Watch was set that night as usual, but it came on so pitchy dark that
nothing could be made out distinctly a yard away. Bart was with the
Beaver and Joses in their old place in the gallery, fortunately
well-sheltered by the rock overhead, for the rain came down in torrents,
and gurgled loudly as it rushed in and out of the crevices of the rock,
finding its way to the plains.
"How uneasy the cattle seem!" said Bart once, as they could be heard
lowing down below in the darkness.
"'Nough to make 'em," said Joses, with a chuckle; "they'll have got wet
through to-night, and I daresay there'll be water enough in the stable
for the horses to nearly swim."
"What a night for the Apaches!" said Bart after a pause, as they
crouched there listening to the hiss and roar of the falling waters.
"Suppose they were to come; we would never see them."
"But they wouldn't in a night like this," replied Joses. "Would they,
Beaver?"
"Beaver don't know. Beaver think much," replied the chief. "He and his
men would come if they wanted their enemies' horses; but perhaps the
Apaches are dogs and cowards, and would fear the rain."
Towards morning the rain ceased, and with the rising sun the clouds
cleared away, the sun shining out brilliantly; and as the Beaver
strained over the stones to get a good look into the corral, he uttered
a hoarse cry.
"What's wrong?" cried Bart and Joses, starting up from their wearying
cramped position.
"Cattle gone!" cried the Beaver; and a moment later, "Horses are gone!"
It was too true; for, taking advantage of the darkness and the heavy
rain, the Apaches had sent in a party of their cleverest warriors, who
had quietly removed the barriers of rock, and the cattle had followed
their natural instinct, and gone quietly out to the last hoof, the
horses the same, making their way down to the pastures, where, at the
first breaking of day, there was a strong band of mounted men ready to
drive them right away into the plain, where the Beaver pointed them out
miles away, moving slowly in the bright sunshiny morning.
The alarm was given, but nothing could be done, and the Doctor looked
with dismay at the lowering faces of the men who had agreed to follow
his fortunes out there into the wilderness.
"You never said that we should meet with enemies like this," said one
man, threateningly. "You said you'd bring us where silver was in
plenty, that was all."
"And have I not?" cried the Doctor, sharply. "There, now, get to your
work; we have plenty of food and water, and we are relieved of the care
of our horses and cattle. The Apaches will not interfere with us
perhaps now, and when they have gone, we must communicate with Lerisco,
and get more cattle. Have we not silver enough to buy all the cattle in
the province?"
This quieted the complainers, and they went quietly to their tasks,
getting out the ore in large quantities, though it was, of course,
impossible to touch the vein in the canyon. That had to be reserved for
more peaceful times.
It almost seemed as if the Doctor was right, and that the Apaches would
go away contented now; but when Bart asked the Beaver for his opinion,
he only laughed grimly.
"As long as we are here they will come," he said. "They will never stay
away."
"That's pleasant, Joses," said Bart; and then he began to bemoan the
loss of his little favourite, Black Boy.
"Ah! it's a bad job, my lad," said Joses, philosophically; "but when you
go out into the wilderness, you never know what's coming. For my part,
I don't think I should ever take to silver-getting as a trade."
It was a serious matter this loss of the horses and cattle, but somehow
the Indians seemed to bear it better than the whites. Whatever they
felt they kept to themselves, stolidly bearing their trouble, while the
Englishmen and Mexicans never ceased to murmur and complain.
"How is it, Joses?" asked Bart one day, as they two were keeping guard
by the gate. "One would think that the Indians would feel it more than
any one else."
"Well, yes, my lad, one would think so; but don't you see how it is? An
Indian takes these things coolly, for this reason; his horse is stolen
to-day, to-morrow his turn will come, and he'll carry off perhaps a
dozen horses belonging to some one else."
Their task was easy, for the Apaches seemed to have forsaken them in
spite of the Beaver's prophecy, and several days went by in peace, not a
sign being discovered of the enemy. The little colony worked hard at
getting silver, and this proved to be so remunerative, that there was no
more murmuring about the loss of the cattle and horses; but all the
same, Bart saw that the Doctor went about in a very moody spirit, for he
knew that matters could not go on as they were. Before long they must
have fresh stores, and it was absolutely necessary for communications to
be opened up with Lerisco if they were to exist at the mountain.
"I don't know what is to be done, Bart," the Doctor said one day. "I
cannot ask the Indians to go without horses, and if a message is not
conveyed to the governor asking him for help, the time will come, and is
not far distant, when we shall be in a state of open revolution, because
the men will be starving."
"Not so bad as that, sir," cried Bart.
"Yes, my dear boy, it is as bad as that I begin to repent of coming upon
this silver expedition, for I am very helpless here with these wretched
savages to mar all my plans."
It was the very next morning that, after being on guard at the gate all
night, Bart was thinking of the times when, for the sake of protecting
the cattle, they had kept guard in the gallery over the corral and by
the cavern stable, when, out in the bright sunshine at the foot of the
mountain, he saw a sight which made him rub his eyes and ask himself
whether he was dreaming.
For there, calmly cropping what herbage he could find, was his old
favourite who had carried him so often and so well--Black Boy.
"He must have escaped," cried Bart excitedly, "or else it is a trap to
get us to go out, and the Indians are waiting for us."
With this idea in his mind he called Joses and the Beaver, showing them
the little horse, and they both agreeing that it was no trap or plan on
the Indians' part, Bart eagerly ran out and called the docile little
steed, which came trotting up and laid its soft muzzle in his hand.
"If he could only have coaxed the others into coming with him," said
Bart, "we should have been all right;" and leading his favourite up to
the gateway, he coaxed it to enter and climb carefully up over the
rugged stones till it was well in a state of safety, for he felt that he
dared not risk leaving it outside.
It was almost absurd to see the curious way in which the little horse
placed one foot before another, pawing at the road to make sure of its
being safe before he trusted it and planted it firmly down, and so on
with the others; but Bart's word seemed to give him confidence, and step
by step he climbed up till he was in the spot where his master intended
him to stay, when he gave a loud snort as if of relief, and stood
perfectly still while he was haltered to a peg.