RESCUED.
In spite of their utmost efforts Mr. Hardy's party had made slower
progress than they had anticipated. Many of the horses had broken
down under fatigue; and as they had no spare horses to replace them
as the Indians had in like case done from those they had driven off
from Mr. Mercer, they were forced to travel far more slowly than at
first. They gained upon the Indians, however, as they could tell by
the position of the camping ground for the night.
At three o'clock on the afternoon of the last day they passed the
place their enemy had left that morning; but although they kept on
until long after sunset, many of them having led their horses all
day, they were still more than thirty miles away from the mountains
among which they knew that the Indian village was situated.
None of the Gauchos had ever been there, but they knew its
situation and general features by report. There had been no
difficulty in following the trail since they had struck it. The
broad line of trodden ground and the frequent carcasses of sheep
sufficiently told the tale.
That was a night of terrible anxiety to all. They knew that already
Ethel was in the Indian village, and they thought with a sickening
dread of what might happen the next day. Nothing, however, could be
done. Many of the party were already exhausted by their long day's
walk under a burning sun. It was altogether impossible to reach the
village that night.
Before lying down for the night, Mr. Hardy asked all the party to
join in a prayer for the preservation of his daughter during the
following day; and it was a strange and impressing sight to see the
group of sunburned, travel-worn men standing uncovered while their
leader offered up an earnest prayer.
Mr. Hardy then said for that night it was unnecessary to keep watch
as usual. The Indians had pushed on and could no longer dread
pursuit, and therefore there was no risk of a night attack. Besides
which, there was little chance of his sleeping. This proposition
was a most acceptable one, and in a very short time a perfect
silence reigned in the camp.
Before daybreak they were again on the march, all on foot and
leading their horses, in order to spare them as much as possible
should they be required at night. Speed was now no object. It was,
they knew, hopeless to attack in broad daylight, as the Indians
would be probably more than a match for them, and Ethel's life
would be inevitably sacrificed. They walked, therefore, until
within six or seven miles of the gorge, nearer than which they
dared not go, lest they might be seen by any straggling Indian.
Their halting-place was determined by finding a stream with an
abundance of fresh grass on its banks. They dared not light a fire,
but chewed some of the tough charqui, and watched the distant cleft
in the hill which led to the ardently wished-for goal.
As evening fell they were all in the saddle, and were pleased to
find that the horses were decidedly fresher for their rest. They
did not draw rein until the ground became stony, and they knew that
they must be at the mouth of the gorge. Then they dismounted and
picketed the horses. Two of the Gauchos were stationed with them as
guards, and the rest went stealthily forward--the rockets being
interested to the care of Terence, who fastened them tightly
together with a cord, and then hung them by a loop, like a gun,
over his shoulder, in order that he might have his hands free.
It was still only eight o'clock--dangerously early for a surprise;
but the whole party were quite agreed to risk everything, as no one
could say in what position Ethel might be placed, and what
difference an hour might make. Their plan was to steal quietly up
to the first hut they found, to gag its inmates, and compel one of
them, under a threat of instant death, to guide them to the hut in
which Ethel was placed.
Suddenly Mr. Hardy was startled by a dark figure rising from a rock
against which he had almost stumbled, with the words: "White man
good. Tawaina friend. Come to take him to child."
Then followed a few hurried questions; and no words can express the
delight and gratitude of Mr. Hardy and his sons, and the intense
satisfaction of the others, on finding that Ethel was alive and for
the present free from danger.
It was agreed to wait now for two hours, to give time for the
Indians to retire to rest; and while they waited the Raven told
them all that had happened up to the arrival at the village,
passing over the last day's proceedings by saying briefly that
Ethel had run a great risk of being put to death, but that a delay
had been obtained by her friends. Having told his story, he said,
"Tawaina friend to great white chief. Gave signal with arrow; save
little White Bird to-day. But Tawaina Indian--not like see Indian
killed. White chief promise not kill Indian women and children?"
Mr. Hardy assured the Indian that they had no thought of killing
women and children.
"If can take little White Bird without waking village, not kill
men?" Tawaina asked again.
"We do not want to wake the village if we can help it, Tawaina; but
I do not see any chance of escaping without a fight. Our horses are
all dead beat, and the Indians will easily overtake us, even if we
get a night's start."
