"Hallo!" shouted a peremptory voice. "Hallo! Hallo!"
"It's the Senor Jim," gasped Adan.
Roldan sprang to his feet. "Hallo!" he cried.
There was a heavy trampling in the chaparral, and a moment later Hill
rode into view. He took off his sombrero and waved it at the boys, but
did not speak until he had crossed the creek and dismounted. Then he
turned and regarded them with his keen hard eyes.
"Well!" he exclaimed, "I never calkilated to see you alive agin, and
that's a fact. Hed some more adventures, I presume. Look as if ye'd hed
more adventures than grub."
"Indeed we have, Don Jim," said Roldan, solemnly. "Should you like to
hear them?"
"Should I? Well, I guess. You and your adventures have kinder made me
feel young once more."
Roldan told the painful story.
"Holy smoke!" exclaimed Hill, in conclusion, "you are tough! And two
mirages in the bargain. I was lost on Mojave once, and to my mind the
mirages was the wust part of the hull game."
"What do you mean?" asked Roldan. "What are mirages?"
"Mirages, Rolly, are what ought to be and ain't, what you want and
can't git, and they bear a hell-fired resemblance to life. I see you
don't quite understand. Well, that there beautiful city and that there
beautiful lake was what we call mirage for want of better name!" And he
explained to them the meaning of the phenomenon, as far as he
understood it.
"We have certainly learned a good deal since we left home," said
Roldan, thoughtfully.
"There's room for more. There's room for more. Now, I suppose you'd
like to know how I come here. Wall, I've got a confession to make fust,
and seein' as you've been so nigh to death in the last few days,
p'r'aps you'll furgive me. The day after you left I went down to see
the priest, as agreed. I found him--well, I don't know as I'll tell
everything, not even to excuse myself. It's enough to say that he was
half luny between fear and remorse. He told me--I suppose he'd got to
that state where he had to tell somebody or bust--about leavin' you in
the tunnel to die, and bein' willin' after to kill you with his own
hands--he was that mad. But he felt terrible sorry, and said that if
you told on him it would serve him right; only that would mean
ruin--ruin--ruin--a terrible word, young man. And he's not a day over
forty and calkilates to git out of Californy with that there gold and
be a big-bug in his native land. I hesitated some time, fur I ain't no
slouch at keepin' a promise; but in the end I had to tell him. Why, a
man's a criminal if he don't put another man out of misery when he
kin--"
"You did quite right," interrupted Roldan. "I am glad that he was
punished, but I would not have any one punished for ever."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way. He felt good, I kin tell you that.
He looked ten years younger in five minutes, for he said as how he knew
you'd keep your word. I went straight off and managed to have a word
with young Carrillo. It warnt no trouble to make him promise to keep
his mouth shet; he's more afraid of the priest than he is of his
father's green-hide lariat, and that's sayin' a heap. When I went back
to the Mission I told the priest that I thought as how I'd go on to
Ortega's, and see if you got there all right. When I got there and
heard as how you hed crossed the mountains in a terrible storm I just
hed to go on. I made straight for old Sanchez', who has a hacienda and
raises grapes just this side of the river. He was drunk as usual, but
his servants hedn't seen nothin' of you, and then I was seriously
alarmed. That was at night, and I couldn't do nothin' until daylight,
so I got a good sleep and the next mornin' I started for Mojave. I know
it pretty well, and there was no danger of gittin' lost. At nightfall I
found your horses and ponchos--the horses was dead, poor things. I
slept on the desert that night, and the next mornin' rode back as hard
as I could put, suspicionin' that you would have sense enough to strike
west. I went round the corner of that there cactus wood, never thinkin'
ye were in it, and I expect I got well to this side before you was out.
When I got to this creek I rode up and down it, then crossed over,
thinkin' ye might hev gone on. It was only when I saw smoke that I said
to myself for the fust time: 'There they be.' And you bet it did me
good, for I was powerful worried."
"Don Jim," said Roldan, "you are a kind and good man. I love you, and I
will always be your friend."
"So. Well, I'm powerful glad to hear that. You ain't much like 'Merican
kids, but you're pretty clever all the same, and I like ye better 'n
any boy I ever know'd, hanged if I don't. Don't be jealous, sonny"--to
Adan--"I like ye too--but Rolly--well!"
"You would not like Roldan half so well if it were not for me," said
Adan, whose face expressed nothing.
"So. Well. Now, be ye rested? We want to git to old Sanchez' fur a good
supper and a soft bed to-night."
The boys rose with alacrity. Hill bade them mount his powerful horse,
and walked beside them.
Sanchez' house was only three miles away, but the road lay through
chaparral which sprang across in many places. It was heavy dusk when
they emerged. For some time past they had heard wild eccentric cries,
and their three pistols were cocked. As they rode through a grove of
trees beyond the chaparral, they saw a dark something rolling toward
them. In an instant Hill had snatched the boys from the horse and swung
them to the limb of a tree.
