Feeny's bold defiance and threat had produced their effect. His voice
had rung out above the roar of the flames, and what Morales could not
hear was promptly reported by those who had crawled up nearer to the
bar and could understand every word. Even hampered by the care of
their helpless women, the defence was undismayed; the little garrison
was fighting with magnificent hope and courage. Beyond the wounding of
one of their number, no impression apparently had been made, whereas
the bandits had a sorry loss to contemplate. Ramon shot dead, Pasqual
crippled, and the two "Gringos," the daring and enterprising leaders
of the attack, painfully wounded, one probably mortally so. And now
with the flames lighting up the whole valley between the Picacho and
the Christobal, with cavalry known to be out in several squads within
easy march, some of the men were already weakening. They had had
enough of it and were quite ready to slink away; but Pasqual was a
raging lion. Revenge for the death of his brother, wrath over his own
crippled condition, fury at the failure of the assault, and hatred on
general principles of all honest means and honest men, all prompted
him to order and enforce a renewal of the attack, all served to madden
him to such a degree that even burning his adversaries to death seemed
simply a case of serving them right. What cared he that two of the
besieged were fair young girls, non-combatants? They were George
Harvey's daughters, and that in itself was enough to bring balm to his
soul and well-nigh cause him to forget his physical ills. One or two
of the band strove to point out that the faintest indignity offered to
the sisters would array not only all Arizona, but all Mexico against
them. Like dogs they would be hunted to their holes and no quarter be
given. Returning hitherto with their spoils, Chihuahua or Sonora had
welcomed them with open arms; but what outlaw could find refuge in
Mexican soil who had dared to wrong the children of George Harvey and
Inez Romero? It was even as they were pointing this out to Pasqual and
urging that he consent to be lifted into the ambulance and driven away
southward before the return of the cavalry, that Moreno himself
appeared. Slipping out of his western window, dropping to the ground
and making complete circuit of the corral, he suddenly joined in the
excited conference. What he said was in Spanish, or that pan-Arizona
_patois_ that there passes current for such, and was a wild, fervid
appeal. They had ruined him, him and his. He was unmasked, betrayed,
for now his connection with the band was established beyond all
question; now he was known and would soon be branded as an outlaw. His
home was being destroyed before his eyes,--not that that amounted to
much now that he could no longer occupy it,--his wife and child must
flee at once for Sonora and he go with them, but recompense for his
loss he must have; never again could he venture into Arizona: he would
be known far and wide as the betrayer of his benefactor's children,
though he called God and all the saints in the Spanish calendar to
witness he never dreamed of their being involved in his plot. The
paymaster's funds, not the lives of any of the paymaster's men, were
what he had sought to take, and now, there lay the dollars almost
within their grasp, but unless captured at once would be gone forever.
"I know that pig of a sergeant,--may the flames of hell envelop him
for all eternity!" he cried. "He will not scruple to do as he says. He
will cast every package into the seething furnace. _Mira!_ Look; the
shed is now all ablaze. In one minute the roof of the rancho will
burst into flame. There is not an instant to lose. I adjure you let
the daughters of Harvey, the son, the men come out at once; swear to
them safety, honor, protection. Let them go their way now, now. Then
you will have to deal with only two or three, and the treasure is
ours. Look you, Sanchez, Pedro, José, down with that shed next the
rancho! hurl it, drag it down so that its fire cannot reach the brush
beyond, then we can parley, we can win their ear. They will be but too
glad to be spared to go on their way unharmed. Yonder are their mules
across the corral. Hitch them in at once. Save the others for the
ambulance and the buck-board here, and for our noble chief. Is it not
so, capitan? Am I not right?"
Approving murmurs followed his fiery words. So long as the Yankees
held together there was little likelihood of the outlaws gaining the
ground except by burning out, and that now meant the destruction of
the very money they were after, the utter loss of the fortune that,
divided even among so many, would enable them to live like princes in
Hermosillo or beyond. They would be heroes, conquerors. But if that
were lost after all their plotting, planning, labor, and crime, there
was absolutely no recompense. Even through the brain-clouding fury of
his revenge Pasqual Morales saw the sound sense of Moreno's plea. He
made no effort to check the men who ran to do his bidding and were
even now with lariats and stalwart arms dragging the props from under
the shed and letting its western end come pattering down. Within the
eastern room the dense smoke was already finding its way. The sound of
falling beams and timber only conveyed to the occupants the idea that
already the shed was in embers, and that any instant the roof over
their heads would burst into a torrent of fire. Ned Harvey's brave
spirit was taxed to the utmost. Unless relief could come and come at
once, nothing remained for him but death, nothing for those fair
sisters but a fate far worse.
