Not an hour of daylight now passes, scarce a minute, without Don Estevan
Villanueva or Robert Tresillian having the telescope to their eyes,
scanning the plain southward. For days this has been their practice, up
to that on which the red marauders are seen returning from their
murderous expedition.
And on the following morning at earliest dawn the two--Pedro Vicente
along with them--take their stand on an outward projection of the
_mesa_, which commands a view of the _llano_ all round its southern
side, at the same time overlooking the Coyotero camp.
They have not been long there when, under the first rays of the rising
sun, they see something sparkle which had never been observed by them
before, though in a place with which they are familiar--the same where
they first sighted the Cerro Perdido. Nor is the glancing object a
single one, for there are many shining points as stars in a
constellation. They are visible to the naked eye, for as yet none of
them have looked through the telescope. As Don Estevan is levelling it,
the _gambusino_ says:
"Looks like the glitter of arms and accoutrements. Pray the Virgin it
be that!"
"It _is_ that!" cries Don Estevan, at the first glance through the
glass. "Arms, and in the hands of men. I can make out a body of horse
in uniform--soldiers. Requenes and his regiment; he to a certainty. At
length--at last--we may hope to be rescued, and our long imprisonment
brought to an end."
His words, spoken excitedly and aloud, attract those who are sauntering
near, and soon most upon the _mesa_ come clustering round him. To see
with eyes unaided that metallic sheen, as they eagerly hearken to its
interpretation. Don Estevan, with the telescope still held aloft, goes
on speaking:
"Yes; 'tis they! I can see they carry lances, by the sun glinting on
the blades above their heads. They can be no other than the Zacatecas
regiment, with my brother-in-law at its head. Your son, Tresillian, is
safe; their being yonder tells of his having reached Arispe. Brave
youth! we all owe him our blessing."
"And we give him that, with our gratitude!" shouts Pedro Vicente, the
others enthusiastically echoing his words.
There is a momentary lull, all ears intently listening for what Don
Estevan may next say; which is:
"They appear to be extending line, and look as if there were a good six
or seven hundred. Ah! now I note there are others besides the lancers--
a battery of brass guns--that's what's flashing back the sun. And a
body of horsemen, not in uniform. They seem to be at halt. Why and for
what?"
"Like enough," suggests Tresillian, "they've made out our flag telling
them we are still here. Requenes, with others of his officers, will
have telescopes too, and must see it, as also that smoke over the camp
below. It will tell them our besiegers are there also. That would
cause them to halt--to concert measures for the attack."
"You're right, Don Roberto, it must be as you say. But now there's a
movement among them. The mass is breaking up into detachments, some
commencing to march to the right, others to the left. Ah! I see it
all: they mean making a surround, cutting off the retreat of our enemy.
_Caramba_! Requenes _is_ a cunning strategist, as I always believed
him."
With the glass still at his eye, the old soldier can see every movement
made, comprehending all, and explaining them in succession to the
audience around him. A party of lancers, seemingly a squadron,
separating from the main body, moves off to the right, another party of
like strength proceeding in the opposite direction. Then other
detachments follow these, as if to form an enfilading line when the time
comes for it. But the central force remains stationary long after the
flanking parties have been extended, and is only seen to advance when
they are far away. These make wide circuit, evidently designed to
embrace the Coyoteros' camp, and, if need be, the Cerro itself.
And now they draw nearer till all upon the _mesa_, without any
artificial aid, can see they are men, and as such surely friends
hastening to their rescue.
To their joy they also perceive that the occupants of the Indian camp
are as yet unaware of what is approaching. Five hundred feet below,
their view is more limited; and long before the soldiers become visible
to them, they above see the latter distinctly, and understand their
strategic scheme.
Meanwhile the savages are not acting in the ordinary way: signs of
commotion are observable among them, as if some change were intended.
Horses are being caught and caparisoned, while the newly acquired
animals from the Horcasitas are again loaded with the spoils, those that
carried the captives being also made ready for the road.
The women are themselves seen within the _corral_; as on the evening
before, looking forlorn, every one of them a picture of despair. They
are to be taken they know not whither, but to a place from which they
have no hope of return. Little dream they that friends are so near.
"What a pity we can't let them know of rescue being at hand!" says Don
Estevan. "They could hear us if we call to them, but some of the
Coyoteros are acquainted with our language, and it would warn them
also."
"No fear of that," affirms the _gambusino_; "I think I can speak a
tongue that the redskins won't understand, and the women will."
"What tongue?" asks Don Estevan.
"The Opata. Some of those girls are _mestizas_, and should know the
lingo of their mothers."
"Try them with it, then, Don Pedro."
"With your worship's leave, I will."
Saying which, the _gambusino_ advances to the outermost edge of the
cliff, and, with all the strength of his lungs, utters some words
altogether unintelligible to those around him, but evidently understood
by the captives below.
Several of them on hearing it spring suddenly to their feet, looking up
in the direction whence it came, surprised to see men above, hitherto
unobserved by them, and still more to hear speech addressed to
themselves. Hope and joy become mingled with their astonishment, when
the _gambusino_ goes on in the same vernacular to tell them how it is,
and that succour is near.
Though listening all the while, not one of the Apaches appears to
comprehend a word of what Vicente is saying. They suppose it a mere
expression of sympathy; and, without giving heed to it, proceed with
their preparations for departure. They are evidently bent upon this,
though it may be but the raiders about to continue on to their home in
Apacheria. Still, other signs seem to indicate a general clearing out
of the camp; for now the whole _caballada_ of horses are being brought
in saddled and bridled, while everything portable in the way of goods is
turned out within the _corral_, packed as if for transportation.
And in reality it is their intention to abandon both camp and siege,
though reluctantly, and hating to surrender a chance of revenge that had
seemed so sure and near. But they have had enough to content them for
the time, and there is a fear which forces them to forego it. Ever
since Henry Tresillian escaped them they have been nervously
apprehensive, correctly surmising him a messenger. He must long since
have reached Arispe, and may at any moment reappear, guiding back a
force sufficient to overwhelm them.
While yet unrecovered from their night's carousal, it is as the
fulfilment of a dream, their worst apprehensions realised, as they
behold coming towards them, though still far off, a body of men,
uniformed and in serried array, with pennoned lances borne aloft!
The sight is not so much a surprise, neither does it produce a panic;
for they who approach seem not in such numbers as to overawe them. The
detached parties sent around are not within their view, and with their
habitual contempt for the Mexican _soldados_, they make light of those
that are, imagining them under a mistake--advancing upon an enemy whose
strength they have underrated.
The error is their own; but, misled by it, they resolve to ride out,
meet the pale-faced foemen, and anticipate their attack. Their chief so
commands it.
Quick as thought every warrior is upon his horse, gun or spear in hand;
they, too, in military formation--line of battle--pressing forward to
the encounter, the sentries alone left on post.