THE CHASE
In the last mile, however, we pulled away from them, as their ponies did
not have the well fed strength of ours. We exchanged shots as we rode,
but the motion and speed made our aim uncertain, as fortunately too was
theirs.
I found out later that the nearest call I had, or rather Coyote had, was
where a bullet struck into the piece of antelope that was swung on my
saddle.
With a last thrilling dash we charged into the shelter of the foothills
among the rocks and pines. Here we swung off from our ponies and ran
back to check our foremost pursuers. The three who were in the lead had
absolutely disappeared.
But a half mile below were to be seen the rest of the Indians scampering
like mad to overtake us.
"Where have those three gone?" I asked.
"They have taken to the ravine," replied Jim, "we can't stop here, they
would surround us in a jiffy. We will have to go higher up the canyon."
There was no chance for us to make our home camp, for the Indians that
were coming up the plain, would have headed us off.
So we sprang on our ponies again. They had recovered their wind in the
brief rest we had given them. With the impetus of the great danger just
behind us we started on a reckless dash up the canyon. We were
determined to find some place we could defend, even if we could not
escape.
We tore through the brush, jumped fallen logs, scrambled between rocks,
zigzagged from this side to that of the ravine that was not precipitous
enough for a canyon.
We urged our horses to the limit of their strength, and they were
perfectly willing. Jim was in the lead and his unerring quickness of
instinct guided him in finding the best trail.
The storm was darkening down the mountains before us and the thunder was
rolling from height to height. The gray rain was sweeping down from the
summits it seemed to us as if in a solid wall.
The ravine now broadened into a sort of a valley with high mountain
sides partially clothed with pines, in some places very thick, and on
the upper slopes were great granite boulders.
We saw above us now a conical hill, several hundred feet high, with a
growth of pine upon the slopes and crowned with great rocks. It was half
a mile distant and near the center of the valley.
"There is the place for us," said Jim, "if we are brought to bay."
"It looks to me as if we were going to stand these beggars off," I said,
"until we can cross over the mountains to our camp."
"Yes, but you never can tell in this country what is going to happen,"
said Jim.
We caught occasional glimpses of our pursuers down the ravine but they
had not gained much on us. We skirted the base of the conical hill and
had gone on for a short distance; it was growing dusky under the shadow
of the storm, when a zigzag flash of lightning revealed the slope above
us with startling distinctness.
"See what's ahead," I cried, for Jim was looking over his shoulder at
the Indians following us.
A party of braves were trailing down the upper slope.
One thing and only one thing was left for us to do. Instantly we turned
our horses squarely around and made for the hill we had just passed.
We were not a second too soon, for the first party were coming up the
ravine, running swiftly like hounds upon our trail. We fired one volley
and then charged up the slope full tilt over rocks, dodging as best we
could the trees.
It did not take us long to reach the summit. The Indians did not attempt
to follow us, but spread out under shelter, satisfied apparently to have
us surrounded. In a short time the upper party of braves had joined
forces with our pursuers.
Before we had fairly reached the top the rain swept down the mountain
valley, giving us protection from the marksmanship of the enemy.
"This place is all right," said Jim, "we could stand them off for a
hundred years if we had food and water."
"Yes," I joined in, "it is like a regular fort only we can't get the
horses up."
"We will see to that later," returned Jim, "let's examine these rocks."
We left our horses below and crawled up a narrow trail between two rocks
and found on top a depression with stones surrounding it, in which grew
some bushes and scattered tufts of grass.
"Here is a good place for shelter," suggested Jim.
"It certainly is," I acquiesced.
There was a big flat rock supported on two others and room for us to
crawl under if we stooped down. Underneath was a large enough space for
our camp, the ground covered with clean gravel.
"This will be our bedroom," I proposed.
"Yes," replied Jim, "if you don't mind the upper floor in case of fire."
"We must get the horses up," I said, "or the Indians will be stealing
them."
"Don't you believe it," returned Jim, "those beggars are not going to
risk their valuable lives. They think they have got us cold without
taking any chances. All they will have to do is to squat around and wait
for us to be starved out."
