"Are you ready to come, Bart? The governor is waiting."
"Yes--no, yes--no," cried Bart, in confusion, as he ran and opened the
door. "I cannot come, Maude. Tell them I cannot come."
"You cannot come!" she cried, wonderingly. "And why not, pray?"
"Why not! Just look at my miserable clothes. I'm only fit to go and
have dinner with the greasers."
Maude laughed and took hold of his hand.
"You don't know what our friends are like," she said, merrily. "They
know how bravely you rode over the plains with dear father's message,
and they don't expect you to be dressed in velvet and silver like a
Mexican Don. Come along, sir, at once."
"Must I?" said Bart, shrinkingly.
"Must you! Why, of course, you foolish fellow! What does it matter
about your clothes?"
Bart thought that it mattered a great deal, but he said no more, only
ruefully followed Maude into the next room, where he met with so
pleasantly cordial a reception that he forgot all his troubles about
garments, and thoroughly enjoyed the meal spread before him whenever he
could drag his mind away from thoughts of the Doctor in the desert
waiting for help.
Then he had to relate all his adventures to the governor's lady, who,
being childless, seemed to have made Maude fill the vacancy in her
affections.
And so the time faded away, there being so much in Bart's modest
narrative of his adventures that evening arrived before he could believe
the fact, and this was succeeded by so long and deep a sleep, that it
was several hours after sunrise before the lad awoke, feeling grieved
and ashamed that he should have slept so calmly there while his friends
were in such distress.
Springing from his couch, and having a good bath, he found to his great
delight that all the weary stiffness had passed away, that he was bright
and vigorous as ever, and ready to spring upon his horse at any time.
This made him think of Black Boy, to whose stable he hurried, the brave
little animal greeting him with a snort that sounded full of welcome,
while he rattled and tugged at his halter, and seemed eager to get out
once more into the open.
The cob had been well groomed and fed, and to his master's great joy
seemed to be no worse than when he started for his long journey to
Lerisco. In fact, when Bart began to examine him attentively, so far
from being exhausted or strained, the cob was full of play, pawing
gently at his master and playfully pretending to bite, neighing loudly
his disgust afterwards when he turned to leave the stables.
"There! be patient, old lad," he said, turning back to pat the little
nag's glossy arched neck once more; "I'll soon be back. Eat away and
rest, for you've got another long journey before you."
Whither Black Boy understood his master's words or not, it is impossible
to say.
What! Is it ridiculous to suppose such a thing?
Perhaps so, most worthy disputant; but you cannot prove that the nag did
not understand.
At all events, he thrust his velvety nose into the Indian-corn that had
been placed for his meal, and went on contentedly crunching up the
flinty grain, while Bart hurried away now to see how the preparations
for starting were going on; for he felt, he could not explain why,
neglectful of his friend's interests.
To his great delight, he found that great progress had been made: a
dozen waggons had been filled with stores, thirty horses had been
provided with drivers and caretakers, and a troop of fifty lancers, with
their baggage-waggons and an ample supply of ammunition, were being
prepared for their march, their captain carefully inspecting his men's
accoutrements the while.
A finer body of bronzed and active men it would have been impossible to
select. Every one was armed with a short heavy bore rifle, a keen
sabre, and a long sharply pointed lance; while their horses were the
very perfection of chargers, swift, full of bone and sinew, and looking
as if, could their riders but get a chance, four times the number of
Indians would go down before them like dry reeds in a furious gale.
"Are you only going to take fifty?" said Bart to the captain.
"That's all, my lad," was the reply. "Is it not enough?"
"There must have been five hundred Indians before the camp," replied
Bart.
"Well, that's only ten times as many," said the captain laughingly,
"Fifty are more than enough for such an attack, for we have discipline
on our side, while they are only a mob. Don't you be afraid, my boy. I
daresay we shall prove too many for them."
"I am not afraid," said Bart, stoutly; "but I don't want to see your
party overwhelmed."
"And you shall not see it overwhelmed, my boy," replied the captain.
"Do you see this sabre?"
"Yes," said Bart, gazing with interest at the keen weapon the officer
held out for his inspection. "It looks very sharp."
"Well," said the captain, smiling, "experience has taught that this is a
more dangerous weapon than the great heavy two-handed swords men used to
wield. Do you know why?"
"Oh! yes," cried Bart; "while a man was swinging round a great
two-handed sword, you could jump in and cut him down, or run him through
with that."
"Exactly," said the captain, "and that's why I only take fifty men with
me into the desert instead of two hundred. My troop of fifty represent
this keen sharp sword, with which blade I can strike and thrust at the
Indians again and again, when a larger one would be awkward and slow.
Do you see?"
"Ye-e-es!" said Bart, hesitating.
"You forget, my boy, how difficult it is to carry stores over the plain.
All these waggons have to go as it is, and my experience teaches me
that the lighter an attacking party is the better, especially when it
has to deal with Indians."
"And have these men ever fought with Indians?"
"A dozen--a score of times," replied the captain. "Ah! here is our
friend the governor. Why, he is dressed up as if he meant to ride part
of the way with us."
"Ah! captain! Well, my young Indian runner," said the governor,
laughing, "are you ready for another skirmish?"
"Yes, sir, I'm ready now," said Bart promptly. "I can saddle up in five
minutes."
"I shall be ready at sunset," said the captain. "My men are ready now."
"I've made up my mind to go with you," said the governor.
"You, sir?" cried Bart.
"Yes, my lad. I want to see the silver canyon and your mountain
fortress. And besides, it seems to me that a brush with the Indians
will do me good. I want them to have a severe lesson, for they are
getting more daring in their encroachments every day. Can you make room
for me?"
The captain expressed his delight, and Bart's eyes flashed as he felt
that it was one more well-armed, active, fighting man; and when evening
came, after an affectionate farewell, and amidst plenty of cheers from
the swarthy mob of idlers, the well-mounted little party rode out along
the road leading to the plains, with the lancers' accoutrements
jingling, their lance-points gilded by the setting sun, and their
black-and-yellow pennons fluttering in the pleasant evening breeze.
"At last," said Bart to himself, as he reined up and drew aside to see
the gallant little array pass. "Oh! if we can only get one good chance
at the cowardly demons! They won't hunt me now."
And in imagination he saw himself riding in the line of horsemen, going
at full speed for a body of bloodthirsty Indians, and driving them
helter-skelter like chaff before a storm.