fight. Yelling orders and curses at his driver, he succeeded in
getting him to control his frantic team just long enough to enable the
outlaw captain to tumble out. Then away they dashed again, the
stiffening body of Ramon and the weighty little safe being now sole
occupants of the interior. In the mad excitement of the first rush two
or three horses had broken loose, leaving their owners afoot, and
believing that no quarter would be the rule, these abandoned roughs
were fighting to the last, selling their lives, as they called it, as
dearly as possible. From their rifles and from others the shots rained
fast upon the troopers, but never seemed to check the charge. The rush
was glorious. Drawing their revolvers now, for they carried no sabres,
the soldiers fired as they rode down those would-be obstructers, and
two poor wretches were flattened out upon the plain when the main body
of the troop dashed by, making straight for the fleeing Concord with
the white canvas top. Drummond had not fired at all. Every thought was
concentrated on the occupants of the wagon. Every shot might be needed
when he got to them. "Chester" was running grandly. The designated
four who were to follow the lieutenant were already over a hundred
yards behind when, from the trail of the ambulance, from a little
patch of cactus, there came a flash and report, and the beautiful
horse swerved, reeled, but pushed gamely on. Noting the spot, two of
the following troopers emptied a cartridge into the clump, but left
the lurking foe to be looked after later. They were too close to the
Concord to think of anything else,--so close they could hear the cries
and pleadings of a woman's voice, the terrified scream of another, and
then, all on a sudden, "Chester" pitched heavily forward, and, even as
the wagon came to a sudden stand, the gallant steed rolled over and
over, his rider underneath him.
When Lieutenant Drummond regained his senses he found himself unable
to believe them. Conscious at first only of being terribly bruised and
shaken, he realized that he was being borne along in some wheeled
vehicle, moving with slow and decorous pace over a soft yet unbeaten
and irregular trail. Conscious of fierce white light and heat about
him on every side, he was aware of a moist, cool, dark bandage over
his eyes that prevented him from seeing. Striving to raise a hand to
sweep the blinding cloth away, he met rebellion. A sudden spasm of
pain that made him wince, the quick contraction of his features, the
low moan of distress, were answered instantly by a most surprising
wail in a sweet girlish voice.
"Oh, Fanny, see how he suffers! Can't something be done?"
And then--could he be mistaken?--soft, slender fingers were caressing
the close-cropped hair about his temples. A glow of delight and
rejoicing thrilled through his frame as he realized that the main
object of the fierce and determined pursuit was accomplished, that the
precious freight was rescued from the robber band, and that
somehow--somehow he himself was now a prisoner.
Striving to move his head, he found it softly, warmly pillowed; but as
he attempted to turn, it was held in place by two little hands, one on
each side. Then as he found his voice and faintly protested that he
was all right and wanted to look about him, another hand quickly
removed the bandage, and Fanny Harvey's lovely face, pale and framed
with much dishevelled hair, was bending anxiously over him; but a
smile of hope, even of joy, was parting the soft lips as she saw the
light of returning reason in his eyes. At this same instant, too, the
hands that supported his face were suddenly drawn away, and his pillow
became unstable. One quick glance told him the situation. The seats of
the Concord had been lifted out, blankets had been spread within; he
was lying at full length, his aching head supported in Ruth Harvey's
lap. Fanny, her elder sister, was seated facing him, but at his side.
No wonder Jim Drummond could not quite believe his senses.
It was Fanny who first recovered her self-poise. Throwing back the
hanging curtain at the side, she called aloud,--
"Mr. Wing, come to us! He's conscious."
And the next instant the slow motion of the wagon ceased, the door was
wrenched open, and there in the glowing sunshine stood the tall
sergeant whom he last had seen when scouting through Picacho Pass.
"Bravo, lieutenant! You're all right, though you must be in some pain.
Can you stand a little more? We're close to the caves now,--cool water
and cool shade not five hundred yards ahead."
"How did you get here, sergeant?" Drummond weakly questioned. "Where
are the others?"
"Followed on your trail, sir, Private Pike and I. Most of the men are
gathering up prisoners and plunder. You've made the grandest haul in
all the history of Arizona. I got up only just in time to see the
charge, and Pike's now on his way back already with the good news. We
are taking you and the ladies to the refuge in the rocks where Morales
and all his people have hid so long. Old Moreno, with a lariat around
his neck, is showing the way."
"Got him, did you? I'm glad of that. There was another,--a deserter
from my troop; did you see anything of him?"