So we went down below where our ponies were patiently waiting, their
heads drooping. They were just about played out. It had been a terrible
chase and they had saved our lives by their speed and stamina.
We got them up the narrow path between the rocks. Only at one point were
we exposed to the Indian fire and then we got it. An irregular
succession of shots rang out and some of the bullets left their
splotches on a rock above us, but most of them went very wild. The heavy
rain was a veil of protection.
One thing we had learned was that the Indians were bad marksmen and
were easily flurried. They were too anxious to save their own skins to
take careful aim. Even when they had a good quiet chance they did not
seem able to land a direct blow.
Then it is hard to shoot accurately at a steep angle; the wind too and
the rain as suggested, helped us, for the latter blurred everything. So
we were not greatly worried by the shooting.
In a few seconds we had got the ponies on top. And we thought they were
comparatively safe, but there was one side that was lower than the
others and the Indians kept potting away.
"We will soon fix that," said Jim. "Make Coyote lie down out of range."
This I had no difficulty in doing. He seemed to know instinctively what
was expected of him.
"Now," said Jim, "we will build up that side."
So we went to work and dragged up some small fallen trees from the slope
below and with stones, large and small, built up a barricade.
It seemed to me that Jim exposed himself unnecessarily to the fire of
the enemy. He seemed to be perfectly happy as the bullets hummed around
him, as he put a rock in place on the parapet. In fact he seemed to mind
them no more than the pouring rain.
It seemed like quite a little battle, with the rifle flashes from
behind the brush or rocks and Jim's grey figure on the wall of the fort.
"That's all hunky dory," said Jim. "It beats old Fort Sumter."
"Get up Piute, Coyote," I urged. "They are safe here now as in the old
cow pastures at home."
The ponies seemed to recognize that they were well protected, for they
began to graze around as comfortably as you please in the little hollow
with its surrounding rock, yanking at the bunches of tall grass and
biting the leaves of the scrub bushes. Everything is fodder to a
broncho.
"Let's get the saddles under shelter," said Jim.
So we dragged them down and put them in our camp under the big rock.
Next we built a fire in the dry shelter and made coffee in a big tin cup
we carried in our haversack.
Of course the grains were not as fine as though the original coffee had
been run through a coffee mill, for we had pounded it up in a hollow
cup-shaped rock with another stone for pestle.
"Hold on, Jo," exclaimed Jim. "Don't waste our canteen water on that
coffee, we may need it."
"You are not going down to the creek," I cried, in alarm.
I knew only too well what lengths Jim's bravado would carry him. For I
had not forgotten the time that he went down to the creek in our first
canyon in Colorado, on a moonlight night when we knew that there were
Indians lurking near. So I was prepared for the worst.
"No," he replied, to my intense relief, "I am going to look around
here."
"You won't find any on top of a hill like this," I said, "the water all
runs off."
"All right, my boy, but I'm going to look. You can stay in the kitchen
and cook the venison."
Then Jim stooped out of the front door and disappeared. In a short time
I heard his low, peculiar whistle and I ran out. I found Jim between two
large rocks.
"Here you are," he said.
I hastened to satisfy my curiosity. I saw quite a little water in a
pocket between the rocks.
"Quite a lake, isn't it?" asked Jim.
"Yes, it is a good deal when you don't expect anything," I replied.
"It will help us out all right," remarked Jim. "We will have to be
mighty careful of our water supply. We can manage for food even if we
have to eat Coyote."
"Piute goes first," I retorted, "his name sounds more eatable anyway."
"Well, we won't quarrel about that now," replied Jim. "The next thing on
the program is supper."
We were quite comfortable in our dry shelter with the rain beating
outside and as an added luxury we were not even bothered with the smoke,
for there was a crevice in the rock at one side near the end, which made
a good chimney, and the smoke drew through that.
Even though we were comfortable we knew that our situation was desperate
and as we sat eating we canvassed our prospects thoroughly.