THE NEST OF TRAITORS.
"Dear me, Rosa," exclaimed Miss Maclan, the tent being cleared once
more, "I thought all you Southern Americans rode horses like centaurs.
At least, you know my meaning though the simile is bad."
Rosario gave her a hug.
"Eh, darling!" she whispered; and added with a fine smile. "At present
I do not know how to ride."
"But I should have thought--"
"You are not good at the kind of thinking wanted out here, lassie! The
guide spoken of by the captain is devoted to us, eh? Yes; well, then,
if he got that idiot of a Captain Kidd to put these questions to me, it
is because he wanted no for an answer. Do you comprehend now?"
"Better than ever. Oh, you are keen, Rosario! They will not cheat you
easily!"
"Alas, dear, it is misfortune's grindstone that sharpens wits. When
even girls are constantly surrounded by tricks and stratagems, the
senses wear clear and bright. Cunning and dissimulation are the slave's
sole weapons. We can only baffle our enemies with skill and _finesse_."
When the starting time came Captain Kidd's bugle sounded it, and gave
orders for the movement. The guide had not come back from his hunt, but
as he had left precise directions, the leader showed no tokens of being
crossed by that absence, and took the lead himself.
It was a most painful journey.
Out of the snowlined woods issued a black damp frost, which cut to the
bone even the thickest wrapped. A few large snowflakes were spun out of
treetops and wandered about. The semblance of a road was dreadfully cut
up and flanked by deep chasms, which required the utmost heedfulness on
the part of the teamster lest the vehicles and pack animals were thrown
down and over. They seemed to have nothing but ups and downs, and the
worst of the downs was, it being through torrents or pools where the
water was excessively chilly.
The caravan proceeded noiselessly on the whole, excepting the groaning
and screaming of the wheels and the sonorous oaths of the drivers: men
who do not sleep happily unless they have invented a fresh blasphemy
every day.
Their disagreeable march, during which but scanty progress was made
after all, was kept on till half past four, when darkness came on. The
train had reached a natural clearing resembling that of their last halt.
Such a huge fire as served our ancestors to roast oxen whole, and as
their present-day descendants now and then use for the same purpose at
extraordinary meetings, was blazing in the open space. Right in front
stood the guide, leaning on his rifle as easily as if he little cared
for the pyre attracting Indians as a lantern does gnats on a summer
night.
The party quickened their gait as much as possible, enheartened by the
ruddy flame of which the mere reflection seemed to thaw their stiffened
limbs.
Soon were the wagons unlimbered and ranged in defensive order, the
mules unladen, and the encampment as swiftly installed as could
be. As the night was to be spent here, the measures of assurance
were unusually well taken. The wagons were chained in two crescents
connected by parallel bars, the interstices choked up with stake and
thorn bushes, and the tents set up within the enclosure. The sentries
were told to keep their eyes skinned. Plenty of watch fires were
kindled and provided with fuel.
Only when these precautions were concluded did the gold grabbers get
leave to prepare supper. Think what their appetite was with this hard
work on top of that excited by the long and arduous journey. They
"wolf'd" their meal.
After the captain had strictly inspected the camp, investigated the
surrounding scenery, and became convinced all was in order, he strolled
over to Ranald. He was at his own fire, smoking a pipe, the guide not
being an officer who "chums" with anyone; again a point of resemblance
with a sea pilot.
"My friend the hunter," said the captain, in a most amicable tone, "I
desire you to pass the night with us, and take supper with our chiefs."
"Many thanks, captain; I do not see any reason why I should go out on
the prowl tonight, and nothing bars me from putting my knife into your
Washington pie. But a little condition on that, captain."
"Name it, dear boy. If it depends on me, it is granted beforehand,"
said Kidd, who was becoming accustomed to Dearborn's "little whims."
"I only ask one thing, that there shall be none but men at the board."
"A 'stag party?' But what do you say that for?"
