Hastily--perhaps too truly--construing the sinister evidence, the
half-frantic father leaped into the bloody saddle, and galloped direct
for the Fort.
Calhoun, upon his own horse, followed close after.
The hue and cry soon spread abroad. Rapid riders carried it up and down
the river, to the remotest plantations of the settlement.
The Indians were out, and near at hand, reaping their harvest of scalps!
That of young Poindexter was the firstfruits of their sanguinary
gleaning!
Henry Poindexter--the noble generous youth who had not an enemy in all
Texas! Who but Indians could have spilled such innocent blood? Only
the Comanches could have been so cruel?
Among the horsemen, who came quickly together on the parade ground of
Port Inge, no one doubted that the Comanches had done the deed. It was
simply a question of how, when, and where.
The blood drops pretty clearly, proclaimed the first. He who had shed
them must have been shot, or speared, while sitting in his saddle. They
were mostly on the off side; where they presented an appearance, as if
something had been slaked over them. This was seen both on the
shoulders of the horse, and the flap of the saddle. Of course it was
the body of the rider as it slipped lifeless to the earth.
There were some who spoke with equal certainty as to the time--old
frontiersmen experienced in such matters.
According to them the blood was scarce "ten hours old:" in other words,
must have been shed about ten hours before.
It was now noon. The murder must have been committed at _two_ o'clock
in the morning.
The third query was, perhaps, the most important--at least now that the
deed was done.
_Where_ had it been done? Where was the body to be found?
After that, where should the assassins be sought for?
These were the questions discussed by the mixed council of settlers and
soldiers, hastily assembled at Port Inge, and presided over by the
commandant of the Fort--the afflicted father standing speechless by his
side.
The last was of special importance. There are thirty-two points in the
compass of the prairies, as well as in that which guides the ocean
wanderer; and, therefore, in any expedition going in search of a
war-party of Comanches, there would be thirty-two chances to one against
its taking the right track.
It mattered not that the home of these nomadic savages was in the west.
That was a wide word; and signified anywhere within a semicircle of some
hundreds of miles.
Besides, the Indians were now upon the _war-trail_; and, in an isolated
settlement such as that of the Leona, as likely to make their appearance
from the east. More likely, indeed, since such is a common strategic
trick of these astute warriors.
To have ridden forth at random would have been sheer folly; with such
odds against going the right way, as thirty-two to one.
A proposal to separate the command into several parties, and proceed in
different directions, met with little favour from any one. It was
directly negatived by the major himself.
The murderers might be a thousand, the avengers were but the tenth of
that number: consisting of some fifty dragoons who chanced to be in
garrison, with about as many mounted civilians. The party must be kept
together, or run the risk of being attacked, and perhaps cut off, in
detail!
The argument was deemed conclusive. Even, the bereaved father--and
cousin, who appeared equally the victim of a voiceless grief--consented
to shape their course according to the counsels of the more prudent
majority, backed by the authority of the major himself.
It was decided that the searchers should proceed in a body.
In what direction? This still remained the subject of discussion.
The thoughtful captain of infantry now became a conspicuous figure, by
suggesting that some inquiry should be made, as to what direction had
been last taken by the man who was supposed to be murdered. Who last
saw Henry Poindexter?
His father and cousin were first appealed to.
The former had last seen his son at the supper table; and supposed him
to have gone thence to his bed.
The answer of Calhoun was less direct, and, perhaps, less satisfactory.
He had conversed with his cousin at a later hour, and had bidden him
good night, under the impression that he was retiring to his room.
Why was Calhoun concealing what had really occurred? Why did he refrain
from giving a narration of that garden scene to which he had been
witness?
Was it, that he feared humiliation by disclosing the part he had himself
played?
Whatever was the reason, the truth was shunned; and an answer given, the
sincerity of which was suspected by more than one who listened to it.
The evasiveness might have been more apparent, had there been any reason
for suspicion, or had the bystanders been allowed longer time to reflect
upon it.
While the inquiry was going on, light came in from a quartet hitherto
unthought of. The landlord of the Rough and Ready, who had come
uncalled to the council, after forcing his way through the crowd,
proclaimed himself willing to communicate some facts worth their
hearing--in short, the very facts they were endeavouring to find out:
when Henry Poindexter had been last seen, and what the direction he had
taken.
Oberdoffer's testimony, delivered in a semi-Teutonic tongue, was to the
effect: that Maurice the mustanger--who had been staying at his hotel
ever since his fight with Captain Calhoun--had that night ridden out at
a late hour, as he had done for several nights before.
He had returned to the hotel at a still later hour; and finding it
open--on account of a party of _bons vivants_ who had supped there--had
done that which he had not done for a long time before--demanded his
bill, and to Old Duffer's astonishment--as the latter naively
confessed--settled every cent of it!
Where he had procured the money "Gott" only knew, or why he left the
hotel in such a hurry. Oberdoffer himself only knew that he had left
it, and taken all his `trapsh' along with him--just as he was in the
habit of doing, whenever he went off upon one of his horse-catching
expeditions.
On one of these the village Boniface supposed him to have gone.
What had all this to do with the question before the council? Much
indeed; though it did not appear till the last moment of his
examination, when the witness revealed the more pertinent facts:--that
about twenty minutes after the mustanger had taken his departure from
the hotel, "Heinrich Poindexter" knocked at the door, and inquired after
Mr Maurice Gerald;--that on being told the latter was gone, as also the
time, and probable direction he had taken, the "young gentlemans" rode
off a a quick pace, as if with the intention of overtaking him.
This was all Mr Oberdoffer knew of the matter; and all he could be
expected to tell.
The intelligence, though containing several points but ill understood,
was nevertheless a guide to the expeditionary party. It furnished a
sort of clue to the direction they ought to take. If the missing man
had gone off with Maurice the mustanger, or after him, he should be
looked for on the road the latter himself would be likely to have taken.
Did any one know where the horse-hunter had his home?
No one could state the exact locality; though there were several who
believed it was somewhere among the head-waters of the Nueces, on a
creek called the "Alamo."
To the Alamo, then, did they determine upon proceeding in quest of the
missing man, or his dead body--perhaps, also, to find that of Maurice
the mustanger; and, at the same time, avenge upon the savage assassins
two murders instead of one.