"I haven't heard yet, sir. One thing's certain, old Pasqual is with
his hopeful brother in another if not a better world. 'Twas he that
killed poor 'Chester,' the worst loss we've met. Not a man is hit, and
by daybreak to-morrow Dr. Day from Stoneman will be here to
straighten you out, and these young ladies' father here to thank you."
"Thank you, Mr. Drummond? Ah, how can he or I ever begin to thank you
and your brave fellows half enough? I had lost all hope until that
disguised bandit suddenly leaped from the wagon, and Ruth was swooning
again, but she heard your voice before I did. 'Twas she who saw your
charge." And Fanny Harvey's lips quivered as she spoke, and the voice
that was so brave at the siege became weak and tremulous now.
Drummond closed his eyes a moment. It was all too sweet to be
believed. His right hand, to be sure, refused to move, his left stole
up and began groping back of his head.
"May I not thank my nurse?" he said. "The first thing I was conscious
of was her touch upon my forehead."
But the hands that were so eager, so active when their patient lay
unconscious, seemed to shrink from the long, brown fingers searching
blindly for them, and not one word had the maiden vouchsafed.
"I heard your voice a moment ago, Ruthie. Can't you speak to me now?"
he asked, half chiding, half laughing. "Have you forgotten your friend
Jim Drummond and the long, long talks we used to have on the
'Newbern'?"
Forgotten Jim Drummond and those long talks indeed! Forgotten her
hero, her soldier! Hardly. Yet no word would she speak.
"The little lady seems all unstrung yet, lieutenant. Miss Fanny will
have to talk for her, I fancy." And Wing's clear, handsome eyes were
raised to Miss Harvey's face as he spoke in a look that seemed to tell
how much he envied the soldier who was the object of such devoted
attention. "Shall we move ahead? The others will join us later on."
But when a few minutes later strong arms lifted the tall lieutenant
from the wagon and bore him to a blanket-covered shelter in a deep
rocky recess where the sun's rays seemed rarely to penetrate, and a
cup of clear, cool water was held to his lips, Drummond's one
available hand was uplifted in hopes of capturing the ministering
fingers. There was neither difficulty nor resistance. It was Sergeant
Wing's gauntlet, and Wing's cordial voice again accosted him.
"Glad to see you so chipper, lieutenant. Now, I have some little
knowledge of surgery. Your right arm is broken below the elbow, and
you're badly shocked and bruised. I have no doubt the surgeon will be
with us by this time to-morrow, but I can set that arm just as soon as
I have looked the ground over and disposed of ourselves and our
prisoners to the best advantage."
"How many prisoners have we?" asked Drummond.
"Well, as yet, only Moreno and his interesting family and two of their
gang, who are very badly wounded. Some of the others were neither
prompt nor explicit about surrendering, and the men seem to have been
a trifle impatient in one or two cases. You should hear the old woman
protesting to Miss Harvey her innocence and her husband's spotless
character. You understand Spanish, do you not?"
"No, only the smattering we pick up at the Point and what 'broncho'
Spanish I have added to it out here. Where did you learn it, sergeant?
They tell me you speak it like a native."
Wing's sunburned face--a fine, clear-cut, and manly one it was--seemed
to grow a shade or two redder.
"Oh, I have spoken it many years. My boyhood was spent on the Pacific
slope. Pardon me, sir, I want to look more carefully after your
injuries now."
"But the ladies, where are they?" asked Drummond, uneasily.
"Occupying the sanctum sanctorum, the innermost shrine among the
rocks. This is a wonderful spot, sir. We might eventually have starved
these people out if once they got here, but ten determined soldiers
could hold it against ten hundred. I've as yet had only a glance, but
the Morenos have been here before, it is most evident, for the
señorita herself showed Miss Harvey into the cave reserved for the
women. There they have cool water, cool and fresh air, and complete
shelter."
And now, as with experienced hands the sergeant stripped off
Drummond's hunting-shirt and carefully exposed the bruised and
lacerated arm and shoulder, he plied his patient with questions as to
whether he felt any internal pain or soreness. "How a man could be
flattened out and rolled over by such a weight and not be mashed into
a jelly is what I can't understand. You're about as elastic as ivory,
lieutenant, and you have no spare flesh about you either. That and the
good luck of the cavalryman saved you from worse fate. You've got a
battered head, a broken arm, and had the breath knocked out of you,
and that's about all. But we'll have you on your feet by the time the
fellows come from Stoneman."
"But how about the young ladies?" again asked Drummond, wearily and
anxiously, for his head was still heavy and painful and his anxiety
great. He was weak, too, from the shock. "Won't they suffer meantime?"