At one instant he was on the point of urging the paymaster to comply
with the outlaws' demand, pledging himself and his father's fortune to
make good to the government every cent so sacrificed. His father could
pay it four times over, and would rather sink his last cent than that
the faintest harm should come to those beloved children; but the next
moment Feeny's splendid defiance had so thrilled him that he could not
frame the words he thought to speak, and yet, here was awful peril
close at hand. What right had he to further jeopard the life, the
honor, of these, his father's fondest treasures? If it were only
himself it would be stay and fight it out to the bitter end. But if
the robbers could now be content with the money alone and pledge
safeguard for the party, was it not his duty, would it not be his
father's mandate were he there, to buy the safe and contents from the
agent of the general government and pay the ransom levied?
But he little dreamed of the fury of revenge and hatred burning in the
soul of Pasqual Morales. He little fathomed the treachery and cunning
of the outlawed scoundrel. Even as he was revolving these thoughts in
mind, ever and again listening with new hope for the sound of rallying
trumpet, the beat of rescuing hoofs, there resounded through the night
the sonorous and ringing voice that so short a time before had called
for the surrender of the safe.
"Edward Harvey, we pledge safe-conduct for you, your sisters, and your
party. Here is your wagon ready, your team hitched in. Throw your arms
out of the door. Come forth as you please. Put the señoritas in the
wagon. Look neither to the right nor left, but drive away, and God be
with you. We have no quarrel with you and yours. We war only with
these soldiers who have killed our chief."
Put yourself in his place. Death for him, perhaps for them,--dishonor
anyway,--was all they could look for if no rescue came. Was it not his
duty to his parents, to his sisters, even to God, to accept these
terms,--to withdraw his little force? Why should he be perilling such
precious lives and names in the defence of a government official who
had been so reckless as to part with his guard and put himself and his
funds in such a predicament? From the other room in which the major
now lay, feebly moaning, no word of remonstrance came. Even in their
extremity, then, the soldiers of the government would not urge that he
stay and encounter further peril in their defence. One of the drugged
troopers was beginning to regain some atom of sense, and, sitting up,
was miserably asking what had happened, what was the matter now.
"Go and douse water over your damned worthless head, Mullan," he heard
the sergeant say, so Feeny was evidently alert as ever and must have
heard the proposition from without. At his feet, huddled close to the
floor where the thick smoke was least distressing, Fanny and Ruth
still clung to one another, the latter trembling at the sound of the
voice from without. But Fanny had quickly, eagerly, raised her head to
listen. For a moment no reply was made. Then came the impatient
query,--
"Harvey, do you hear? You have no time to lose. You have but a minute
in which to answer."
"Major," he burst forth at last in an agony of doubt, "you hear what
they say, you see how I am fixed. If I were here alone you would never
need to ask my services, I'd fight with you to the bitter end; but
think of my father,--my mother if anything befall my sisters. Can
nothing be done?"
From the lips of the stricken paymaster there came only a groan in
reply.
"I fear he cannot hold out long, Mr. Harvey," muttered the clerk. "I
doubt if he heard or understood you."
"Well, why not let them have the safe if they'll guarantee that that
is all they want? How much have you there? I feel sure my father would
make it good."
"There's over twenty-five thousand dollars, Mr. Harvey."
"Well, if it was only twenty-five cents, Mr. Ned Harvey, all I've got
to say is, devil a wan of them would they get so long as I could load
a shot or pull a trigger. Go you if you will; take the leddies by all
means if you think it safer; but before I'd trust the wan sister I
ever had--God rest her soul--to the promise of any such blackguard
party as this, I'd bury my knife in her throat."
An awful stillness followed Feeny's words. For an instant there was no
sound but quick-beating hearts, the mutterings and complainings of
poor Mullan, staggering about in search of his carbine, the quickened
breath and low moaning of poor old Plummer. Then again came the loud
hail from without.
"Once more, Ned Harvey, will you come out and be saved, or stay there
and roast? Surrender now and you're all right; but, by the God of
heaven, if you refuse, it's the last chance for you or those you were
fool enough to bring here. Think for your sisters, man. There's no
hope for one of you if you delay another minute."
And then it was a woman's voice, tremulous but clear.
