for Dick; and as to the schooling, the
obligation is not all on one side by any means, for to me it is one of
the greatest pleasures possible to teach a boy who really desires to
learn. I anticipate a most pleasant winter."
Thus was this odd arrangement made by which I, who by right should have
been attending a public school in St. Louis, became the private pupil of
an eminent German professor, pursuing my studies in a little log cabin
tucked away in a snow-encumbered valley of the Rocky Mountains--about as
queer a piece of topsyturviness, to my notion, as ever happened to a
boy, and one very unlikely to happen to any other boy, unless he chanced
to be endowed with an Uncle Tom cut out on the same pattern as mine.
"There's one thing, Frank," said my guardian, as we made our way down to
camp later in the day, "there's one thing I didn't mention in Dick's
presence, and that is that the professor laid great stress on the
pleasure and advantage it would be to Dick to have a companion of his
own age for once, and it was that which turned the balance with
me--after the educational question had been got out of the way. For I
owe Dick a good turn if I can do him one without hurting anybody else; I
told him I wouldn't forget his service in coming down through the storm
yesterday, and I haven't forgotten. I'm uncommonly glad to think that in
consenting to your taking part in this expedition--which I believe will
be a great thing for you, mentally as well as bodily--we shall be doing
a service to Dick and to the old professor at the same time."
"Well, Uncle Tom," said I, "you may be sure I am glad enough to stay,
and I hope it will not only prove a good thing for Dick and me, but for
you as well."
"I hope so, too. And it will, if you can locate that old copper mine,
and if it should prove to be anywhere near as good as it sounds."
As things turned out, I was destined to begin my winter's schooling
somewhat earlier than we had expected, for, five days after the storm,
Uncle Tom received from his Boston employers a telegram, forwarded by
mail from the end of the line, saying, "Come here at once. Important,"
when, without demur, he forthwith packed up his things and away he went;
while I, taking leave of our kind host, the assayer, moved up to Herr
Bergen's house.
I need not go into the details of our daily life on Mosby Creek; it is
enough to say that the winter was one of the pleasantest I had ever
spent. Time flew by, as was only natural, for there was not an idle
moment for either of us. Herr Bergen proved to be a most able
instructor, not only in the matter of scholarship but in general
training as well. He had served in the German army in his younger days,
and the habits of orderliness, precision and promptness remained with
him. We boys were made to toe the mark, and no mistake; there was a time
for work and a time for play, and whether for duty or pleasure, we had
to be on hand to the minute.
I do not wish to imply that the professor was harsh, or anything of the
sort; very far from it: he was most considerate of our shortcomings,
which were doubtless plentiful enough, and with infinite patience would
go over the ground again and again whenever Dick or I got ourselves
tangled up; a condition of things which happened on the average about
once a day to each of us. Then, every marked advance we made in any of
our studies was so obviously gratifying to the kindly old gentleman that
that fact alone was enough to spur a fellow on to doing his extra-best.
As a consequence, I, for my part, made very notable progress, and it was
with great pleasure, as you may suppose, that I was able later on to
write to Uncle Tom my conviction that I had gained rather than lost by
my winter's work.
One thing, at least, which I should not have acquired in school, I
gained by my association with the professor's household: I learned to
speak Spanish. Herr Bergen made a great point of it that I should do so,
as it would be pretty sure to come in useful during the ensuing summer.
He and Dick--and Romero, of course--all spoke it very well, so that my
opportunity for picking it up was excellent, and I made rapid progress;
my knowledge of Latin, which, though very far from profound, was up to
the average of a schoolboy of my age, being an immense help.
All this time we did not lack exercise--the professor was just as
particular about that as he was about our work--and Dick and I had many
a jolly outing on our snow-shoes, the management of which was another
thing I learned. I should not omit to mention also that I spent a good
deal of time and a liberal number of cartridges practising with a rifle,
thereby becoming a very fair shot; though, of course, I could not
compete with Dick, who, having learned as a mere child, seemed, almost,
to shoot straight by nature.
The weather on the average was splendid that winter, and there were but
few days when we could not get out. Four or five times, perhaps, during
the months I spent in the valley a snow-storm came raging down on us,
shutting us up for a day or two, after which the jovial sun would turn
up smiling again just as though nothing had happened.
It was toward the end of April that Dick and I began to get ready to
leave. The increasing power of the sun had cleared off all the snow
below eleven thousand feet, the green grass was beginning to show in
many places, and it was fair to suppose that by the time we reached the
Dos Hermanos we should find pasturage enough for our animals--two ponies
and a mule.
Dick already had his own pony, while the mule, a tough little beast by
name Uncle Fritz, was provided by the professor, both animals having
passed the winter on a ranch about a couple of thousand feet lower down.