"Mustn't go out on plain," the Raven said earnestly. "If go out on
plain, all killed. Indian two hundred and fifty braves--eat up
white men on plain."
"I am afraid that is true enough, Tawaina, though we shall prove
very tough morsels. Still we should fight at a fearful disadvantage
in the open. But what are we to do?"
"Come back to mouth of canyon--hold that; can keep Indians off as
long as like. Indians have to make peace."
"Capital!" Mr. Hardy said delightedly; for he had reviewed the
position with great apprehension, as he had not seen how it would
be possible to make good their retreat on their tired horses in the
teeth of the Indians. "The very thing! As you say, we can hold the
gorge for a month if necessary, and sooner or later they will be
sick of it, and agree to let us retreat in quiet. Besides, a week's
rest would set our horses up again, and then we could make our
retreat in spite of them."
"One more thing," the Raven said. "When great chief got little
White Bird safe, Tawaina go away--not fight one way, not fight
other way. When meet again, white chief not talk about to-night.
Not great Indian know Tawaina white chief's friend."
"You can rely upon us all, Tawaina. They shall never learn from us
of your share in this affair. And now I think that it is time for
us to be moving forward. It will be past ten o'clock before we are
there."
Very quietly the troop crept along, Tawaina leading the way, until
he approached closely to the village. Here they halted for a
moment.
"Only six of us will go in," Mr. Hardy said; "there will be less
chance of detection--Jamieson, Percy, Herries, my boys, and myself.
The others take post close to the hut we see ahead. If you find
that we are discovered, be in readiness to support us. And,
Farquhar, two or three of you get matches ready, and stick a blue
light into the straw roof of the hut. We must have light, or we
lose all the advantage of our firearms. Besides, as we retreat we
shall be in darkness, while they will be in the glare."
Thus speaking, Mr. Hardy followed his guide, the men he had
selected treading cautiously in his rear. Presently they stopped
before one of the huts, and pointing to the door, Tawaina said,
"Little White Bird there;" and then gliding away, he was lost in
the darkness.
Mr. Hardy cautiously pushed aside the skin and entered, followed by
his friends. It was perfectly dark, and they stood for a moment
uncertain what to do. Then they heard a low voice saying, "Papa, is
that you?" while at the same instant they saw a gleam of light in
the other corner of the tent, and heard a rustling noise, and they
knew that an Indian had cut a slit in the hide walls and had
escaped; and as Mr. Hardy pressed his child to his heart, a
terrific war-whoop rose on the air behind the hut.
"Come," Mr. Hardy said, "keep together, and make a run of it."
Ethel had lain down without taking off even her shoes, so strong
had been her hope of her father's arrival. She was therefore no
impediment to the speed of their retreat. For a short distance they
were unopposed. The Indians, indeed, rushed from their huts like
swarms of bees disturbed by an intruder. Ignorant of the nature of
the danger, and unable to see its cause, all was for a minute wild
confusion; and then guided by the war-whoop of the Indian who had
given the alarm, all hurried toward the spot, and as they did so,
several saw the little party of whites. Loud whoops gave the
intimation of this discovery and a rush toward them was made.
"Now, your revolvers," Mr. Hardy said. "We are nearly out of the
village."
Not as yet, however, were the Indians gathered thickly enough to
stop them. A few who attempted to throw themselves in the way were
instantly shot down, and in less time than it has occupied to read
this description they reached the end of the village. As they did
so a bright flame shot up from the furthest hut, and the rest of
the party rushed out and joined them. The Indians in pursuit paused
at seeing this fresh accession of strength to their enemies, and
then, as they were joined by large numbers, and the flame shooting
up brightly enabled them to see how small was the body of whites,
they rushed forward again with fierce yells.
But the whites were by this time a hundred and fifty yards away,
and were already disappearing in the gloom.
"Stop!" Mr. Hardy cried. "Steady with your rifles! Each man single
out an Indian. Fire!"
A yell of rage broke from the Indians as fourteen or fifteen of
their number fell, and a momentary pause took place again. And
then, as they were again reinforced, they continued the pursuit.
But the two hundred yards which the whites had gained was a long
start in the half a mile's distance to be traversed, and the whites
well knew that they were running for their lives; for once
surrounded in the plain, their case was hopeless.