"Ned, wasn't it to save us that Major Plummer sent his men? Wasn't it
for our sake he gave up all his escort?"
"It was, Fan, yes; at least he thought so."
"And now you would desert him, would you?--leave him to be murdered by
these robbers, the worst gang we ever had or heard of. I say you shall
not. I for one will not go into their hands. Ruth cannot go without
me. Stay and fight it out, Ned, or you're not your father's son."
"Fan! Fan! you're a trump! God bless your brave heart!" cried Harvey.
"It seemed cowardly to go, yet the responsibility was more than I
could bear."
"May the saints in heaven smile on your purtty face for all eternity!"
muttered Feeny, in a rapture of delight. "The young leddy is right,
Mr. Harvey; though it wasn't for me to say it. Shure you can't trust
those scoundrels; they'd stab ye in the back, sir, and rob you of your
pretty sisters and drag them away before your dying eyes. That man
Pasqual is a devil, sir, nothing less. Shure we'll fight till rescue
comes, for come it will. I tell you the boys are spurring towards us,
hell to split, from every side now, and we'll whale these scoundrels
yet."
Then from without came the final hail,--
"What answer, Harvey? Now or never."
"Go to hell, you son of an ape and worse than a Greaser!" yelled
Feeny. "If you had a dhrop of Irish blood in your veins ye'd never ask
the question. Now if you think you can take this money, here's your
chance. No Harvey ever went back on his friends."
Even brain-muddled Mullan felt a maudlin impulse to cheer at Feeny's
enthusiastic answer. Even poor old Plummer gave a half-stifled cry.
Possibly he dreamed that rescue was at hand; but there was little time
for rejoicing. Springing back whence he came, the unseen emissary was
heard shouting some order to his fellows. The next instant the rifles
began their cracking on both sides, and the bullets with furious spat
drove deep into the adobe or whizzed through the gunny-sacks into the
barley. The unseen foe was once more investing them on every side and
not a shot could be wasted in return. Once more the furious crackle
and roar of flames was heard close at hand, and then the smoke grew
thicker, the heat increased, and poor Ned Harvey, his eyes smarting,
knelt steadfast at his post and prayed, prayed for the coming of
rescue, for the return of the loved father, all the gallant troop at
his back, and then--even as though in answer to his prayer--there came
a sudden lull in the fight.
"Something's coming!" shouted Feeny, excitedly. "They see or hear
somebody, sure. Look, Mr. Harvey, ain't that two of their fellows
scudding away westward out there?"
Surely enough. In the glare of the burning sheds the besieged caught a
glimpse of two of the gang bending low in their saddles a hundred
yards away and scudding like hounds over towards the open plain.
"Is it rescue? Are our people coming?" was the query that rose to
every lip. "God grant it!"
Heavens, how hearts were beating! How ears were straining underneath
that now blazing roof! Louder, fiercer soared the flames; furious
became the snapping of sun-baked branch and twig; stifling and thick
the smoke.
"Quick! Come here for a breath of air," called Harvey to his sisters.
"It's safe for a moment, at least." And instantly they joined him at
the door-way, still clinging close to the floor.
Listen! Hoofs! The thunder of galloping steeds! A distant cheer! A
soldierly voice in hoarse command,--
"Steady, steady there! Keep together, men!"
"God be praised!" screamed Feeny, in ecstasy. "Look up, major; look
up, sir. We're all safe now. Here come the boys. Hurroo!" And mad with
relief and delight, the sergeant sprang from his lair just as a tall
trooper in the Union blue shot into sight in the full glare of the
flames, sprang from his foaming steed, waving his hat and yelling,--
"All right! All safe, lads! Here we are!"
Down went Harvey's rifle as he leaped out into the blessed air to
greet the coming host. Down went Feeny's carbine as, with outstretched
hand, he sprang to grasp his comrade trooper's. With rush and thunder
of hoofs a band of horsemen came tearing up to the spot just as Feeny
reached their leader,--reached him and went down to earth, stunned,
senseless from a crashing blow, even as Ned Harvey, his legs jerked
from under him by the sudden clip of rawhide lariat, was dragged at
racing speed out over the plain, bumping over stick and stone, tearing
through cactus, screaming with rage and pain, until finally battered
into oblivion, the last sound that fell upon his ear was the shriek of
agony from his sisters' lips, telling him they were struggling in the
rude grasp of reckless and infuriated men.
VI.