"Hide yourselves among the leaves," he said, "and don't even breathe
mor' 'n you kin help."
He gave the horse a sharp cut with his switch and it galloped on; then
he climbed a neighbouring tree with the agility of a wildcat, and
crouched.
The boys gazed into the dusk with distended eyes. The cloud came on
with inconceivable rapidity. In a moment it outlined itself. Those were
living creatures, fleeing. A stampede? No, men. . . . What? Indians?
They were within a hundred yards now, and their lithe naked forms, the
tomahawks and bows and arrows gripped in their clenched hands, could
plainly be seen; a moment later, their evil faces, distorted with fear.
In the middle distance behind them was a huge column of fire. A strange
figure seemed leaping among the flames. It was from this scarlet column
that the strange noises came. The Indians made no sound beyond their
impact with the atmosphere.
They deflected suddenly and passed to the right of the grove; a moment
later the three in ambush heard them crashing through the brush. Hill
waited until the sound had grown faint in the distance before he swung
himself down and helped the boys to the ground.
"That was a close shave," he said. "Them was murderin' savages, no
weak-kneed Mission variety. I'd give two cents to know what scared 'em
and what's goin' on over yonder. They were on the rampage, which same
means thievin' and killin', or my name ain't Jim Hill."
"We're used to Indians," said Adan, with gentle pride.
"Oh, be ye? Well, if them Indians had caught you fryin' your supper,
you'd have got as well acquainted with the next world in just about
three quarters of an hour. Well, we've all got to foot it now; but it
ain't far. I'm powerful anxious to know what's goin' on over to
Sanchez'! Mebbe two tribes met and them's the victors offerin' up the
tail end of that there valiant army. Golly Moroo, but they did look
scared."
They walked on rapidly, but without further conversation; they were all
hungry, and the boys were still very fagged. As they approached the
blazing mass, the figure seemed to leap more wildly still among the
flames, the cries to grow hoarser and more grotesque. All about was
heavy blackness. The slender branches of the burning pine writhed and
hissed; they might have been a pyramid of rattlesnakes caught in
spouting flame. Overhead the stars had disappeared beyond a heavy cloud
of smoke. It was a sight to strike terror to the heart of civilised
man; small wonder that the superstitious children of the mountain and
desert had fled in panic.
They had advanced a few yards farther when suddenly Hill flung himself
on the ground and gave vent to a series of hysterical yells, at the
same time rolling over and over, clutching at the grass. Roldan,
seriously alarmed, and wondering if any other boys in the history of
the Californias had ever had so much to try their nerves, ran to his
assistance; he caught him by his lean shoulders, and shook him soundly.
"Don Jim! Don Jim!" he exclaimed. "Are you ill, my friend? You have
some whisky in your flask, no?"
At this Hill burst into a loud guffaw. Roldan and Adan looked at each
other helplessly. The Spanish do not laugh often, and although the boys
dimly realised that Hill's explosion resembled--remotely--the dignified
concession of their race to the ridiculous, yet they feared that this
was a diseased and possibly fatal variety.
But in a moment Hill sat up. He wiped his eyes, and with some
difficulty controlled his voice.
"No, I ain't ill, young 'uns," he said. "But them Indians 'ud be pretty
sick if they knowed what they run from. That there object cavortin'
round that there bonfire is old Sanchez, and he's drunk. Oh, Lord!" And
once more Hill gave way to mirth.
"He did more good than harm to get drunk this time," said Roldan,
smiling sympathetically.
"You're right, Rolly. You've got a long head. If old Sanchez had set
down to supper sober to-night, there'd be a war-dance round another
bonfire this minute, and his scalp 'ud be bobbin' bravely. I don't
approve of liquor," he added cautiously, remembering the young ideas
shooting before him. "I only said that there be exceptions to all
rules, and this is one of them."
"I understand," said Roldan, drily. "I am not thinking of following the
Senor Sanchez' example. But do you suppose that was really what
frightened the Indians?"
"Just. Well, I guess! They've probably got some idee of the devil, and
they thought that was him, sure 's fate."
He sprang to his feet, ran forward, caught the bacchanalian about the
shoulders, and rushed him in the direction of the dimly-looming house,
throwing one of his own long legs into the air every now and again. The
boys ran after. When they reached the house its master was extended on
a settee in the living-room, and Hill was telling the tale of their
narrow escape to the frightened household.
"I don't think they'll come back," he said in conclusion. "But it's
jest as well to have your guns ready, and for one or two of ye to set
up all night. We three'd like grub and beds as quick as you kin git 'em
ready."
Never had beds felt so sweet as they did that night. The boys awoke
refreshed, themselves again; and no Indians had returned to disturb
their slumbers.