Before he left, Uncle Tom had suggested hiring them for the season, but
the professor would not consent to his paying anything, saying that the
animals might just as well be put to some use as to waste their time
doing nothing all summer. Consequently, about the only expense to which
my guardian was put, besides furnishing provisions and tools for the
expedition, was the purchase of a pony and a rifle for me. This was a
very moderate outlay, and I was glad to think that Uncle Tom would get
off so cheaply, if our search should turn out a failure; and no one was
more ready to recognize that possibility--probability, I should rather
say, perhaps--than Uncle Tom himself, to whom the many stories in
general circulation of lost Spanish mines of fabulous richness were
familiar, and who knew very well how little foundation there was for
most of them. The present case, though, was different from the
generality, in that there existed documentary evidence that there had
been such a mine; a fact which altered the conditions entirely. For it
is safe to say that without such documentary evidence Uncle Tom would
never have consented to our undertaking such an enterprise, and Dick and
I, in consequence, would never have run into the series of adventures
which were destined to befall us before we were many weeks older.
It was on the first day of May that we at last took leave of our good
friend, Herr Bergen, and rode off down the valley, passing on our way
through the town of Mosby, where our appearance on horseback, driving
our pack-mule before us, excited among the citizens much speculation as
to our destination; a matter concerning which we had said not a word to
anybody. That it was a prospecting expedition any one could see, for the
pick and shovel could not very well be concealed, but where we were
bound for nobody knew, Uncle Tom having cautioned us that if we let a
word escape about an old Spanish mine we should have a hundred men at
our heels in no time; the very idea of such a thing having an
irresistible fascination for some people, especially for the
inexperienced newcomer.
[Illustration: "PASSING ON OUR WAY THROUGH THE TOWN OF MOSBY."]
Our reason for taking our way through town rather than crossing the
Mosby Ridge, back of the professor's house, and going down the
Mescalero valley, was that the latter course, cut up by many deep
cañons, would be much the more difficult of the two; for by following
down the eastern side of the ridge, as we proposed to do, we should
presently come to a point where that barrier, which up near Mescalero
began as a mountain range, became first a line of round-topped hills,
and then, about forty miles below town, came to an end altogether in a
little conical eminence known as The Foolscap. We could therefore pass
round its southern end without difficulty, when we should find ourselves
in the Mescalero valley at its wide part, and by heading southwestward
should arrive in about another twenty miles in the neighborhood of the
village of Hermanos--a route somewhat longer, but very much easier for
the animals, than the other one.
About five miles below town we abandoned the road, which there turned
off to the left to join the main stage-road, and continuing our
southward course up and down hill over the spurs of the Mosby Ridge we
made camp early in the afternoon; for our animals being as yet in rather
poor condition, we thought it advisable to give them an easy day for the
first one.
Selecting a sheltered nook among the pine trees, we unpacked the mule
and unsaddled the ponies, and then, while Dick cooked our supper, I
busied myself cutting pine boughs for our beds and chopping fire-wood.
Soon after sunset we rolled ourselves in our blankets, and in spite of
the novelty of the situation--for I had never before gone to bed with no
roof overhead nearer than the sky--I slept soundly until Dick's voice
aroused me, crying, "Roll out, old chap! Roll out! The sun will catch
you in bed in a minute," when I sprang up, fresh as a daisy and hungry
as a shark, as one always seems to do after sleeping out under the stars
in the keen, pine-scented air of the mountains.
Continuing our journey, we presently rounded the end of the Mosby Ridge,
and turning to the right saw before us the twin peaks of the Dos
Hermanos, standing there, as it seemed to me, like two faithful
sentinels guarding the secret of the King Philip mine.
"Now, Frank," said my companion, as we sat at supper on the little hill
with which the Ridge terminated, "we have a tough day of it before us
to-morrow. The valley down at this end, you see, is just a sage-brush
plain; there are no cañons down here like there are at the upper end;
and there is no water either, unfortunately--this side of the
mountains, I mean. The streams which come down from Mescalero and the
Ridge take a westerly turn and go off through a deep gorge to the north
of the peaks--you can see the black shadow of it from here."
"What do the people at Hermanos do for water, then?" I asked.
"There is a little stream which comes down from the saddle between the
Dos Hermanos peaks and runs eastward through the village. But it sinks
into the soil soon afterward, for the country down that way becomes very
sandy; it is the beginning of the Little Cactus Desert, across which the
pack-trains and the soldier escort used to travel, you remember, headed
for the Mosca Pass--that low place in the Santa Claras that you see down
there, due south from here."
"I see. So the nearest water is the stream running through the village.
Do you propose, then, to make for Hermanos?"
"No, I don't," replied Dick. "We want to avoid the village, if possible:
it is no use exciting the curiosity of old Galvez, if he happens to be
there. What I propose is that we make straight from here to the north
side of the peaks, leaving the village three or four miles on our left;
find a good camping-place, and make it a base for our preliminary
operations."
"That's all right," I assented. "But how much of a day's ride will it be
to the north side of the peaks? Further than to Hermanos, I suppose, and
that is over twenty miles."
"Yes," replied Dick, "twenty-five miles certainly and perhaps thirty--a
long stretch without water. But we can do it all right. I propose that
we get off by four in the morning, which ought to bring us to the
foothills of the Dos Hermanos by two or three o'clock in the afternoon."