Harvey could not long have lain unconscious. No bones were broken, no
severe concussion sustained in the rapid drag over the sandy surface,
and the awful sense of the calamity that had befallen him and the
dread and doubt as to the fate of his beloved ones seemed to rally his
stunned and bewildered faculties and bring him face to face with the
horror of the situation. Barely able to breathe, he found himself
rudely gagged. Striving to raise his hand to tear the hateful bandage
away, he found that he was pinioned by the elbows and bound hand and
foot by the very _riata_, probably, that had dragged him thither. No
doubt as to the nationality of his unseen captors here. The skill with
which he had been looped, tripped, whisked away, and bound,--the
sharp, biting edges, even the odor of dirty rawhide rope,--all told
him that though Americans were not lacking in the gang, his immediate
antagonists hailed from across the Sonora line. Who and what they were
mattered little, however. The fact that after hours of repulse in open
attack, the foe had all on a sudden carried their castle by a damnable
ruse was only too forcibly apparent. Writhing, struggling in
miserable effort to free himself from his bonds, poor Harvey's burning
eyes were maddened by the picture before him only a couple of hundred
yards away. There in the fierce light of the flames now bursting from
every window and roaring and shooting high in air from the
brush-heaped roof of Moreno's ranch,--there stood the Concord wagon,
stalwart men clinging to the heads of the plunging and excited mules,
a big ruffian already in the driver's seat, whip and reins in hand;
there beside it was the paymaster's ambulance, into which three of the
gang were just shoving the green-painted iron safe,--the Pandora's box
that had caused all their sorrows; there Moreno's California
buck-board, pressed into service and being used to carry the wounded,
drawn by the extra mules; and then--God of heaven! what a sight for
brother's eyes to see and make no sign!--then one big brute lifted
from the ground and handed up to a fellow already ensconced within the
covered wagon the senseless, perhaps lifeless, form of pretty little
Ruth, his father's idol. The poor child lay unresisting in the
ruffian's arms, but not so Paquita. It took two men, strong and burly,
to lift and force her into the dark interior, and one of those, to the
uttermost detail of his equipment, was to all appearance a trooper of
the United States cavalry. There stood his panting horse with hanging
head and jaded withers, the very steed whose rush they had welcomed
with such exceeding joy, saddled, bridled, blanketed, saddle-bagged,
lariated, side-lined, every item complete and exactly as issued by the
Ordnance Department. The trooper himself wore the field uniform of the
cavalry,--the dark-blue blouse, crossed by the black carbine sling,
whose big brass buckle Ned could even now see gleaming between the
broad shoulders, and gathered at the waist by the old-fashioned
"thimble belt" the troop saddlers used to make for field service
before the woven girdle was devised. Even more: Harvey in his misery
remembered the thrill of joy with which he had noted, as the splendid
rider reined in and threw himself from the saddle, the crossed sabres,
the troop letter "C," and the regimental number gleaming at the front
of his campaign hat. Who--who could this be, wearing the honorable
garb of a soldier of United States, yet figuring as a ringleader in a
band of robbers and assassins now adding rapine to their calendar of
crime? Edward Harvey's heart almost burst with helpless rage and
wretchedness when he saw his precious sisters dragged within the
canvas shelter,--saw the tall, uniformed brigand leap lightly after
them, and heard him shout to the ready driver, "Now, off with you!"
Crack! went the whip as the men sprang from the heads of the frantic
mules, and with a bound that nearly wrenched the trace-hooks from the
stout whippletree, the Concord went spinning over the sands to the
south, whirling so near him that over the thud of hoofs and whirl of
wheels and creak of spring and wood-work he could hear poor Fanny's
despairing cry,--the last sound he was aware of for hours, for now in
dead earnest Harvey swooned away.
Half an hour later, the rafters of the ranch having by this time
tumbled in and turned the interior into a glowing furnace, there came
riding from the west a slender skirmish line of horsemen in the worn
campaign dress of the regular cavalry. With the advance there were not
more than six or eight, a tall, slender lieutenant leading them on and
signalling his instructions. With carbines advanced, with eyes peering
out from under the jagged hat-brims, the veteran troopers came loping
into the light of the flames, expectant every instant of hearing the
crack of outlaw's rifle, or perhaps the hiss of feathered arrow of
unseen foe. Though some of the steeds looked hot and wearied, the big
raw-boned sorrel that carried the young commander tugged at his bit
and bounded impatiently as though eager for the signal--"charge."