Well was it, then, that Ethel was so accustomed to an out-of-door
life. Hope and fear lent speed to her feet, and running between her
father and brothers, she was able to keep up a speed equal to their
own.
Scarce a word was spoken, as with clinched teeth and beating hearts
they dashed along. Only once Mr. Jamieson said, "Can Ethel keep
up?" and she gasped out "Yes."
The whites had this great advantage in the race, that they knew
that they had only half a mile in all to run, and therefore put out
their best speed; whereas, although a few of the Indians saw the
importance of overtaking the fugitives on the plain, the greater
portion believed that their prey was safe in their hands, and made
no great effort to close with them at once. The whites, too, had
the advantage of being accustomed to walking exercise, whereas the
Indians, almost living on horseback, are seldom in the habit of
using their feet. Consequently the whites reached the narrow mouth
of the gorge a full hundred and fifty yards ahead of the main body
of the pursuers, although a party of their fastest runners was not
more than half that distance in their rear.
There was a general ejaculation of thankfulness as the parties now
halted and turned to face the enemy.
It was now that the full advantage of Mr. Hardy's precaution of
firing the Indian hut had become manifest.
The fire had communicated to the next two or three dwellings, and a
broad flame rose up, against the glare of which the Indians stood
out distinctly, while the whites were posted in deep gloom.
"Now, boys," Mr. Hardy said, "pick off the first lot with your
carbines, while we load our rifles. Ethel, get behind that rock.
Take shelter all till the last moment. The arrows will soon be
among us."
Steadily as if firing at a mark the boys discharged their five
shots each; and as the enemy was not more than fifty yards off,
every shot told.
The rest of the leading band hesitated, and throwing themselves
down, waited until the others came up. There was a momentary pause,
then a volley of arrows and musket halls was discharged in the
direction of their hidden foe, and then, with a wild yell, the
whole mass charged.
Not till they were within thirty yards was there a return shot
fired; but as they entered the narrow gorge, the whites leaped to
their feet with a cheer, and poured in a volley from twenty-four
rifles.
The effect was terrible; and those in front who were unwounded
hesitated, but, pressed on from behind, they again rushed forward.
Then, as they closed, a desperate combat began.
The boys had hastily handed their carbines to Ethel to fit in the
spare chamber, and had taken their place by their father's side.
The gorge was so narrow that there was not room to stand abreast,
and by previous arrangement those who had no revolvers placed
themselves in front, clubbing their rifles, while those with
revolvers fired between them.
Mr. Percy, one of the Jamiesons, and Herries stood a pace or two in
the rear, with their revolvers in hand, as a reserve.
For a few minutes the contest was terrific. The rush of the Indians
partially broke the line, and the whirl of gleaming hatchets, the
heavy crash of the blows with the rifles, the sharp incessant
cracks of the revolvers, the yells of the Indians, the short shouts
of encouragement from the English, and the occasional Irish cry of
Terence, made up a total of confusion and noise which was
bewildering.
Scarce a shot of the whites was thrown away, and a heap of dead lay
across the pass.
Still the Indians pressed on.
The fight was more silent now, the cracks of the revolvers had
ceased, and the whites were fighting silently and desperately with
their rifles. They had not given way a foot, but the short panting
breath told that the tremendous exertion was telling, as they stood
in a line at short intervals, and their weapons rose and fell with
a force and might that the Indian hatchets could seldom stem or
avert.
Not bloodless on their part had the fight been up to this time.
Most of them had received gashes more or less severe, and Martinez
the Gaucho and Cook lay dead at their feet.
Charley and Hubert, upon emptying their revolvers, had fallen back
and taken their carbines, and now stood with the reserve upon a
flat rock a few paces in the rear, all burning with impatience to
take part in the strife.
At this moment they were joined by the two Gauchos who had been
left with the horses, but who now, hearing the firing, had arrived
to take part in the fray.
At last Mr. Hardy judged that the time had come, and shouted:
"Take aim into the middle of the mass, and fire as quick as you
can, then all charge together. Now!"
In less than half a minute the four barrels of the Gauchos' guns,
and the thirty shots from the revolvers, had been discharged into
the densely packed throng; then the seven men leaped from the rock,
and with a cheer the whites threw themselves upon the Indians,
already recoiling and panic-struck by the tremendous and deadly
fire.
