"Take us to the temascal," said Roldan, peremptorily, and the savage,
in whom servility had been planted by civilisation, yielded to the will
of the aristocrat. He bent his shoulders and said: "Bueno; come!"
The boys followed him through the brush, the sweet-scented chaparral on
which the honey-dew still lingered, to another and smaller clearing.
Here were several long rows of earthen huts, three or four feet high,
out of which smoke poured through an aperture in the roof of each. Near
by was a broad creek to which the bank sloped gently from the clearing.
The creek, some three feet deep, murmured over coloured stones and
sprouting trees. The long fine strands of the ice grass trailed far
over the water, motionless. Huge bunches of maidenhair, delicate as
green lace, clung to the steep bluffs on the opposite side. Forests of
ferns grew close to the water's edge. Down through a rift in the cliffs
tumbled a mountain stream over its rocky bed.
"Are they stewing in those things?" asked Roldan.
The Indian nodded. Roldan, followed closely by Adan, approached one of
the temascals and opened the door cautiously. At first they could see
nothing, so dense was the smoke; but when much had rushed out through
the new opening, they saw two prostrate figures, sweating from every
pore. Their eyes were closed, they breathed stertorously. The
expression on their heavy faces was beatific.
"Caramba!" exclaimed Adan, as Roldan closed the door, "I am glad they
like it. What a lot of trouble to get clean."
"As they never take a bath, they couldn't get clean any other way; and
besides it rests them after any great exertion--Mission raiding, for
instance--and they also fancy it drags every humour out through the
pores of the skin. They'll be coming out soon. Let us go down to the
creek and wait."
The smoke was ascending upward in straight columns through the still
air, scarcely clouding the brilliant morning, not a wreath wandering
into the aisles of the forest. The sun climbed higher, melting the
light fall of snow, its rays dancing among the silver ripples of the
water, vivifying the many greens about the creek.
The boys amused themselves flinging pebbles at the darting trout and
discussing chances of escape.
"We must not fly too soon," said Roldan, "or we shall run into the
soldiers. Of course they are scouring the country after these robbers."
"This is a good place to hide in until the Mission food gives out; but
I'd prefer even the barracks to living on acorns--Ay, look!"
The door of one of the temascals had opened. A limp figure tottered
forth and down to the bank. He almost fell into the creek, but had
sufficient wit uncooked to rest his head on a projecting stone.
Presently came another, then another, and another, until the bright
rocks were covered with dusky forms, the heads bobbing just above the
surface, supported on stump or stone. The boys barely recognised
Anastacio. Where was that commanding presence, that haughty mien? Bowed
like an old man, blind from smoke, with simmering brain, he reeled into
the water with as little dignity as his creatures.
But in less than an hour all had sprung forth briskly, danced about in
the sun to dry, and started on a run for the pueblo. Roldan and Adan
followed close, knowing that a feast alone would satisfy appetite after
the temascal. And in a little time the smell of roast meat pervaded the
morning, great cakes were roasting. The boys were invited to eat apart
with Anastacio. At the conclusion of the meal the host, who had not
spoken, solemnly poured out three glasses of fire-water. He swallowed
his at a gulp. The boys sipped a few drops, winking rapidly. Then
Roldan thought it time to speak: his chief was visibly thawed.
"What are you keeping us for?" he asked.
"Ransom." Anastacio lit a cigarrito--one of the padre's--and lay back
on a bearskin.
"Do you know why we ran away? To escape the conscription. If you give
us up, all our adventures, our dangers, our escapes, will be as
nothing, and we shall be punished besides."
Anastacio moved his eyes to Roldan's with a flash of interest.
"Good! I hate the government. You shall stay here until the time of
conscription is over. Then I will get a big sack of Mexican dollars, a
herd of cattle, a caponara of horses, and much tobacco and whiskey. Who
are your fathers?"
Roldan explained.
Anastacio flushed under his thick skin. "Good. I will double the
ransom--and the guard."
"The conscription will be over in a few weeks--"
"You could not go before. We too must hide. Of course the soldiers are
behind. I have many scouts watching. Now go to sleep."
The following week was clear and bright, but very cold. The boys, bred
in the warm basin of California, must have suffered had not Anastacio
ordered one of his minions to make them coat and boots from the skin of
the coyote. Every morning the chief drilled his men with the tactics of
a born commander who had let no opportunity for observation escape him.
The military discipline of the pueblo was only relaxed for three hours
in the afternoon, during which time the Indians were given full taste
of the freedom they coveted that they might battle for it the more
passionately when the time came. They gambled, slept, shot game in the
forest, exercised the horses, which were in corral about a mile from
the camp. The boys shot deer with Anastacio, and wrestled in the plaza.
Occasionally the taciturn Indian unbent when sitting by the great
bonfire in the open at night, and told wild tales of savage life before
the padres came. Roldan admired his splendid supple body and fearless
manhood, but the Indian was too sinister to inspire affection. Adan was
loudly bored. Roldan's ardent imagination sustained him.
At the end of the week the scouts having failed to discover any sign of
the enemy, Anastacio determined to go down to the river in the valley
for a fortnight's salmon fishing. He, too, was bored. The fangs of
civilisation are long and tenacious.