Straight into the circle of light, straight to the southern entrance,
now a gate of flame, the soldier rode and loudly hailed "Moreno!"
But hissing, snapping wood-work alone replied. Guided by an
experienced sergeant, some of the troopers, never halting, rode on
into the eastward darkness, and there were stationed as videttes to
guard against surprise. Returning to where he had passed his
lieutenant, the sergeant dismounted, allowing his weary horse to
stand, and then began minute examination. Following the freshest
hoof-tracks, he found the young officer riding about through the thick
smoke within the corral.
"Any sign of Moreno or his people, sir?" he hailed.
"Not yet. Just see what's beyond that door-way. My horse is frightened
at something there and I can't see for the smoke."
Obedient, the sergeant pushed ahead, bending low to avoid the stifling
fumes. Between the tumbled-down heap of barley-sacks and the crumbling
wall lay some writhing objects in the sand, and his stout heart almost
failed him at the moan of agony that met his ear.
"Help! water! Oh, for Christ's sake, water!"
One bound carried him out of sight of his superior. The next instant,
dragging by the foot a prostrate form, he emerged from the bank into
the fresher air of the centre of the corral. Off came his canteen and
was held to the parched lips of a stranger in scorched civilian dress,
his beard and hair singed by the flames, his legs and arms securely
bound.
"Who are you and what's happened? Whose work is this?" demanded the
lieutenant, leaping from saddle to his side. The man seemed swooning
away, but the sergeant dashed water in his face.
"Quick!--the others!--or they'll burn to death."
"What others? Where, man?" exclaimed the soldiers, springing to their
feet.
"Oh! somewhere in there,--the far end of the corral--or Moreno's west
room," was the gasping reply.
Another rush into the whirling, eddying smoke, another search along
under the wall, and presently in the flickering light the rescuing
pair came upon a barrier of barley-sacks, burning in places from huge
flakes of fire falling from the blazing rafters of the overhanging
shed, and behind this, senseless, suffocated, helplessly bound, two
other forms. Thrusting the sacks aside, the troopers seized and
dragged forth their hapless fellow-creatures. Jarred by sudden
pressure, a burning upright snapped. There was a crackling, crashing
sound, and down came the rafters, sending another column of flame to
light up the features of men rescued not an instant too soon from the
death that awaited them.
"My God!" cried Sergeant Lee, "this is old Feeny,--and yet alive."
Together the two raised the senseless form, bore it out into the open
space, laid it gently beside their first discovery, and ran back for
the next, a big, heavy, bulky shape in loose and blood-stained
garments. It took all their strength to lug it forth. Then the
lieutenant bent by the side of the slowly recovering civilian.
"Are there any more we can reach?" he questioned eagerly, his heart
beating madly.
"No,--too late!--others were inside when the roof fell in. More
water,--more water!"
Sergeant Lee sprang to the _ollas_, gleaming there in the fire-light,
and brought back a brimming dipper, holding it to the poor fellow's
parched lips until he could drink no more, then slashing away the
thongs with which he was bound.
"This is Greaser work," he cried. "How could they have left you alive?
Where are Moreno's people? Who's done this, anyhow?"
"Pasqual Morales. Moreno was in it, too. 'Twas the paymaster they were
laying for; but they've killed Ned Harvey and got his sisters,--old
Harvey's children--from Tucson."
"What?" cried the officer, leaping to his feet. "Harvey's daughters
here?--here? Man, are you mad?"
"It's God's truth! Oh, if I had a drop of the whiskey that's being
burned in there! I'm nigh dead."
"Run to my saddle-bags, Lee; fetch that flask, quick; then call in the
men and send one back to hurry up the rest. Where have they gone? What
have they done with their captives?"
"God knows! I could hear them screaming and praying,--those poor
girls! Mullan and the pay-clerk picked up Feeny after he was stunned
and they rushed him back through here, where the paymaster had dragged
himself, to where you found him. That--that's the paymaster you've got
there. Then they tried to save a drunken soldier while all the gang
seemed crowding after the safe and the girls, but they were shot down
inside, and must have burned to death if they wasn't killed. Oh, God,
what a night!" And weak, unstrung, unmanned, the poor fellow sobbed
aloud.
At this instant there rode into the corral a couple of troopers.
"Lieutenant Drummond here?" cried one of them. "We've found a man out
on the plain to the southeast, gagged and bound. Shall we fetch him
in?"