"Son! that's the Lost Mountain, is it?"
"It is, Colonel."
"_Gracias a Dios_! Glad we've sighted it at last. How far do you think
we're from it, senorito? Nigh twenty miles, I take it; though it looks
nearer."
"'Tis all of twenty miles, Colonel; so our guide said when we first saw
it from the place."
"I can quite believe it. On these high plains distances are very
deceptive; but my experience enables me to judge pretty correctly."
The dialogue is between Colonel Requenes and Henry Tresillian; the
latter acting as guide to the expedition _en route_ to release those
imprisoned on the Cerro Perdido. Others are beside them; Don Juliano
with his son, the young aide-de-camp, and several officers of the staff;
their escort forming an advanced guard. Not far behind it, the howitzer
battery, followed by the lancer regiment in open order; then Romero's
irregulars, closed by a troop of lancers as rear-guard, completing the
marching column.
All are at halt, brought to it as soon as the Cerro was sighted. They
have been on march from an early hour by moonlight, and as the sun, now
rising, has lit up the plain afar, the solitary eminence can be clearly
seen. As may be deduced from the young Englishman's words, the point
they have arrived at is the same where the caravan had temporarily come
to a stop--the very spot itself; for close by is the tree bearing the
initials of the _gambusino_.
"Well, _caballeros_," continues the Colonel, "we've done our best so
far; pray God to good purpose. Let us hope we're in time. I wonder how
it is? What's your thought, Romero?"
"I have none, Requenes--only hopes that they've held out."
"I wish," pursues the Colonel, in half soliloquy, "we but knew for
certain; 'twould make an important difference as to how I dispose of my
force. Should they be still there--"
"Senor Colonel," interposes the youthful guide, "if you'll let me have a
look through your telescope, I think I can settle that point."
This, as he sees the commanding officer drawing his field-glass from its
case.
"In welcome, senorito. Here!" and he hands him the telescope.
Instantly it is brought to his eye, and eagerly--his fingers trembling
as they hold it out. What he hopes to see will tell him that his father
and friends still live; if he sees it not, he will know they are dead;
and _she_, dearer than all, condemned to a fate far worse!
What a change comes over his countenance almost on the instant of his
raising the glass to his eye! Hitherto grave to apprehension, all at
once it lights joyously up, as from his lips proceed the words, "They're
still on the mountain; Heaven be praised!"
"If it be so, Heaven deserves praise--all our thanks. But how know you,
senorito?"
"By the flag!"
"What flag?"
"Take the glass, Colonel; look for yourself."
Receiving back the telescope, and adjusting it to his sight, Requenes
levels it at the Lost Mountain.
"At the nearest end, up on the summit," pursues Henry Tresillian,
instructingly, "you'll see it. It is the flag of Mexico. Don Estevan
intended to have raised it over his new mine, and had it hoisted yonder
in the hope it might be seen by some white men, and lead to our
situation being made known. It has proved of service now; telling us
our friends are still in the land of the living. If they were not it
wouldn't be there."
"You're right, senorito, it wouldn't. And it is there--I see it!--yes,
can even make out the national insignia--the eagle and nopal. We may
thank Heaven, indeed."
"And we do!" exclaims the _ganadero_, raising his hat reverentially, all
following his example.
A thrill of exultation runs like wildfire backward on to the extremest
rear--a joyous excitement, as the soldiers learn they have not made
their long march in vain, and that the foe is before them, not far oft.
For the banner waving above proclaims the siege still continued, and the
Indians keeping it up.
"They _are_ there," affirms the Colonel, after gazing some time through
his glass. "I can see the smoke ascending from their camp fires. No
doubt by this they'll be cooking their breakfasts. Well, we won't be in
time to hinder their having that meal; but if they eat dinner this day,
without my leave, I shall be willing to throw up my commission as
colonel of the Zacatecas Lancers. Now, gentlemen!" he adds, turning to
his staff, and summoning his chief officers around him in council of
war, "the enemy is yonder; no doubt of it. 'Tis a question as to how we
should advance upon him. Give your opinion, Major Garcia."