The Indians in front, surprised and confused, were mown down by the
long rifles like grass before the mower, and those behind, after
one moment's hesitation, broke and fled; in another two minutes the
fight was over, and the Indians in full flight to their village.
After a few words of hearty congratulation the whites threw
themselves on the ground, panting and exhausted, after their
tremendous exertions.
Their first care, upon recovering a little, was to load their
revolvers; as for the rifles, there was not one, with the exception
of those of the three men who had formed the reserve, and the boys'
carbines, which were not disabled. The stocks were broken, the
hammers wrenched off, and the barrels twisted and bent.
The party now crowded round Ethel, with whom not a single word had
yet been exchanged since her rescue, and warm and hearty were the
congratulations and welcome bestowed upon her. There was then an
examination of wounds.
These had been many, and in some cases severe. Mr. Farquhar was
completely disabled by a deep wound in the shoulder. Mr. Percy had
received a fearful gash on the arm. Charley had one ear nearly cut
off, and the side of his face laid completely open with a sweeping
blow. Four others were seriously wounded, and six had less
important wounds. All, however, were too much elated with their
success to make anything but light of their hurts.
"You seem fated to have your beauty spoiled, Charley," Mr. Hardy
said, as he bandaged up his son's face. "A few more fights, and you
will be as seasoned with scars as any Chelsea pensioner."
Charley joined in the general laugh at his own expense.
"Yes, papa, if I go on like this, I shall certainly get rid of my
looking-glass."
"You have not lost the rockets, I hope, Terence?" Mr. Hardy asked.
"Sure and I've not, your honor. I put them down behind a big rock
before the little shindy began."
"We will fire them off," Mr. Hardy said. "They will heighten the
impression, and make the Indians more anxious to come to terms,
when they see that we can reach their village. We will not let them
off all at once; but as we have four of each sort, we will send off
a pair every half hour or so, as they may think, if we fire them
all at once and then stop, that we have no more left. We may as
well give them a few shots, too, with our carbines and the rifles
that remain serviceable. They will carry as far as half a mile if
we give them elevation enough, and it is well to impress them as
much as possible."
Mr. Hardy's suggestion was carried out. The first signal rocket
showed the village crowded with Indians, over whose heads the
cracked rocket slowly whizzed. The light of the next rocket did not
disclose a single person, and it was apparent that the place was
deserted. The third rocket happened to strike one of the roofs, and
exploding there, set the thatch on fire.
"Good!" Mr. Percy said. "We shall have them asking for terms
to-morrow."
Four of the unwounded men were now placed as a guard at the mouth
of the gorge, the others retiring further into it, so as to be
beyond the dead Indians, who lay there literally in piles.
The morning broke over the white men occupied in the burial of
their two fallen companions, and upon the Indians assembled at a
short distance beyond the village. The men sat upon the ground in
sullen despair; the women wailed and wrung their hands.
Now that it was day, they could see how terrible had been their
loss. Upward of sixty of their number were missing. The Stag had
fallen, as had several of the most valiant braves of the tribe.
Presently the Raven rose from the midst of the warriors. His
absence the preceding evening had not been noticed; and although
all knew that he had taken no part in the fight, this was
considered natural enough, when his advice to give up the captive
had been rejected.
"My brothers," he began, "the Great Spirit is very angry. He has
hidden his face from his children. Yesterday he blinded their eyes
and made them foolish; last night he made them as water before the
white men. Why were the ears of the chiefs closed to the words of
the Raven? If the Raven had set out with the little White Bird, the
great white chief would have been glad, and the hatchet would have
been buried in peace. But the chiefs would not hear the words of
the Raven. The Stag said, Kill! and the war chiefs shouted, Kill!
and where are they now? Their wigwams are empty, and their women
have none to bring in the deer for food. The Great Spirit is
angry."
The Raven then took his seat; but, as he anticipated, no one rose
to speak after him. The depression was too general; and the fact
that, had the Raven's advice been followed, the evils would have
been avoided, was too manifest for any one to attempt to utter a
word.
After a profound silence of some minutes' duration, the Raven again
rose.
