The moving miners are not the only travellers making for the Cerro
Perdido on this same day. Just as they have sighted it, approaching
from the south, another party is advancing towards it from the north,
though not yet within view of it, from being farther off, with a swell
of the plain interposed.
Very different in appearance, and, indeed, almost in every respect, is
this second band from that already introduced to the reader; in count of
men outnumbering the latter by more than treble, though in bulk as a
moving mass far inferior to it. For with it are no wagons, nor wheeled
vehicles of any kind; no mule train nor cattle drove. Neither are they
encumbered with women and children, least of all a _litera_ and ladies.
All men, and every one of them on horseback, each bearer of his own
baggage, as well he may be, so little and light it is. Their sole
_impedimenta_ consist of a few trifling commodities, chiefly provision
wallets, with water gourds (_xuages_) strapped over their shoulders or
tied to the wither-locks of their horses. Equally unobstructive is
their garb, few of them having other articles of dress than a
breech-clout, leggings, and moccasins, with a rolled-up blanket or
_serape_ in reserve. The exceptions are some half-dozen, who appear to
exercise authority, one especially holding command over all.
His insignia are peculiar; a coat of arms that would puzzle all the
heraldic colleges of Christendom. Nor does he wear it on his shield,
though one he carries. It is borne on his naked breast of bronze black,
in a tattooing of vivid red; the device, a rattlesnake coiled and
couchant, with tail and head erect, jaws wide agape, and forked tongue
protruding ready to strike. Beneath are other symbols equally eloquent
of anger and menace; one in white, set centrally, well known all over
the world--the "death's head and crossbones."
It need hardly be said that he, embellished with this savage
investiture, is an Indian, and his following the same. Indians they
are, of a tribe noted for bloodthirstiness beyond all others of their
race; for they are the Wolf-Apaches, or Coyoteros, so called because of
mental and moral attributes which liken them to the _coyote_--jackal of
the Western world.
Unaccompanied by their women and children, as unencumbered with baggage,
proclaims them on a warlike expedition--a _maraud_; their arms and
equipments telling of the same. They carry guns, and long-shafted
lances with pennons attached, that no doubt once waved above the heads
of Mexican _lanzeros_. Pistols too, some even having revolvers, with
rifles of latest pattern and patent; of which by their way of handling
them they well know the use. If civilisation has taught them nothing
else, it has how to _kill_.
They are marching along, not in ruck, or straggling crowd, but regular
formation, aligned in rank and file, "by twos." Long since have the
Horse Indians of both prairie and pampa learnt the military tactics of
their pale-faced foes--those special to cavalry--and practise them. But
nowhere with more ability and success than in the northern states of
Mexico--Tamaulipas, Chihuahua, and Sonora--where Comanches, Navajoes,
and Apaches have charged in battle line, breaking that of their white
adversaries, and scattering them as chaff. "Indian file," oft used as a
synonym for "single file," is a march formation long since abandoned by
these Transatlantic Centaurs, save where the nature of the ground makes
it a necessity.
None such exists on the open _llano_, where this Apache band is now; and
they might move in a column or extended line, if willing it; but
numbering scant two hundred, they prefer the double file. Unlike the
miners, in their three days' traverse of a waterless desert, they have
been making way through a district with which they are familiar;
acquainted with all the camping-places--every stream, spring, and pond--
so they have not suffered from want of water. Nor are they likely now,
since their course lies along the banks of a creek--a tiny rivulet, yet
running, despite the continued drought. It is a branch of the Rio San
Miguel of the maps--locally known as the Horcasitas--and they are
descending it southward, thirst having no terrors for them.
Just as the sun is about to set they catch sight of the Cerro Perdido.
To them it is not known by that name, but _Nauchampa-tepetl_. Somewhat
strange this, pointing to an affinity known to exist between the Indians
of Northern Mexico and the Aztecans of the South. In the language of
these last the mountain Perote bears the same designation, the "Cofre"
usually attached being synonymous with "Nauchampa," both signifying
chest, or box. For the Cerro Perdido, viewed from certain points, bears
a quaint resemblance to this, as does also the summit of Perote.
