The spot upon which the lancer troop had halted was less than a league
from the grove that gave shelter to the two Americans. In the
translucent atmosphere of the tableland it looked scarce a mile. The
individual forms of troopers could be distinguished, and the two who had
taken themselves apart. The taller of these was easily identified as
the commanding officer of the troop.
"If they'd only keep thar till arter sundown," mutters Wilder,
"especially him on yur hoss, I ked settle the hul bizness. This hyar
gun the doc presented to me air 'bout as good a shootin'-iron as I'd
care to shet my claws on, an 'most equal to my own ole rifle. I've gin
it all sorts o' trials, tharfor I know it's good for plum center at a
hundred an' fifty paces. Ef yonner two squattin' out from the rest 'ill
jest stay thur till the shades o' night gie me a chance o' stealin'
clost enuf, thar's one o' 'em will never see daylight again."
"Ah!" exclaimed Hamersley, with a sigh of despair, and yet half hopeful,
"if they would but remain there till night, we might still head them
into the valley, time enough to get our friends away."
"Don't you have any sech hopes, Frank; thar's no chance o' that I kin
see what the party air arter. They've made up thar mind not to 'tempt
goin' inter the gully till they hev a trifle o' shadder aroun' them.
They think that ef they're seen afore they git up to the house their
victims might 'scape 'em. Tharfor they purpiss approachin' the shanty
unobserved, and makin' a surround o' it. That's thar game. Cunnin' o'
them, too, for Mexikins."
"Yes, that is what they intend doing--no doubt of it. Oh, heavens! only
to think we are so near, and yet cannot give Miranda a word of warning!"
"Can't be helped. We must put our trust in Him as hes an eye on all o'
us--same over these desert purairas an' mountains as whar people are
livin' in large cities. Sartin we must trust to Him an' let things
slide a bit, jest as He may direct 'em. To go out of our kiver now 'ud
be the same as steppin' inter the heart o' a forest fire. Them sogers
air mounted on swift horses, an' 'ud ketch up wi these slow critturs o'
mules in the shakin' o' goat's tail. Thurfor, let's lie by till night.
Tain't fur off now. Then, ef we see any chance to steal down inter the
valley, we'll take edvantage o' it."
Hamersley can make no objection to the plan proposed. He sees no
alternative but accede to it. So they remain watching the halted troop,
regarding every movement with keen scrutiny.
For several hours are they thus occupied, until the sun begins to throw
elongated shadows over the plain. Within half an hour of its setting
the Mexicans again mount their horses and move onwards.
"Jest as I supposed they'd do," said Walt. "Thar's still all o' ten
miles atween them and the place. They've mezyured the time it'll take
'em to git thur--an hour or so arter sundown. Thar ain't the shadder o'
a chance for us to steal ahead o' 'em. We must stay in this kiver till
they're clar out o' sight."
And they do stay in it until the receding horsemen, who present the
appearance of giants under the magnifying twilight mist, gradually grow
less, and at length fade from view under the thickening darkness.
Not another moment do Hamersley and the hunter remain within the grove,
but springing to their saddles, push on after the troop.
Night soon descending, with scarce ten minutes of twilight, covers the
plain with a complete obscurity, as if a shroud of crape had been
suddenly thrown over it.
There is no moon, not even stars, in the sky; and the twin _buttes_,
that form the portals of the pass, are no longer discerned.
But the ex-Ranger needs neither moon, nor stars, nor mountain peaks to
guide him for such a short distance. Taking his bearings before
starting from the black-jack copse, he rides on in a course straight as
the direction of a bullet from his own rifle, until the two mounds loom
up, their silhouettes seen against the leaden sky.
"We mustn't go any furrer, Frank," he says, suddenly pulling up his
mule; "leastwise, not a-straddle o' these hyar conspikerous critters.
Whether the sogers hev goed down inter the valley or no, they're sartin
to hev left some o' the party ahind, by way o' keepin' century. Let's
picket the animals out hyar, an' creep forrad afut. That'll gie us a
chance o' seeing in, 'ithout bein' seen."
The mules being disposed of as Walt had suggested, the two continue
their advance.
First walking erect, then in bent attitude, then crouching still lower,
then as quadrupeds on all-fours, and at length, crawling like reptiles,
they make their approach to the pass that leads down into the valley.
They do not enter it; they dare not. Before getting within the gape of
its gloomy portals they hear voices issuing therefrom. They can see
tiny sparks of fire glowing at the lips of ignited cigars. From this
they can tell that there are sentries there--a line of them across the
ravine, guarding it from side to side.
"It ain't no use tryin', Frank," whispers Wilder; "ne'er a chance o' our
settin' through. They're stannin' thick all over the ground. I kin see
by thar seegars. Don't ye hear them palaverin? A black snake kedn't
crawl through among 'em 'ithout bein' obsarved."
"What are we to do?" asks Hamersley, in a despairing tone.
"We kin do nothin' now, 'ceptin' go back an' git our mules. We must
move them out o' the way afore sun-up. 'Taint no matter o' use our
squattin' hyar. No doubt o' what's been done. The main body's goed
below; them we see's only a party left to guard the gap. Guess it's all
over wi' the poor critters in the cabin, or will be afore we kin do
anythin' to help 'em. Ef they ain't kilt, they're captered by this
time."
Hamersley can scarce restrain himself from uttering an audible groan.
Only the evident danger keeps him silent.
"I say agin, Frank, 'tair no use our stayin' hyar. Anythin' we kin do
must be did elsewhar. Let's go back for our mules, fetch 'em away, an'
see ef we kin clomb up one o' these hyar hills. Thar's a good skirtin'
o' kiver on thar tops. Ef the anymals can't be tuk up, we kin leave
them in some gulch, an' go on to the summut ourselves. Thar we may
command a view o' all that passes. The sogers'll be sartin to kum past
in the mornin', bringin' thar prisoners. Then we'll see who's along wi'
'em, and kin foller thar trail."
"Walt, I'm willing to do as you direct. I feel as if I'd lost all hope,
and could give way to downright despair."
"Deespair be durned! Thar's allers a hope while thar's a bit o' breth
in the body. Keep up yur heart, man! Think o' how we war 'mong them
wagguns. That oughter strengthen yur gizzern. Niver say die till yur
dead, and the crowner are holdin' his 'quest over yur karkidge. Thet's
the doctryne o' Walt Wilder."
As if to give illustrative proof of it, he catches hold of his comrade's
sleeve; with a pluck turns him around, and leads him back to the place
where they had parted from the mules. These are released from their
pickets, then led silently, and in a circuitous direction, towards the
base of one of the buttes.
Its sides appear too steep for even a mule to scale them; but a
boulder-strewed ravine offers a suitable place for secreting the
animals.
There they are left, their lariats affording sufficient length to make
them fast to the rocks, while a _tapado_ of the saddle-blankets secures
them against binneying.
Having thus disposed of the animals, the two men scramble on up the
ravine, reach the summit of the hill, and sit down among the cedar-scrub
that crowns it, determined to remain there and await the "development of
events."