"What will my brothers do? The flying fires will burn down our
village, and there is no retreat. The guns that shoot without
loading carry very far. We are as water before them. We are in the
hands of the white chief, and our bones will feed the crows. What
will my brothers do?"
There was still a profound silence, and then he continued: "The
Raven is a great chief, and he will tell them what to do. The Raven
has stood by the side of the little White Bird, and the great white
chief will listen to his voice. He will say, Let there be peace
between us. The men who would have harmed the Little White Bird are
dead; there is no more cause of quarrel. Let us bury the hatchet.
Take horses and cattle for your journey, and forgive us if we have
done wrong. If the white men were on the plains, the Raven would
say, Let my young men charge; but they hold the pass, and the guns
that shoot without loading are too strong. Have I spoken well?"
There was a low murmur of applause. The feeling that the position
of the white men was impregnable was general; and they all felt
convinced that those terrible enemies would devise some unknown
scheme which would end in the total annihilation of the tribe.
The Raven's proposition was therefore unanimously assented to.
The Raven then laid aside his arms, and attended by six of the
principal chiefs, carrying green boughs in token of amity, advanced
toward the mouth of the gorge. Mr. Hardy, with five of the whites,
and with Perez to interpret, advanced to meet him.
When the two groups met the Raven commenced gravely, in the Indian
language: "The white chief of the flying fire is mighty, and the
Great Spirit has blinded his children. They carried off the little
White Bird, but they did not harm her. Bad men would have harmed
her, but the Raven stood by her side. The great white chief has taken
back his little White Bird, and he has killed the men whom
the Great Spirit blinded. Why should there be any more war? The
Indians are brave; they have cattle, and sheep, and water. They can
live out of reach of the white chief's guns, and can fight if the
white chief comes out against them. The white chief is strong, and
he can defend the pass, but he cannot venture out to attack. They
are equal. There is no cause of quarrel any longer. Let us bury the
hatchet. The white chief's young men can take horses--for the
Indians have many--to take them back to their homes. They can take
cattle to eat. Let there be peace."
This address of the Raven was a very politic one. He already knew
that Mr. Hardy was willing to grant terms, but he wished to show
the other chiefs that he supported the honor of the tribe by
boasting of their power and resources, and by making the peace as
upon equal terms.
When the Gaucho had translated their proposal, Mr. Hardy spoke,
using the phraseology which would be most intelligible to the
Indians.
"The Raven is a great chief; he has spoken wisely. The little White
Bird has sung in the white chief's ear that the Raven stood by her
side when bad Indians would have hurt her. The bad Indians are
dead. The Great Spirit frowned upon them. The white chief has no
quarrel with the Raven and his friends. Let there be peace."
A general expression of satisfaction pervaded both parties when it
was known that peace was arranged; and one of each side hurrying
back with the news, the rest went into the village, where, sitting
down before the principal hut, the pipe of peace was solemnly
smoked.
The two parties then mingled amicably, mutually pleased at the
termination to the hostilities; and no one would have guessed that
a few hours before they had met in deadly strife. The Raven
courteously invited the whites to stop for a night at the village;
but the invitation was declined, as all were very anxious to return
home.
Some Indians were dispatched by the Raven, who had now naturally
assumed the position of chief of the tribe, to catch horses to take
the place of those which had broken down upon the journey. The
offer of cattle was declined, as they were confident that they
should be able to procure game. They took, however, as large a
supply of fresh meat as their horses could carry.
Mr. Hardy saw that the Raven wished to avoid any private
conversation with him. He therefore drew the boys aside, and made a
proposal to them, to which they cordially agreed.
As the horses were brought up, and the whole tribe assembled, he
advanced toward the Raven with one of the boys' carbines in his
hand.
"The Raven is a great chief," he said. "He has a great heart, and
stood by the side of the little White Bird. But he has not a good
rifle. The white chief gives him a rifle which will shoot many
times. Let him promise that he will never use it in fight against
the white men."
This gift the Raven received with great pleasure, and readily gave
the required promise, adding, on behalf of his tribe, that the
hatchet which was buried should never again be dug up against the
whites. An extra chamber and all the spare ammunition was given to
him, and a further supply promised when he chose to send for it;
instructions were also given to him in the use of the weapon, then
a solemn farewell was exchanged, and the party of whites turned
their faces toward home.