As is their custom, the savages advance with loud cries and gestures of
menace, intended to terrify their antagonists.
They have got several miles out from the mountain, and almost within
charging distance, when they see that which brings them to sudden halt--
a thing above all others dreaded by the American aboriginal--cannon
"thunder guns"--as they call them. The brass howitzers, hitherto
screened by the vanguard of cavalry, have been thrown to the front,
instantly unlimbered, and so brought under their eyes. Then a flash, a
vomiting of flame and smoke, a loud ringing report, followed by the
hurtling of a shell in its flight through the air. It drops in their
midst and instantly explodes, its severed fragments dealing death
around.
Too much this for Coyotero courage; and without waiting for other like
destructive missiles to follow, they turn tail and gallop back towards
the camp. Not that they have any hope of safety there, for they believe
the great thunder guns can reach them anywhere, and their flight towards
it is but the impulse of a confused fear.
The sentries, seeing them in retreat, alike frightened by the report of
the howitzers, forsake their posts, each hastening towards a horse--his
own.
For a time the captive women are unguarded, seemingly forgotten. It
gives the _gambusino_ a cue; and, acting upon it, he again calls out as
before in the Opata tongue,
"Sisters! now's your time! Up and out of the _corral_; make round to
the lake, fast as you can run, and on into the ravine. There you'll
find friends to meet you."
Listening to his counsel, as one the captive women resolve to act upon
it; for they are now cognisant of what is going on, and fully comprehend
the situation.
The result, a rush out of the enclosure all together, and a race round
to the spot indicated by that friendly voice above.
They reach it, to find there the man himself, with over two-score others
around him. For the _gambusino_, seeing how things stood, and that the
besiegers had their hands full elsewhere, has hurried down the gorge,
all the fighting men of the miners' party along with him.
It is but a moment to place the escaped captives behind the rocks
standing thick all around; then, screening themselves by the same, they
await the coming of the savages. But these come not; enough have they
to do looking out for their own safety. The howitzers, now near, are
belching forth their bombs, that burst here and there, dealing death in
their ranks.
With the redskins it is no longer a question of resistance or fight, but
flight, _sauve qui peut_. And without thought of taking along with them
either spoils or captives, they deem it enough if they can but save
their own lives.
They are all on horseback now, their chief at their head, who in loud
command calls upon them to follow him--not to the charge, but in
retreat.
First they flee northward; but short is their ride in that direction.
Scarce have they commenced it, when they see in front of them a body of
horse, seemingly numerous as that they are retreating from.
Shall they meet it, or turn back? The thunder guns are still more than
a mile from the abandoned camp, and they will have time to repass it.
Promptly deciding to do so, they wheel round and gallop back, _ventre a
terre_; not slowing pace nor drawing rein till they have reached the
western elbow of the lake. Then only coming to a stop perforce at sight
of still another party of palefaces there to confront them.
Intercepted, threatened on every side by a far superior force, they now
know themselves in a trap. Panic stricken, they would surrender and cry
for quarter, but well are they aware it would not be given. So, as
wolves brought to bay, they at length determine on fighting--to the
death.
For many of them, death it is. Beset on all sides, in the midst of a
circle of fire, bombs exploding and bullets raining through their ranks,
they make but a despairing resistance; which ends in half their number
being killed and the other half taken prisoner.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rescuers are now in possession of the camp, animals, everything.
But the first to reach the bottom of the ravine is he who has guided
them thither, Henry Tresillian; there to receive a shower of thanks and
blessings, his father pressing him to his bosom, which alike beats with
joy and pride. And the _gambusino_ embraces him, too, crying out,
"I see you've brought back my saddle, senorito; and after the service it
has done, I hope you'll never consent to part with it. Bridle and
saddle both, I make you a present of them; which I trust you'll do me
the honour to accept."
This draws the attention of all upon Crusader standing by, who in turn
becomes the recipient of an ovation.
But his young master stays not to witness it. Up on the summit is one
who occupies all his thoughts, claiming him now; and up bounds he with
lighter heart than he ever before made that ascent.
"Henrique!"
"Gertrudes!" are the exchanged exclamations of the youthful lovers, as
they become locked in each other's arms, their lips meeting in a kiss of
rapturous joy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
All congratulations over, the corralled wagons are once more in
possession of their owners. Scarce any damage has been done to the
mining machinery or tools; the Indians, from neglect or ignorance of
their uses, not having thought it worth while to destroy them. And for
the animals and chattels they had carried off, there is ample
compensation in those now taken from them--enough to furnish the wagons
with fresh teams, re-establish the pack-train, in short, put the caravan
in order for resuming the march. Which it does, after a couple of days
spent in getting things into condition for the route, when it continues
on to its original destination, the _gambusino_ still with it as guide.
On the same day Requenes starts out on return to Arispe, taking the
Coyotero prisoners along with him; while Don Juliano and his valiant
_vaqueros_ charge themselves with the task of restoring the women of
Nacomori to their homes.
When all are gone, and the Lost Mountain again left to tranquillity and
solitude, it is for days the scene of a spectacle telling of the
terrible strife which had occurred. The wolves and coyotes have
gathered from afar, and over the bodies of the slain savages left
unburied, with those of their horses killed in the encounter, hold riot
and revel.
There, too, are the black vultures, some in the air, some on the ground,
in flocks so thick as to darken both earth and sky. They anticipated a
plenteous repast--they have not been disappointed.