The new object of dread was a large gun, which had been brought upon the
ground by one of those lately arrived. In all probability, it belonged
to El Zorro, as it was in his hands we first observed it. It appeared
to be a long musket, or elephant-gun, such as the "roers" in use among
South African hunters.
Whatever sort of weapon it was, we soon found to our annoyance that it
pitched an ounce of lead nearly twice as far as any of our rifles, and
with sufficient precision to make it probable that, before the sun had
set, El Zorro would be able to pick off our horses, and perhaps
ourselves, in detail.
It would be half-an-hour before darkness should screen us with its
friendly shelter, and he had already commenced practice. His first shot
had been fired. The bullet struck the cliff close to my own head,
scattering the fragments of gypsum rock about my ears, and then fell,
flattened like a Spanish dollar, at my feet.
The report was far louder than that of either carbine or escopette; and
an ejaculation from Rube, as he saw the effect of the shot, followed by
his usual ominous whistle, told that the old trapper was not disposed to
make light of this new piece of ordnance. Neither was Garey. His look
testified to what all three of us were thinking--which was, that this
mode of attack was likely to put us in a more awkward dilemma than we
had yet been placed in. El Zorro might shoot us down at his leisure.
With our rifles, we could neither answer his fire, nor silence it. Our
peril was obvious.
The salteador had delivered his first shot "off hand," for we had seen
him level the piece. Perhaps it was fortunate for us he had not taken
aim over a "lean;" but fortune from that source was not going to favour
us any farther; for we now observed Ijurra stick two lances obliquely in
the ground, so that they crossed each other at a proper height, thus
forming as perfect a rest as marksman could have desired.
As soon as the gun was reloaded, El Zorro knelt behind the lances,
placed his barrel in the fork, and once more took aim.
I felt satisfied he was aiming at _me_, or my horse. Indeed, the
direction of the long dark tube would have told me so; but I saw Ijurra
directing him, and that made me sure of it.
I had little fear for myself. I was sheltered sufficiently, but I
trembled for the brave horse that shielded me.
I waited with anxious heart. I saw the blaze of the priming as it
puffed upward; the red flame projected from the muzzle, and
simultaneously I felt the shock of the heavy bullet striking upon my
horse.
Splinters of wood flew about my face; they were fragments of the
saddle-tree. The ball had passed through the pommel, but my noble steed
was untouched! It was a close shot, however--too close to allow of
rejoicing, so long as others of the like were to follow.
I was getting as "riled" as Rube himself, when, all at once, a
significant shout from the old trapper drew my attention from El Zorro
and his gun.
Rube was on my right, and I saw that he was pointing along the bottom of
the cliff to some object in that direction I could not see what it was,
as his horses were in the way; but the next moment I observed him
hurrying them along the cliff, at the same time calling to Garey and
myself to follow.
I lost no time in putting my horse in motion, and Garey as hastily
trotted after.
We had not advanced many paces, before we comprehended the strange
behaviour of our companion.
Scarcely twenty yards from where we had first halted, a large rock
rested upon the plain. It was a fragment that had fallen from the
cliff, and was now lying several feet from its base; it was of such
size, and in such a position, that, there was ample space behind it to
shelter both men and horses--room for us all!
We were only astonished we had not observed it sooner; but this was not
to be wondered at, for its colour corresponded exactly with that of the
cliff, and it was difficult, even at twenty yards' distance, to
distinguish it from the latter. Besides, our eyes, from the moment of
our halting, had been turned in another direction.
We did not stay to give words to our surprise; but hurrying our horses
along with us, with joyful exclamations glided behind the rock.
It was not an echo of our joy, but a cry of disappointed rage, that
pealed along the line of the guerrilla. They saw at once that their
long gun would no longer avail them, and both Ijurra and his marksman
were now seen dancing over the ground like madmen. El Zorro's _metier_
was at an end.
A more perfect "harbour of refuge" could not have been found in all
prairie-land. As Garey alleged, it "beat tree-timber all hollow!" A
little fortress, in fact, in which we might defy even twice the number
of our assailants--unless, indeed, they should wax desperately brave,
and try us hand to hand.
Our sudden disappearance had created a new sensation in their ranks.
From their shouts, we could tell that some of them regarded it with
feelings of wonder--perhaps with emotions of a still stronger kind. We
could hear the exclamations "_Carrai!" "Carrambo_!" with the phrase
"_los demonios_!" passing from mouth to mouth. Indeed, from the
position which they occupied, it must have appeared to them that we had
gone into the cliff--for the separation of the rock from the wall behind
it was not perceptible from the plain, else _we_ should have perceived
it as we rode forward.
If our enemies knew of this outlying boulder, it was strange they had
left the way open to so safe a retreat--strange, since it did not
correspond with the cunning they had otherwise given proofs of--and yet
stranger they should be ignorant of its existence. Most of them were
natives of this frontier, and must have frequently visited the mesa,
which was one of the "lions" of the district.
Perhaps they had never troubled their thoughts about it. There is no
people who take less interest in the rare features of their beautiful
country than the Mexicans. Nature charms them not. A Mexican dwelling
with a garden around it is a rarity--a lawn or a shrubbery is never
seen; but indeed nature has bounteously supplied them with all these.
They dwell amidst scenes of picturesque beauty; they gaze over green
savannas--down into deep barrancas--up to the snow-crowned summits of
mighty mountains--without experiencing one emotion of the sublime. A
tortured bull, a steel-galved cock, Roman candles, and the Chinese
wheel, are to them the sights of superior interest, and furnish them
with all their petty emotions. So is it with nations, as with men who
have passed the age of their strength, and reached the period of
senility and second childhood.
But there was another, and perhaps a better, reason why none of our
adversaries should be intimate with the locality. As my companions
alleged, the spot was a favourite halting-place of the Comanches--_they_
have an eye for the picturesque--but perhaps the existence of a spring
that was near had more to do in guiding the preference of these "lords
of the prairies." The mesa, therefore, had for years been dangerous
ground, and little trodden by the idle curious. Possibly not one of the
heroes we saw before us had for years ventured so far out upon the
plains.