"That's not easy to explain. But the fact is, I haven't come out into
the wilderness to hear women squeak, and see them mince about and play
all those niminy-piminy lures and graces that city people think are
agreeable. I have no wish to say a word contrary to the respect I hold
for the young Southern lady in your charge; but, by Jove! I'll confess
that I prefer the wolf scaring faggot here to sitting at table over
against the fair sex."
"Oh, good," replied the captain, who knew that for every seven young
men whom a homicide, debt, loss at gambling, love of wild life, etc.,
drove into the desert, there were six whose first love affair turned
out disastrously; he thought he perceived at last the true cause of the
youth's reserved mood and peculiarities. "You'll not be bothered with
her, particularly as we are going to talk about her, and could not well
do that if she were by, or her Scotch attendant either."
"Attendant?"
"Yes, I've picked out the woman we rescued to be her companion. It
cheers her up. She was moping a little."
"Things being so, captain, I am your man."
In five minutes, the captain, Joe, and the Englishman were supping
together with hearty appetite. When this was a trifle allayed by the
first course, Kidd brought the conversation round upon Doña Rosario, by
reason of her having stopped the choice of the short cut.
"Women are always a bother," remarked the young misanthrope with a
sneer. "With no intention to offend you, I would not mind betting a
trifle that the young lady can ride as well as you or I."
"She says the other thing," returned the host, thoughtful of a sudden.
"Out of the spirit of contradiction, that's all."
"It's very certain," interposed Joe, "if she was educated at New
Orleans, that she must be a rare exception to the troops of schoolgirls
who go out riding on the Shell Road."
"It's all pure contradiction," resumed Dearborn; "who can say a thing
is black to a woman without her saying it is white?"
"Or grey, at least," added the lieutenant, sagely.
"That's why," continued the youngest man, "I have sworn off woman's
society. Though the best woman in creation came out here, I should
send her back to the nearest railway station! I'll never cumber myself
up with the baggage! They're a bad bargain, though they come with a
million in the Funds!"
"Whew!" exclaimed Joe, laughing, "Our guide does not strike me as a
very passionate adorer of the sex."
"No, no, don't put me down as either hating or liking them," went on
the hunter; "write me as indifferent. My father was a man of great good
sense; an oracle in his county. He used to say that the modern woman is
like the grand piano: it looks useful, but it takes up too much room,
and is always in the way. You cannot use the wires for a gridiron, the
top is badly shaped for a billiard table, and the legs are so hard, you
cannot chop them up in a sudden emergency for heating shaving water.
And when she is musical, the neighbours move out and leave the last
quarter's rent owing. I agree with my dear old dad."
The others laughed.
"The sad part of it all is, that we must pass three or four days we
might have saved in this dreary solitude," remarked the captain.
"Still, you might take the short cut," observed Joe.
"I don't see how."
"Well, my principle is, that the few must give in to the many. Sound
democratic maxim. Doña Rosario says she cannot ride. Never mind whether
she can or not, truly; but that does not bind us down from taking the
cutoff. Not a bit of it."
"I wish you would explain," said Kidd, testily. "What would you do in
my place, man full of dodges?"
"One thing--the easiest thing in the world," responded the Carcajieu,
playing with his knife on a bone. "I would pick out an old sure-foot
mule--we've several rare good ones--I'd put a sidesaddle on, well
filled with a bag of leaves, rugs, blankets, and such fixings, so the
lady should not get cold, and fasten her in."
"Not a bad notion. What do you think, guide?"
Dearborn laughed in the face of Joe.
"And when the mule slips, your hardbound lady rider would be dashed to
sausage meat in the gulf below. They run eight hundred feet deep round
here."
"Bah! That's nothing. Apparently, you do not know what a mule is--a
cat for clinging to the roughnesses, a fly for walking up a smooth
perpendicular."
"Oh, if you think the mule can scramble along--"
"A mule can go where we daren't."
"Then I will share in your lieutenant's suggestions," said Dearborn,
exchanging a secret glance of intelligence with Joe.
"That's fine, then! Tomorrow we will strike into the straight line you
proposed, guide. Are your horns full? Then, here's to the Yellowstone
Valley!"