BAITING A WOLF-TRAP.
At Fort Wingate the real hardships of the trip began in an unexpected
manner. Instead of being plentifully supplied with provisions, as had
been reported, the post was found to be very poorly provided, and all
that could be spared to the engineers were condemned quartermaster's
stores. The party must take these or nothing; and when Mr. Hobart left
it to his men whether they should accept the damaged stores and push on,
or go back to the Rio Grande, they unanimously said, "Go on!" So, for
the next two months, they made the best of half-spoiled hams and bacon,
hard-tack filled with white worms, and sugar abounding in little black
bugs, that fortunately floated on top of the coffee and could be skimmed
off.
The men provided themselves with a number of little luxuries at the
sutler's--the last store they would see for months--and "Billy" Brackett
bought a cheese. This was considered a very queer purchase; but Glen's
was queerer still, for it was a small quantity of strychnine. He only
procured this after giving assurances that he did not propose to commit
suicide and making many promises to be very careful in its use. What he
proposed to do with the poison he did not confide to anybody except his
friend "Billy" Brackett, who agreed with him that it was a capital plan.
A run of twelve miles from Fort Wingate brought the party to a camp, in
a forest of the most stately yellow-pines they had ever seen, beside a
great spring of ice-cold water--known as the Agua Fria (cold water).
Here, as soon as supper was over, Glen proceeded to put his great plan
into execution. The nights were now very cold, and the boy generally
woke before morning to find himself shivering beneath his insufficient
covering of blankets. Every night, too, since entering the mountains the
party had been annoyed by the sneaking visits and unearthly howlings of
wolves that hung on the outskirts of the camp from dark to daylight,
every now and then making a quick dash through it, if the guard was not
watching sharply, and snatching at bits of food or at anything made of
leather that lay in their path. So Glen thought he would teach the
wolves a lesson, which should at the same time add some of their skins
to his bed-clothing; and it was for this purpose he had procured the
strychnine.
Now, with "Billy" Brackett's help, he dragged out from one of the wagons
a gunny-sack, containing some kidneys, lungs, and other refuse animal
matter, obtained from the Fort Wingate butcher, and these he smeared
with the deadly powder. Then they prepared several torches of pine
slivers, and, amid the unanswered questionings of their companions, left
camp, carrying the sack of meat between them. Beginning at a point a few
rods from the tents, they strewed the poisoned bait for half a mile
along the banks of the little stream flowing from the spring. It was an
exciting task, for they seemed to hear suspicious sniffs, and the soft
pattering of feet on both sides of them; while Glen felt certain that
his torchlight was reflected from gleaming eyeballs more than once. So
greatly did these things work upon their imaginations that when, as they
started back towards camp, their last torch suddenly went out, leaving
them in blackest darkness, they both took to their heels, and raced
breathlessly for the distant light of the friendly camp-fire. When they
reached it, in perfect safety, they burst out laughing in one another's
faces, and wondered what they had run from.
Glen was disappointed, as he lay shivering in his blankets that night,
not to hear so many wolves as usual, while the few howls that did reach
his ears seemed to come from a distance. Still, he comforted himself
with the reflection that dead wolves couldn't howl, and doubtless all
those that had ventured near the camp had eaten the poisoned meat, and
had their howlings effectually silenced.
It seemed to him that he had hardly dropped asleep when he was rudely
awakened by being pulled, feet foremost, out of his blankets, under the
side of the tent, and into the open air. At the same moment "Billy"
Brackett's laughing voice cried, "Come, Glen, here it is broad daylight,
and high time we were gathering in our wolves."
Whew! how cold it was! and in what a hurry Glen sprang from the frozen
ground, to rush back into the tent for his boots and army overcoat. He
had everything else on, for there was very little undressing at night in
that party. As for being sleepy, the biting air had awakened him as
effectually as a dash of ice-water.
As they left camp, "Billy" Brackett shouted back to one of the Mexican
axemen to follow after them, and the man answered that he would be along
in a minute. It was light enough, when they reached the place where they
had left the first of the poisoned meat, for them to see it if it had
been there; but it was not. Neither was there any dead wolf to be found
in the vicinity. It was the same along the whole line, where they had
scattered their bait. They could neither discover meat nor wolves.
"Hello!" exclaimed "Billy" Brackett softly, as they were about to turn
back, "I believe the wolves are cooking their meat;" and with that he
pointed to a thin column of blue smoke rising through the trees at some
distance farther down the stream.
"Perhaps they are Indians," suggested Glen.
"Perhaps they are. Let's go and find out. We can take a look at them
without being seen. Besides, the Indians hereabout are peaceful now."
So they crept cautiously towards the smoke, until at length they were
lying flat on the ground, on the edge of a low bank, with their heads
hidden in tufts of grass, peering into a small encampment of Indians
just below them. They had hardly gained this position when Glen,
uttering a cry of horror, sprang down the bank, rushed in among the
Indians, and, snatching a piece of meat from the hands of one of them,
who was raising it to his mouth, flung it so far away that it was
snapped up and swallowed by a lean, wolfish-looking cur, that had not
dared venture near the fire.
At Glen's sudden appearance the Indian women and children ran screaming
into the bushes, while the men, springing to their feet, surrounded him
with angry exclamations and significant handlings of their knives. They
received a second surprise, and fell back a little as "Billy" Brackett,
who had not at first understood Glen's precipitate action, came rushing
down the bank after him, shouting, "Stand back, you villains! If you lay
a hand on him, I'll blow the tops of all your heads off!"
At the same time Glen was making all the faces expressive of extreme
disgust that he could think of, and saying, as he pointed to a pile of
meat lying in a gunny-sack beside the fire:
"_Carne no bueno! Muy mal! No bueno por hombre!_" which was the best
Spanish he knew for, "The meat is not good. It is very bad, and not at
all good for a man to eat."
But the Indians could not understand. The meat might not be good enough
for white men, who were so very particular, but it was good enough for
them. The white men had thrown it away and they had found it. They meant
to eat it, too, for they were very hungry. Now, if these uninvited
guests to their camp would not clear out and let them eat their
breakfast in peace, they must suffer the consequences.
This is what they said; but neither Glen nor "Billy" Brackett understood
a word of it. They were preparing to defend themselves, as well as they
could, from the scowling Indians, who were again advancing upon them
with drawn knives.
Both Glen and his companion had their rifles, and now, as they stepped
slowly backward, they held them ready for instant use.
"We won't fire," said "Billy" Brackett, "unless they point a gun or an
arrow at us; for the first shot will be the signal for a rush, and if
they make that we haven't got a living show."
All this time the Indians, to the number of a dozen or so, advanced
steadily, taking step for step with the whites, as they fell back, and
watching for a chance to get past or around the black muzzles of those
rifles.