"Well, they might,--at least Miss Ruth, the younger, might in the
reaction after their fearful experience; but I'm something of a
doctor, as I said, and I shall be able to prevent all that."
"How?"
"Well, by giving her something to do. Just as soon as they've had a
chance to rest, both young ladies will be put on duty. Miss Ruth is to
nurse you."
"Suppose she doesn't want to?"
"The case isn't supposable, lieutenant. She would have gone into
hysterics this morning, I think, had she not been detailed, as a
preventive, to hold your head. At all events, she quieted down the
instant she was told by her sister to climb into the wagon again and
sit still as a mouse and see that your face was kept cool and moist
and shaded from the glare." And now Sergeant Wing's lips were
twitching with merriment, and Drummond, hardly knowing how to account
for his embarrassment, asked no more. His amateur surgeon, however,
chatted blithely on.
"There's an abundant store of provisions here, dried meat, frijoles,
chile, chocolate.--You shall have a cup in a moment.--There's
ammunition in plenty. There's even a keg of mescal, which, saving your
presence, sir, as I am temporary commander, shall be hidden before the
men begin coming in with their prisoners. There's barley in abundance
for horses and mules; water to drink and water to bathe in. We could
hardly be better off anywhere."
Drummond looked curiously about him, so far as was possible without
moving his pain-stricken head. He was lying in a deep recess in some
dark and rocky cañon whose sides were vertical walls. Tumbling down
from the wooded heights above--rare sight in Arizona--a little brook
of clear, sparkling water came brawling and plashing over its stony
bed at his feet and went on down the gorge to its opening on the sandy
plain. There, presumably, it burrowed into the bosom of the earth, for
no vestige of running stream could the Cababi Valley show. The walls
about him were in places grimy with the smoke of cook fires. Overhead,
not fifty feet away, a gnarled and stunted little cedar jutted out
from some crevice in the rocks and stood at the edge of the cliff. A
soldier was clinging to it with one hand and pointing out towards the
east with the other. Drummond recognized the voice as that of one of
his own troop when the man called out,--
"Two of our fellers are coming with the old yellow ambulance,
sergeant; but I can't see the others."
"All right, Patterson. Try to see where the rest have gone and what
they're doing. I'll send the glass up to you presently. What I'm
afraid of, lieutenant, is that in their rage over Donovan's death, and
Mullan's, and all the devil's work done there at Moreno's, and your
mishap, too, the men have become uncontrollable, and will never let up
on the pursuit until they have killed the last one of that gang. These
two who are coming in with the bodies of the Morales brothers
probably have worn-out horses, or perhaps Lee ordered them to stay and
guard the safe. The last I saw of any of the gang they were
disappearing over the desert to the south, striking for Sonora Pass."
"I wonder they didn't all come in here," said Drummond.
"Well, hardly that, lieutenant. They knew they would be followed here,
penned up, where their capture would only be a question of time. A
hundred cavalrymen would be around them in a very few hours, and we
could send to Lowell for those old mountain howitzers and just
leisurely shell them out. Then, when they surrendered,--as they'd have
to,--the civil authorities would immediately step in and claim
jurisdiction, claim the prisoners, too. We'd simply have to turn them
over to justice as a matter of course, and you know, and they know,
that the only judge apt to sit on their case would be that of our
eminent frontiersman and fellow-citizen,--Lynch. They are scattering
like Apaches through the mountains and will reassemble and count noses
later on. Thanks to you and 'C' troop, they have lost all they had
gained and their leaders besides. No, sir, they won't stop this side
of the Mexican line."
"There's one, Wing, I hope to heaven they'll never lose sight of till
they run him down."
"Who's that, sir?"
"The fellow who was enlisted in 'C' troop last winter at Tucson and
who deserted last night to join this gang. He drove for the stage
company last year and was discharged. He gave his name as Bland."
"Bland! Henry Bland!" exclaimed Sergeant Wing, leaping to his feet in
uncontrollable excitement. "Do you mean it, sir? Had he enlisted? Do
you mean that he was the man Miss Harvey spoke of,--the disguised
soldier she called him?"
And Drummond, amazed at Wing's emotion, gazed up to see the sergeant's
features working almost convulsively, his face paling, his eyes full
of intense anxiety.
"Why, I cannot doubt it, sergeant. He ran away from us on the
discovery of Donovan's body and rode straight for Moreno's, beating us
there probably by an hour or so, for no one happened to miss him."
Wing's hands were raised on high in a gesture almost tragic, then
dropped helplessly by his side. With a stifled groan the tall soldier
turned abruptly away and went striding towards the opening of the
cañon, leaving Drummond wondering and perplexed.
