While these tragic incidents are occurring on Coyote Creek and the plain
between, others almost as exciting but of less sanguinary character,
take place in the valley of the San Saba.
As the morning sun lights up the ancient Mission-house, its walls still
reverberate wailing cries, mingled with notes of preparation for the
pursuit. Then follows a forenoon of painful suspense, _no_ word yet
from the scouters sent out.
Colonel Armstrong, and the principal men of the settlement, have
ascended to the _azotea_ to obtain a better view; and there remain
gazing down the valley in feverish impatience. Just as the sun reaches
meridian their wistful glances are rewarded; but by a sight which little
relieves their anxiety; on the contrary, increasing it.
A horseman emerging from the timber, which skirts the river's bank,
comes on towards the Mission-building. He is alone, and riding at top
speed--both circumstances having sinister significance. Has the
scouting party been cut off, and he only escaped to tell the tale? Is
it Dupre, Hawkins, or who? He is yet too far off to be identified.
As he draws nearer, Colonel Armstrong through a telescope makes him out
to be Cris Tucker.
Why should the young hunter be coming back alone?
After a mutual interchange of questions and conjectures, they leave off
talking, and silently stand, breathlessly, awaiting his arrival.
Soon as he is within hailing distance, several unable to restrain
themselves, call out, inquiring the news.
"Not bad, gentlemen! Rayther good than otherways," shouts back Oris.
His response lifts a load from their hearts, and in calmer mood they
await further information. In a short time the scout presents himself
before Colonel Armstrong, around whom the others cluster, all alike
eager to hear the report. For they are still under anxiety about the
character of the despoilers, having as yet no reason to think them other
than Indians. Nor does Tucker's account contradict this idea; though
one thing he has to tell begets a suspicion to the contrary.
Rapidly and briefly as possible the young hunter gives details of what
has happened to Dupre's party, up to the time of his separating from it;
first making their minds easy by assuring them it was then safe.
They were delayed a long time in getting upon the trail of the robbers,
from these having taken a bye-path leading along the base of the bluff.
At length having found the route of their retreat, they followed it over
the lower ford, and there saw sign to convince them that the Indians--
still supposing them such--had gone on across the bottom, and in all
probability up the bluff beyond--thus identifying them with the band
which the hunters had seen and tracked down. Indeed no one doubted
this, nor could. But, while the scouters were examining the return
tracks, they came upon others less intelligible--in short, perplexing.
There were the hoof-marks of four horses and a mule--all shod; first
seen upon a side trace leading from the main ford road. Striking into
and following it for a few hundred yards, they came upon a place where
men had encamped and stayed for some time--perhaps slept. The grass
bent down showed where their bodies had been astretch. And these men
must have been white. Fragments of biscuit, with other debris of
eatables, not known to Indians, were evidence of this.
Returning from the abandoned bivouac, with the intention to ride
straight back to the Mission, the scouters came upon another side trace
leading out on the opposite side of the ford road, and up the river. On
this they again saw the tracks of the shod horses and mule; among them
the foot-prints of a large dog.
Taking this second trace it conducted them to a glade, with a grand
tree, a live-oak, standing in its centre. The sign told of the party
having stopped there also. While occupied in examining their traces,
and much mystified by them, they picked up an article, which, instead of
making matters clearer, tended to mystify them more--a wig! Of all
things in the world this in such a place!
Still, not so strange either, seeing it was the counterfeit of an Indian
_chevelure_--the hair long and black, taken from the tail of a horse.
For all, it had never belonged to, or covered, a red man's skull--since
it was that worn by Bosley, and torn from his head when Woodley and
Heywood were stripping him for examination.
The scouters, of course, could not know of this; and, while inspecting
the queer waif, wondering what it could mean, two others were taken up:
one a sprig of cypress, the other an orange blossom; both showing as if
but lately plucked, and alike out of place there.
Dupre, with some slight botanic knowledge, knew that no orange-tree grew
near, nor yet any cypress. But he remembered having observed both in
the Mission-garden, into which the girls had been last seen going.
Without being able to guess why they should have brought sprig or flower
along, he was sure they had themselves been under the live-oak. Where
were they now?
In answer, Hawkins had cried: "Gone this way! Here's the tracks of the
shod horses leading up-stream, this side. Let's follow them!"
So they had done, after despatching Tucker with the report.
It is so far satisfactory, better than any one expected; and inspires
Colonel Armstrong with a feeling akin to hope. Something seems to
whisper him his lost children will be recovered.
Long ere the sun has set over the valley of the San Saba his heart is
filled, and thrilled, with joy indescribable. For his daughters are by
his side, their arms around his neck, tenderly, lovingly entwining it,
as on that day when told they must forsake their stately Mississippian
home for a hovel in Texas. All have reached the Mission; for the
scouting party having overtaken that of Woodley, came in along with it.
No, not all, two are still missing--Clancy and Jupiter. About the
latter Woodley has made no one the wiser; though he tells Clancy's
strange experience, which, while astounding his auditory, fills them
with keen apprehension for the young man's fate.
Keenest is that in the breast of Helen Armstrong. Herself saved, she is
now all the more solicitous about the safety of her lover. Her looks
bespeak more than anxiety--anguish.
But there is that being done to hinder her from despairing. The
pursuers are rapidly getting ready to start out, and with zeal unabated.
For, although circumstances have changed by the recovery of the
captives, there is sufficient motive for pursuit--the lost treasure to
be re-taken--the outlaws chastised--Clancy's life to be saved, or his
death avenged.
Woodley's words have fired them afresh, and they are impatient to set
forth.
Their impatience reaches its climax, when Colonel Armstrong, with head
uncovered, his white hair blown up by the evening breeze, addresses
them, saying:--
"Fellow citizens! We have to thank the Almighty that our dear ones have
escaped a great danger. But while grateful to God, let us remember
there is a man also deserving gratitude. A brave young man, we all
believed dead--murdered. He is still alive, let us hope so. Simeon
Woodley has told us of the danger he is now in--death if he fall into
the hands of these desperate outlaws. Friends, and fellow citizens! I
need not appeal to you on behalf of this noble youth. I know you are
all of one mind with myself, that come what will, cost what it may,
Charles Clancy must be saved."
The enthusiastic shout, sent up in response to the old soldier's speech,
tells that the pursuit will be at least energetic and earnest.
Helen Armstrong, standing retired, looks more hopeful now. And with her
hope is mingled pride, at the popularity of him to whom she has given
heart, and promised hand. Something more to make her happy; she now
knows that, in the bestowing of both, she will have the approval of her
father.