It was on a brilliant winter's morning that Anastacio, his captives,
and his five hundred men wound their way down through the cold forest
on the mountain into the soft warm air of the valley. There had been no
rain for three weeks, and the river was not more than half full; and it
was very quiet. They camped on the bank, well away from the scattered
groups of trees, that they might not lose a ray of sunshine; and Roldan
and Adan forgot that they were under constant surveillance. There were
no tents; they slept in the open air, the boys in the centre of a
square of Indians. During the day they caught many fine salmon, and
salted what they did not eat, to sell to the rancheros.
It was on the sixth night that Roldan, who was wakeful, suddenly raised
himself on his elbow and listened intently. Far away, above the murmur
of the river, the audible slumbers of the camp, he heard a low,
precise, monotonous sound. He knew what it meant. For a moment he
hesitated. The chances of escape seemed to grow less daily. It was true
that he was in no danger, that he would eventually be restored to his
parents--but with his adventures cut short. He was fond of his home,
but it was always there, and he was keen for variety: his life had been
very uneventful. On the other hand, if that advancing army conquered
the Indians, might not his and Adan's captivity be far more distasteful
than it was at present? He sprang up and called Anastacio. In a second
that warrior was on his feet and had leaped over his alert sentinels
into the square.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Listen."
Anastacio threw himself full length and laid his ear to the ground. A
moment later he was erect again. He caught Roldan by one shoulder and
Adan by the other. By this time every Indian in the camp was pressing
about his chief.
"They are not two miles away," said Anastacio. "And the dawn will be
here in an hour. There are ten miles between us and the mountains. I
don't wish to fight in the open without knowing their numbers."
Roldan danced up and down with sudden excitement. "I have a plan," he
cried. "You can trust me. I don't want to go back."
Anastacio bent his keen malevolent eyes close above the young
Spaniard's, then loosened his hold.
"Bueno," he said. "I trust you."
"The straw," said Roldan. "Bring it all here."
Anastacio gave the order, and an immense carreta of straw was trundled
up.
"Now," said Roldan, "gather it into bunches the size of a man's head
and tie each firmly. The tide is running toward the enemy, and it is
too dark to see clearly. Do you understand, senor?"
Anastacio made a loud exclamation, caught Roldan in his arms and
kissed him, much to that haughty young gentleman's disgust, then tied
the first bunch himself. Roldan, Adan, and some forty of the quicker
Indians rapidly manipulated the straw, and in little more than ten
minutes had cast a hundred round compact bundles into the hurrying
tide. As they sailed away they certainly looked, under the heavy shadow
of the banks and the black-blue of the sky, like an army of men
swimming with the desperate haste of terror, their heads alone above
water.
"Now!" cried Anastacio, "to the mountains."
They had brought only pack-horses. There was nothing to do but run, and
Anastacio, driving his entire following ahead of him, sped to cover. It
was not twenty minutes before they heard a sharp volley of musketry,
and if their breath had not been short they would have laughed aloud at
the success of Roldan's strategy. The sky was turning grey as they
reached the straggling outposts of the forest on the mountain. The
firing had ceased. Their ruse had doubtless been discovered.
"We will hide for twenty-four hours and rest," Anastacio said to
Roldan, who was the only person he condescended to hold converse with,
although he allowed Adan to sun himself in his presence. "By that time,
too, I shall know their numbers. If they are many I'll draw them into
the mountains and fire from ambush. If few, they shall have open fight."
"You will let us see it?" asked Roldan, eagerly. "Of course I cannot
fight my own people; but I don't want to be sent to the pueblo, and I
do want to see a fight."
Anastacio hesitated. "Bueno," he said, "I owe you much. You give me the
word of the California don that unless I am killed you will not run
away?"
"I promise. There is nothing else to do. That is to say, I promise not
to run away before this battle is over."
"That is what I mean," said Anastacio, curtly. "Now we will sleep."
He disposed his men in the forest above a narrow, rocky canon into
which the enemy would hardly venture. Roldan volunteered to keep watch
with the two sentinels, and returned with them to the outskirts of the
forest. The enemy was marching steadily across the valley. After a time
they halted, and lay down for a time. Early in the afternoon they
resumed march, then halted again within a mile of the mountain, sending
two scouts ahead. By this time Anastacio had joined his sentinels, and
all four hid in the underforest between the great trees.
The scouts, keeping as much under cover as was possible, crept up the
lower spur of the mountain, their glance describing a constant
half-circle. When they were within a few feet of the fugitives,
Anastacio raised his bow and discharged two arrows in rapid succession.
One buried itself in the jugular of the foremost scout, and he huddled
down among the soft leaves without a cry. The other, equally well
aimed, entered the shoulder of the second scout, where it quivered
violently for a few seconds, then was torn forth and flung to the
ground with a cry of defiance. The Californian, disregarding his wound,
raised himself to his full height and pointed his pistol. But vaguely:
the quiet, feathery young redwoods told no tales. Then his eye fell
upon his dead brother. He turned and fled.
"They will not enter the forest," said Anastacio; "and when I am ready
they will fight, not before. Have you pencil and paper, senor?"
Roldan produced a treasured note-book that a relative had brought him
from Boston.
"Write," said the chief; and he dictated:--
SENOR DON CAPITAN,--At noon to-morrow we fight in the valley near the
eight oak trees and the two madronos. Do you wish to fight sooner you
can come into the mountains. It will be better for us.