"How many are there supposed to be, Colonel?" asks the major, a sage,
grizzled veteran. "Our mode of approaching them should much depend upon
that."
"Unluckily I can't tell," says the Commander-in-chief; "there were
wellnigh five hundred all told when together; but it appears that half
went off on a raid down the Horcasitas, the other half remaining to
carry on the siege. If the raiders are returned and are now among the
besiegers, then we'll have their full force to deal with, and may expect
a sharp fight for it. I know these redskins of old, the band of the
Rattlesnake; though, as our young friend informs me, that worthy has
ceased to exist, and the Vulture reigns in his stead. All the worse for
us, as Zopilote was the master of Cascabel in tactics, cunning,
courage--everything. Never mind, we should only be too glad to meet the
renowned warrior, if but for glory's sake."
While the Colonel is still speaking a voice is heard to rearward, with
exclamations telling of excitement there. Immediately after a subaltern
officer of the rear-guard advances rapidly to the front, conducting a
strange horseman, whose dress, travel-stained, with the sweat and dust
upon his horse, betokens him just arrived from a journey long and
hurriedly made. A messenger on some errand, which his wan, woebegone
face bespeaks to be of the saddest.
"Whence come you, _amigo_?" demands the commanding officer, as the
stranger is brought face to face with him.
"From Nacomori, on the Horcasitas, Senor Colonel," is the answer.
"On what business?" asks Requenes, more than half divining it.
"Oh, senor, the Indians have been there; killed scores of our people--
children as grown men; plundered and burnt our houses; carried off all
our young women; made rack and ruin of everything. I rode to Arispe,
hoping to find you there, but you were gone, and I've hastened hither
after you."
"What Indians? Where did they come from?"
"From the north, senor; down the river. Apaches, we thought; but it was
in the night they came upon us, and no one could be sure. When morning
came they had gone off with everything."
"What night? How long since this occurred?"
"The night of _Lunes_--just four days ago."
"The raiding party of the Coyoteros, gentlemen," says the Colonel to his
surrounding. "The time corresponds, the place--everything; and likely
they've got back, and are now by the Cerro yonder. If so, we have
others to rescue beside our own friends; with chastisement to inflict on
the red-handed marauders, to say nothing of revenge. So much the more
reason for our not losing time. Major! order the regiment to close up
and form line. Let the others be drawn in also; I want to say a word to
them."
With a quickness due to thorough discipline, the lancers are brought
into battle line; not for fight now, but to receive an address. Thrown
forward on one flank, and facing inwards, are the light artillerists;
while on the other in file form are Romero's irregulars.
Placing himself in a position to be heard by all, the Commander-in-chief
cries out:
"_Camarados_! at the base of yonder hill, where you see smoke rising, is
the enemy. Apaches--Coyoteros--as we know, knowing them also to be the
cruellest of all the savages that infest our frontier. To say nothing
of the glory gained in conquering them, 'twill be doing humanity a
service to destroy them; and never more than now has there been reason.
"This gentleman,"--he points to the newly-arrived messenger, still on
horseback and near by--"has brought news of a bloodthirsty massacre they
have just committed at Nacomori, on the Horcasitas, where women, scores,
have been carried off. Like enough they're all over yonder now, and we
may be in time to release these prisoners, and avenge the murders that
have been done. The only fear is of the Indians getting away from us.
Mounted on their swift mustangs, and leaving all encumbrances behind,
that is still possible enough. But to prevent it, I intend dividing my
force, and sending detachments around to intercept and cut off their
retreat on every route they may take. We must deal them a death-blow,
and I now call on you--every man to do his best. Remember how many of
our people, perhaps many of your own relatives, have fallen victims to
the ferocity of these ruthless marauders. Think of the crime we have
just heard of at Nacomori. Think of it, _camarados_, and strike home!"
An enthusiastic cheer hails the Colonel's speech; and while it is still
ringing commands are issued for the disposition of the advance--the
movement soon after commencing.