When, quarter of an hour later, the sergeant returned, bringing with
him some improvised splints and bandages, and Drummond believed it his
duty to make inquiry as to whether he knew Bland and what was the
cause of his excitement, Wing turned his grave, troubled face and
looked his young superior straight in the eye.
"Mr. Drummond, I have known that man for good and for ill many a long
year. If our fellows have killed him, let his crimes die with him. If
he is brought in alive,--brought to trial,--I may have to speak, but
not now, sir. Bear with me, lieutenant,--not now."
Was Drummond dreaming? He could have declared that tears were starting
in the sergeant's eyes as he turned hastily away, unable for the
moment to continue the setting and bandaging of the broken arm.
"Take your own time, Wing," said the young officer, gently. "Speak or
keep silent as you will. You have earned the right." And the sergeant
mutely thanked him.
The primitive surgery of the frontier took little time, and, with his
arm comfortably and closely slung, Drummond lay impatient for the
coming of his men, impatient perhaps to hear a softer voice, to feel
again the light touch of slender fingers, yet in his weakness and
exhaustion dropping slowly off to sleep. All efforts to keep awake
proved vain. His heavy eyelids closed, and presently he was in
dreamland.
Meantime Sergeant Wing had busied himself in many a way. First he had
gone to loosen old Moreno's bonds,--enough, at least, to relieve his
pain yet hold him securely. The soldier sitting drowsily on the rock
beside the prisoner gladly accepted permission to put aside his
carbine and go to sleep.
"I'll watch him, Mat," said Wing. "You lie down there, Moreno, and see
to it that you make no effort to slip a knot while I'm at work here.
How far away is that ambulance now, Patterson?" he called to the man
on lookout.
"Halted down at the edge of the plain, sergeant. That's where they
struck water first, and I reckon they couldn't make up their minds to
come farther. I can make out one or two of the fellows coming back far
down the desert to the south. Horses played out probably."
"Anything to be seen across the valley along the trail we came?"
"Nothing, sir; not a puff of dust. But here's something I don't
understand--off here in the range south of us--well up towards the
top."
"What's that?" asked Wing, dropping the coil of lariat he held in his
hand and looking quickly up.
"Well, it's more like signal-smoke than anything else. Just exactly
such smoke as we have seen in the Chiricahua and Catarinas and ----
Well, just come up here with your field-glass, if you can, sergeant. I
believe there's an answer to it way down to the southeast,--t'other
side of the valley."
In an instant Wing turned. "Sorry for you, Señor Moreno," he grimly
muttered. "But as only two men are with me and both are otherwise
engaged, I'll have to secure you temporarily. It isn't pleasant, but
it serves you right."
In vain the Mexican pleaded and protested. A rawhide _riata_ was wound
and looped about him in a few scientific turns and he was left
reclining against the rock, conquered yet inwardly raging, while Wing
stole in to Drummond's rude couch, slipped the field-glass from its
case, then, with a longing look into the darker depths beyond, and a
moment's hesitation, he stepped to the projecting rock that seemed to
divide the cave into two apartments and called in lower tone, "Miss
Harvey."
"Here, Mr. Wing. What is wanted?"
And at the instant, prompt, alert, even smiling, Fanny Harvey appeared
before him. The pallor was gone. The dishevelled hair had been twisted
into shape. Food, rest, relief from dread and misery, and that little
appreciated beautifier, fresh water, had wrought their transformation
here. Wing's handsome eyes glistened as he removed his hat.
"I have to go up to that point yonder a few minutes, leaving old
Moreno alone, bound, to be sure, but his wife or daughter might slip
out and release him. Will you have the goodness--to take this--and
shoot him if they should make the attempt?" And he handed her his
pistol.
"I'll see to it that no one interferes with him, Mr. Wing. What has
happened? Are the others coming?" And she took the revolver, balancing
it in her accustomed and practised hand. The admiration deepened in
Wing's gaze.
"I see you handle a pistol as though you had used one. You're a true
frontiersman's daughter. I'll have to be away for a few minutes. I'm
going up to look from our rock above there. Some of our men, they say,
are in sight slowly returning, and the paymaster's ambulance is only a
mile away, probably waiting for the rest of the party. How is Miss
Ruth?"
"Sleeping like a baby, bless her heart."
"Well, I have promised Mr. Drummond that she should be his nurse. I
hope you will consent. He is sleeping, too. No fever yet, I am
thankful to say."
"Ruth will be ready, and so will I, to help in any way we can. But
when are you to have a rest, may I ask?"
"O-oh--by and by. Lee and the others must have theirs first. They have
been in saddle much longer and farther than I. When is Miss Harvey to
have _her_ rest, may _I_ ask?"