"That's a good idea," I responded. "And if, by bad luck, we should find
that we can't make it, we can always turn off and head for the village
if we have to."
"Yes. So let us get to bed early. It will be a hard day at best, and we
may as well get all the sleep we can."
As my companion had predicted, the morrow did turn out to be a tough
day, and it began early, too. It was about half-past three in the
morning that I was awakened by the crackling of the fire, and sitting up
in my blankets, I saw Dick squatted on his heels, frying bacon over some
of the hot embers.
"Time to turn out, Frank," said he. "Breakfast will be ready in two
minutes; feeling pretty hungry this morning?"
By way of reply, I opened my mouth with a yawn so prodigious that Dick
laughingly continued:
"Hungry as all that, eh? Well, old man, if the size of your mouth is an
indication of the size of your appetite, I'll slice up another
half-pound of bacon!"
At this I laughed too, and jumping up, I ran to the creek, where I
soused my head and face in the cold water, which wakened me up
effectually.
By four o'clock we were under way, steering by compass; for, though the
stars were shining and the waning moon, then near its setting, furnished
some light, there was not enough to enable us to distinguish objects at
any distance. Our progress at first was pretty slow, for horses and
mules do not like traveling by night, but presently there came a change,
the sky behind us took on a rosy hue, and pretty soon there appeared on
the western horizon two glowing points, like a pair of triangular red
lamps hung up in the sky for our guidance--the summits of the Dos
Hermanos caught by the rising sun.
It was an inspiring sight! The very animals, seeming to feel its
influence, brisked up at once and stepped out gaily, while Dick and I,
who had been "mouching" along in silence, straightened up in our saddles
and fell to talking.
"I've been thinking, Dick," said I, "about what our first move should be
after we have found a good camping-place. My idea is that we should ride
down to the neighborhood of Hermanos and see if there is any sign of an
old trail leading from the village to the mountains."
"That's a good idea," Dick responded. "It is pretty certain that the
copper was brought down from the mine on the backs of burros, and the
supplies carried up in the same way, and if that was kept up for several
years there must have been a well-defined trail worn in this soft soil,
which may be visible yet."
"On the other hand," was my comment, "as the travel ceased so long ago,
isn't it probable that the trail will have been blown full of sand and
covered up?"
"That is likely enough--in many places, at least," replied my companion,
"though it is very possible, I think, that there may be some traces
left, for it is surprising how long such marks on the ground continue to
show. At any rate, we'll try it. Here's the sun; it's going to be
pretty hot, I expect."
Slowly we plodded along, hour after hour, until presently we had come
opposite the village, the mud-colored buildings of which, though not
more than three miles away, were barely distinguishable against the
gray-tinted plain upon which they stood. The green fields and gardens
surrounding the houses we could not see, they being below the general
level, but that they were there, and that the Mexicans were at that
moment engaged in irrigating them, we felt very sure. A light wind was
blowing from the south, and Dick declared that he could "smell the wet";
but though I sniffed and sniffed, I could not conscientiously say that I
could detect it myself.
Our animals, however, very evidently smelt it, for they evinced a
decided inclination to bear to the left, and we had a good deal of
difficulty in keeping their heads straight--the slightest inattention on
our part, and they were off the line in a moment. As is so often the
case, they had not cared to drink in the cool of the morning before we
started, and consequently, what with the heat of the sun and the alkali
dust they kicked up, they had become eager for water and would have
made a straight shoot for Hermanos if we had let them.
But we were nearing the mountains, an hour or two more and we should
reach water, probably, so, though it was painful to deny the poor
beasts, we kept right on, until about four in the afternoon--for it had
taken us longer than we had anticipated--when all three of them suddenly
lifted their heads, pricked their ears and wanted to run forward. They
smelt water ahead of them.
Pressing on at an increased pace, we were presently brought to a halt by
coming upon the brink of a cliff, at the base of which was a large pool
of clear water. The pool lay in a little grass-covered valley about half
a mile long, encompassed on all sides by the precipitous wall of rock.
We could not see that there was any way of getting down.
In order to get a better view, Dick and I dismounted and walked to the
edge, when the first thing we saw was a little bunch of half-a-dozen
scrawny Mexican cattle down near the pool.
"Then there is a way down," cried Dick. "Whoop!" he yelled, clapping his
mouth with his hand.
The cattle looked up, and seeing two horseless human beings on the
sky-line above them, away they went up the valley, vanished for an
instant among the fallen rocks at the foot of the cliff, and in another
moment appeared again on our level, going off southward with their tails
in the air, wild as deer.
"Come on!" cried Dick, jumping upon his horse. "Where they came up we
can get down."
Riding forward, we presently found the cow-trail, when, dismounting once
more, for it was too steep to ride without risk of breaking one's neck,
we led our horses down. Within another half-hour Dick and I, comfortably
seated in the shade of the rock, were enjoying a much-needed dinner,
while the three animals, their waist-lines enormously distended with the
gallons of water they had swallowed, were eagerly snapping up the young
green grass with which the valley was covered--all the troubles of the
day completely forgotten.