We had reached our ground just at the moment I desired. It was
twilight--dark enough to render ourselves inconspicuous under the
additional shadow of the trees--yet sufficiently clear to allow a full
reconnoissance of the enemy's position. Our point of view was a good
one--under a single _coup-d'oeil_ commanding the encampment, and a vast
extent of country around it. The hill we had climbed--a sort of
isolated _butte_--was the only eminence of any considerable elevation
for miles around; and the site of the camp was upon the plain that
stretched away from its base--apparently beyond limit!
The plain was what is termed a "pecan" prairie--that is, a prairie half
covered with groves, copses, and lists of woodland--in which the
predominating tree is the pecan--a species of hickory (_carya
olivaeformis_), bearing an oval, edible nut of commercial value.
Between the groves and _mottes_ of timber, single trees stood apart,
their heads fully developed by the free play given to their branches.
These park-looking trees, with the coppice-like groves of the pecan,
lent an air of high civilisation to the landscape; and a winding stream,
whose water, under the still lingering rays, glistened with the sheen of
silver, added to the deception. Withal, it was a wilderness--a
beautiful wilderness. Human hands had never planted those groves--human
agency had nought to do with the formation or adornment of that lovely
landscape.
Upon the bank of the stream, and about half a mile from the base of the
hill, stood the Indian camp. A glance at the position showed how well
it had been chosen--not so much for defence, as to protect it against a
surprise.
Assuming the lodge--there was but one--as the centre of the camp, it was
placed upon the edge of a small grove, and fronting the stream. From
the tent to the water's edge, the plain sloped gently downward, like the
glacis of a fortification. The smooth sward, that covered the space
between the trees and the water, was the ground of the camp. On this
could be seen the dusky warriors, some afoot, standing in listless
attitudes, or moving about; others reclining upon the grass, and still
others bending over the fires, as if engaged in the preparation of their
evening meal.
A line of spears, regularly placed, marked the allotment of each. The
slender shafts, nearly five yards in length, rose tall above the turf--
like masts of distant ships--displaying their profusion of pennons and
bannerets, of painted plumes and human hair. At the base of each could
be seen the gaudy shield, the bow and quiver, the embroidered pouch and
medicine-bag of the owner; and grouped around many of them appeared
objects of a far different character--objects that we could not
contemplate without acute emotion. They were women: enough of light
still ruled the sky to show us their faces; they were white women--the
captives.
Strange were my sensations as I regarded those forms and faces; but they
were far off--even a lover's eye was unequal to the distance.
Flanking the camp on right and left were the horses. They occupied a
broad belt of ground--for they were staked out to feed--and each was
allowed the length of his lazo. Their line converged to the rear, and
met behind the grove--so that the camp was embraced by an arc of
browsing animals, the river forming its chord. Across the stream, the
encampment did not extend.
I have said that the spot was well selected to guard against a surprise.
Its peculiar adaptability consisted in the fact, that the little grove
that backed the camp was the only timber within a radius of a thousand
yards. All around, and even on the opposite side of the stream, the
plain was treeless, and free from cover of any kind. There were no
inequalities of ground, neither "brake, bush, nor scaur," to shelter the
approach of an enemy.
Had this position been chosen, or was it accidental? In such a place
and at such a time, it was not likely they had any fear of a surprise;
but with the Indian, caution is so habitually exercised, that it becomes
almost an instinct; and doubtless under such a habit, and without any
forethought whatever, the savages had fixed upon the spot where they
were encamped. The grove gave them wood; the stream, water; the plain,
pabulum for their horses. With one of these last for their own food,
they had all the requisites of an Indian camp.
At the first glance, I saw the strength of their position--not so much
with the eye of a soldier, as with that of a hunter and bush-fighter did
I perceive it. In a military sense, it offered no point of defence; but
it could not be approached by stratagem, and that is all the
horse-Indian ever fears. Alarm him not too suddenly--give him five
minutes' warning, and he cannot be attacked. If superior in strength,
you may chase him; but you must be better mounted than he to bring him
to close combat. Retreat, not defence, is generally the leading idea of
Comanche strategy, unless when opposed to a Mexican foe. Then he will
stand fight with the courage of a master.
As I continued to gaze at the Indian encampment, my heart sank within
me. Except under cover of a dark night--a very dark night--it could not
be entered. The keenest spy could not have approached it: it appeared
unapproachable.
The same thought must at that moment have occupied the minds of my
companions; I saw the gloom of disappointment on the brows of all as
they knelt beside me silent and sullen. None of them said a word; they
had not spoken since we came upon the ground.