In the great desert land of Apacheria there are Coyoteros and Coyoteros;
some, abject miserable creatures among the lowest forms of humanity;
others, men of fine port, courage, and strength--true Indian warriors.
Of these is the band of El Cascabel, noted for its frequent hostile
expeditions to the settlements of Sonora, as that on which it was bent
when brought up by the Lost Mountain. So unexpectedly deprived of its
chief, will it continue on that expedition? or lay siege to the party of
travelling miners as he intended doing? A question asked the miners
themselves of one another, but not after witnessing the scalp-dance.
Then knew they for sure that the siege was to be carried out. As
further evidence of it, that very afternoon the mules and horses of the
caravan are collected into droves, tied head to tail, and conducted away
from the ground altogether by a number of Indians placed in charge of
them--evidently that there should not be too many mouths on the pastures
around the camp, which, though good, are but of limited extent. Only
some of the inferior animals, with the beeves, are allowed to remain as
provision for the besiegers.
The miners above have meanwhile been busy getting matters regulated in
their new camp, or bivouac, soon as convinced that the enemy did not
intend assault. All repair thither, only a limited number of videttes
keeping post by the gorge. Around the _ojo de agua_ is witnessed a
scene of curious interest. To the two tents set up on the day before
are being added sheds and arbour-like huts, with such haste that ere
night all are completed, for the cloud of the night before, portending
rain, still covers the western sky, though not a drop has yet fallen.
Just as the last of daylight glimmers over the plain a very drown and
downpour, as if to make up for its long absence. The sky is all clouded
now, but with clouds at short intervals riven by forking spears of
lightning, while the accompanying thunder is almost continuous.
Under the yellow light the lake glistens as if it was molten gold, while
the rebound upwards from the heavy drops shows something like a golden
spray hanging all over it. On beyond the out-going stream, late but a
tiny rivulet, has changed to a foaming torrent, madly breaking its way
across the plain; while the in-going rill from the _messas_ summit has
become a series of cascades and cataracts.
The Indians, fearing a stampede by their horses, draw them in from their
picket-pins, hobble, and make them fast round the wheels of the wagons,
but they are still more solicitous about the fine _caballada_ captured
and sent away; for nearly every one of these, with all the mules, has a
pack saddle on its back with the distributed dry goods, and other
desirable articles not taken up the _messa_. In short, if that pack
drove be lost, they may not have much to reward them for the season's
raid. They might have sent the wagons along, but aware of the use to
which these are often put by the palefaces, as sleeping-tents, are
noting the approach of the storm, and determine to utilise them in
similar fashion. That night at least they would need them, and it might
be many more.
So, as the rain falls, lightning flashes, and thunder rolls, there is a
close-packed crowd under the tilt of each, with the big tent full to its
entrance-flap; and still there is not space enough to shield all from
that torrent of the sky, a large number retreating under ledges of the
cliffs that overhang near by.
The miners are all under shelter; they, too, sure of the approaching
storm, having worked hard during the later hours of the day. The
_messa_ gave them material for wall and roof. Posts from the indigenous
trees with scantling poles cut from saplings of many kinds, and a thatch
of _cycas_ and other grasslike plants, which abounded on the summit.
Men accustomed as they to handling ropes and gearing, were not long in
running up a house sufficient for shelter, and now every such domicile
is filled to its door-jambs; men, women, and children mingled together,
some standing, some seated on the bundles of goods that, but for their
being inside, would have been lost. They had thought of that too.
Up to a certain hour the people of quality are all inside one tent,
which shows bright from a light burning inside it: their conversation
is, of course, about the circumstances which surround them. Who, then,
could talk of any other? Don Estevan believes that the killing of the
Rattlesnake may be a disadvantage to them rather than otherwise, making
the vengeance of his followers more implacable than at least it should
do. But he has yet another reason for so believing. In his own
military expeditions he had become acquainted with El Cascabel's second
in command, a sub-chief, equalling the others in hostility to the
whites, while far excelling him in ability.
But it is too soon yet to discuss such chances. Rest was the one thing
needed; and at the usual hour for retiring, all, save those detailed for
picket-guard, seek repose.
Just as on the previous night the less experienced stand the first
watches of the night, keeping the rain off with waterproof _serapes_;
only at intervals need they look down, and then, unlike as on the night
before, everything is seen as under a meridian sun, for it is while the
lightning gleams they make their intermittent examination of the gorge
path, cascading stream, trees, and rocks illuminated by it as by a
thousand torches; only towards morning do their blazes become less
frequent, gradually dying out as the rain ceases to fall. Henry
Tresillian is again on watch duty, having insisted upon it,
notwithstanding the opposition made by the others of his party. But he
has a reason they do not understand--indeed, he has not communicated it
to them; during the earlier hours of the night he fancied having
observed a dark object far off on the plain, seemingly in the shape of a
horse; but returning several times to look, afterwards he could not see
it again. Now, on the post midnight watch, at each blaze he runs his
eye around the spot where he fancied the dark object to have been, only
in the very last one to see it again, and make sure it was a horse; but
his ears tell him more than his eyes, for in the dark spell succeeding
the silence of the elements restored he several times hears a neigh,
which he recognises as that of his own horse, Crusader.
And when the day at length dawns he sees the noble animal itself only a
short distance beyond the lower end of the lake, with head upraised and
muzzle pointed up the gorge, as though in a morning salute to himself,