"We-l-l, I don't know. I'll say, 'perhaps by and by' too. Look! that
man is calling you."
Whirling about, Wing saw his sentinel beckoning, and in a moment he
went clambering up the rocky trail, active as a mountain Apache.
"What is it, Patterson?"
"It _is_ signal-smoke, sir, across the valley. That ain't more than
eight miles away, and down here in the range ain't more than six. What
Indians could be out here, I would like to know? Do they grow
everywhere in this infernal country?"
Wing took his glasses and long and earnestly studied the bluish-white
clouds rising in puffs, faint and barely distinguishable in the
opposite heights, then fixed his gaze upon the filmy column soaring up
among the dark pines at the heart of the range to the southward. His
face grew graver every minute.
"Stay here and watch," he said. "I must go and get those other men in
with the ambulance. Of course if it is Apaches, they've sighted that
party and the few men straggling back, and those signals mean, 'close
on them.' I'll send the team right in and then ride and hurry the
other fellows out."
The sun was retiring behind the Cababi Range as Wing went leaping down
the trail.
"Sorry for you, Dick, old boy," he said to his horse, who was drowsing
in the shade. "More work for us both now."
Never stopping to saddle, he leaped upon the bare, brown back and went
clattering down the cañon.
"Keep your eye on Moreno, there!" he shouted up to the lookout. "If he
tries to slip away, shoot him."
Ten minutes' brisk gallop through the windings of the gorge brought
him to the edge of the sandy plain. There, under a little clump of
willows, was the ambulance, its mules unhitched and hoppled securely,
nibbling placidly at such scant herbage as they could find. The horses
of the two guards, unsaddled, were drooping in the shade, too tired to
hunt for anything to eat.
"Saddle up, men. Hitch in and get that team to the head of the cañon,
lively now," was his brief order to the sleepy trooper who greeted
him, carbine in hand.
"What's up, sergeant?" queried another, springing out from the
willows. "Lee told us to wait here, or wherever we could find shade
and water."
"Wait? How long and what for?"
"Blessed if I know how long. None of 'em ain't in sight from here
coming back; but 'what for' is easy to answer. The paymaster's chest."
"The paymaster's chest?" cried Wing. "Why, isn't that here in the
ambulance?"
"Not a hinge of it. Those Greasers swapped it onto an _apparejo_ while
we were all running for Harvey's daughters. The money's half-way to
Sonora by this time."
IX.
Peaceful as was his rest, Drummond slept only an hour or so. For
months he had lived in the open air, "on the war-path" said his
captain, a veteran who had won his spurs twice over in the war of the
rebellion, and declared himself quite ready to take his ease now and
let the youngsters see for themselves the hollowness of military
glory. Weariness and physical exhaustion had lent their claims, and
despite bruises and many a pang, despite the realization of the
presence of the fair girls whom his dash and energy had rescued from
robber hands, the young fellow had dozed away into dreamland. Why not?
The object of his mission was accomplished. Fanny and Ruth Harvey were
safe. All that was left for the party to do now was rest in quiet
until another morn, then it would be quite possible to start on the
return without waiting for the coming of their friends. Before sunset
his men would be reassembled; they could have a long night's sleep,
and with the rising of the morrow's sun, convoying their three wagons
and their recaptured treasures, the little detachment would take the
back track for the Tucson road, confident of meeting "old Harvey"
and, probably, a doctor on the way. He himself, though most in need of
surgical attention when they reached the caves, had such confidence in
the skill of Sergeant Wing as to feel that his arm was set as
perfectly as could be done by almost any other practitioner, and
before dropping off to sleep had quite determined that he would make
the morning march in saddle.
Still, he could not sleep for any great length of time. The instinct
of vigilance and the sense of responsibility would not leave him. In
his half-dreaming, half-waking state, he once thought he heard a light
foot-fall, and presently as he dozed with eyelids shut there came a
soft touch upon his temple. Lifting his hand he seized that of his
visitor,--Fanny Harvey.
"Why are you not resting?" he asked, "and where is Ruth?"
"Ruth is sleeping, as we hoped you might be. 'Tired Nature's sweet
restorer' is all you need, Mr. Drummond, yet you do not seem to have
had more than a cat nap. Twice I have stolen in here to see you, and
then, though I was fearful of waking you, you slept peacefully through
it all."
"Well, I must have slept a couple of hours anyway, and I slept soundly
until within the last few minutes. Have none of the men got back yet,
Miss Harvey? Do you know what time it is? I suppose Wing is
sleeping."