Neither philology nor ethnography is in the minds of this band of
redskins; their thoughts are dwelling on a subject altogether
different--robbery and murder. For they _are_ on the maraud; their
objective point the towns on the Horcasitas.
Just now, however, as they sight the Cerro, another question occupies
them: whether it be prudent or possible to continue on to it without
halting for the night. Some say Yes, but most No. It is still good
twenty miles off, though appearing scarce ten. In the diaphanous
atmosphere of the Sonora tableland distances are deceptive, as Pedro
Vicente has said. But the native inhabitants, above all the aborigines,
are aware of this, and reckon accordingly. Besides, the Coyoteros, like
the _gambusino_, have been over the ground before, and are familiar with
every foot of it. So distance has nought to do with their discussion,
save as it affects the capability of their horses. Since morning they
have made fifty miles, and are fagged; twenty more would be killing work
for them. And the twenty to Nauchampa-tepetl will be a nice distance to
their next day's noon halt.
The question of continuing on is at length decided in the negative, by
him of the grotesque heraldry dropping down from his horse, and
proceeding to picket the animal on the grass. As his example has the
force of a command, all the others follow it, and camp is quickly
formed. A simple affair this; only the tethering out of their steeds,
and stripping them of such caparison as they carry. Then follows a
search for dry faggots, and the kindling of a fire; not for warmth, but
cooking. There is a bit of butchering to precede; these redskinned
rovers having their commissariat on the hoof--this in the shape of some
spare horses driven along _en caballada_. A knife drawn across the
throat of one lets his blood out in a torrent, and he drops down dead,--
to be skinned and cut up in a trice, the pieces impaled upon sticks and
held over the blaze of the fire.
But the hippophagists avail themselves of other comestibles of a
vegetable kind; seeds from the cones of the _pinon_, or edible pine, and
beans of the _algarobia_--trees of both sorts growing near. Enough of
both are collected and roasted, to form an accompaniment to the
horseflesh.
Fruit they find too on several species of cactus; the best of them on
the _pitahaya_, whose tall rigid stems, with limbs like the branches of
a candelabrum, tower up around their camp. So, in the desert--for it is
such--they are enabled to end their dinner with dessert. To provide
something for breakfast besides, a viand rare and strange, but familiar
to them, a branch of their tribe--the "Mezcaleros"--making it their
staple food, even to deriving their tribal appellation from it. For it
is the mezcal plant, one of the wild species of magueys (_Agave
Mexicana_). The central core, from which radiate the stiff spinous
blades, is the part eaten, and the mode of preparing it is now made
manifest in the Coyotero camp. Several plants are torn out by the
roots, their leaves hacked off, and the skin of the core itself cut
away--leaving an egg-shaped mass of white vegetable substance, large as
a man's head, or a monster mangold-wurzel. Meanwhile, a hole has been
"crowed" in the ground, pit-shaped, its sides fended by flat stones,
with a like pavement at the bottom. Into this red coals are flung, nigh
enough to fill it; an interval allowed for these to smoulder into ashes,
and the stones become burning hot. The mezcals, already wrapped up in
the horse's skin late stripped off, red side inward, along with some
loose pieces of the flesh, and the bundle is lowered down into the
improvised oven, then all covered over with a coat of turf. Thus buried
it is left to bake all night, and in the morning will afford them a meal
Lucullus need not have disdained to partake of.
The Coyoteros, well sure of this, go to sleep contentedly and without
care; each rolled-up in his own wrap, his couch the naked earth,
canopied by a star-bespangled sky.
In that uninhabited and pathless wilderness, or with paths only known to
themselves, they have little fear of encountering an enemy; and as
little dream they that within less than two hours' gallop of their
camping-ground is another camp occupied by the foes of their race, too
few to resist their attack. Knew they but this, there would be a quick
uprising among them, a hasty springing to horse, and hurried ride
towards Nauchampa-tepetl.