The arrival of the Rangers at that particular time is certainly a
contingency of the strangest kind. Ten minutes later, and they would
have found the jacal deserted; for Hamersley and Wilder had made up
their minds to set off, taking the traitor along with them. The Texans
would have discovered signs to tell of the place having been recently
occupied by a large body of men, and from the tracks of shod horses
these skilled trailers would have known the riders were not Indians.
Still, they would have made delay around the ranche and encamped in the
valley for that night. This had been their intention, their horses
being jaded and themselves wearied making their way up the canon.
Though but ten miles in a direct line, it was well nigh twenty by the
winding of the stream--a good, even difficult, day's journey.
On going out above they would have seen the trail of Uraga's party, and
known it to be made by Mexican soldiers. But, though these were their
sworn foemen, they might not have been tempted to follow them. The
start of several hours, their own animals in poor condition, the
likelihood of a larger force of the enemy being near--all this would
have weighed with them, and they would have continued on to the cave
whither the renegade was guiding them--a direction altogether different.
A very singular coincidence, then, their coming up at that exact
instant. It seemed the hand of Providence opportunely extended; and in
this light Hamersley looked upon it, as also the ex-Ranger.
Briefly as may be they make known to the new-comers all that had
transpired, or as much as for the time needs to be told. Then appeal to
them for assistance.
By the Texans their cause is instantly espoused--unanimously, without
one dissenting voice. On the contrary, all are uttered with an energy
and warmth that give Hamersley a world of hope. Here are friends, whose
enemies are his own. And they are in strength sufficient to pursue
Uraga's troop and destroy it. They may overtake it that very night; if
not, on the morrow. And if not then, they will pursue it to the borders
of New Mexico--to the banks of the Del Norte itself.
His heart is no more depressed. The chance of rescuing his friends from
death and saving his betrothed from dishonour is no longer hopeless.
There is now a probability--almost a certainty--of its success. Backed
by Wilder, he proposes instant pursuit.
To the Texans the proposal is like an invitation to a ball or frontier
fandango. Excitement is the breath of their life, and a fight with
Mexicans their joy; a pursuit of these their supremest delight. Such as
this, moreover, having for its object not only the defeat of a hated
foe, but the recovery of captives, beautiful women, as their old comrade
Walt enthusiastically describes them, is the very thing to rouse the
Rangers to energetic action, rekindling in their hearts the spirit of
frontier chivalry--the same which led them to become Rangers.
Notwithstanding their wild enthusiasm they do not proceed rashly.
Haynes, their captain, is an old "Indian fighter," one of the most
experienced chiefs of that Texan border warfare, so long continued.
Checking their impatience to pursue at once, he counsels prudence and
deliberate action. Cully also recommends this course.
"But why should we lose a moment?" inquires the hot-blooded Kentuckian,
chafing at the delay; "they cannot yet be more than ten miles off. We
may overtake them before sunset."
"That's just what we mustn't do," rejoins the Ranger chief. "Suppose
they get sight of us before we're near? On the naked plain, you say it
is, they'd be sure to do that. What then? Their horses, I take it, are
fresh, compared with ours. They might gallop off and leave us gazing
after them like so many April fools. They'd have time, too, to take
their prisoners along with them."
This last speech makes an impression upon all. Even Hamersley no longer
offers opposition.
"Let the sun go down," continues the Texan captain; "that's just what we
want. Since they're bound due west I reckon we can easily keep on their
trail, clear night or dark one. Here's Nat Cully can do that; and if
our friend Walt hasn't lost his old skill he can be trusted for the
same."
The Ranger and ex-Ranger, both standing by, remain modestly silent.
"Our plan will be," pursues Haynes, "to approach their camp under cover
of night, surround, and so make certain of them. They'll have a camp;
and these Mexican soldiers are such greenhorns, they're sure to keep big
fires burning, if it is only to give them light for their card-playing.
The blaze'll guide us to their squatting-ground, wherever they may make
it."
The captain's scheme seems so rational that no one opposes it. Walt
Wilder in words signifies assent to it, and Hamersley, with, some
reluctance, is at length constrained to do the same.
It is resolved to remain two hours longer in the valley, and then start
for the upper plain. That will give time to recruit their horses on the
nutritious _gramma_ grass, as themselves on the game they have killed
before entering the canon. This hangs plentifully over the horns of
their saddles, in the shape of wild turkeys, haunches of venison, and
pieces of bear meat.
The fire on the cabin hearth and those kindled by the soldiers outside
are still smouldering. They are quickly replenished, and the abandoned
cooking utensils once more called into use. But pointed saplings, and
the iron ramrods of their rifles--the Ranger's ordinary spit--are in
greater demand, and broiling is the style of _cuisine_ most resorted to.
The turkeys are plucked and singed, the venison and bear meat cut into
collops, and soon two score pieces are sputtering in the flames of
half-a-dozen bivouac fires, while the horses, unbridled, are led out
upon their lariats, and given to the grass.