The advance of To-la-go-to-de and his Lipans that day had been a slow
one. It grew slower and more cautious as hour after hour and mile
after mile of rugged mountain riding went by without any word from the
two pale-face scouts.
The chief himself grew uneasy, and he would have sent another party in
search of No Tongue and the Yellow Head but for fear of defeating the
very object he had in view.
They, he thought, would surely return or send him some word before
nightfall; but the sun was nearly setting when at last he went into
camp with his discontented warriors on the very spot where Steve and
Murray had made their own halt before daylight.
Then, indeed, he could wait no longer, and several braves were ordered
out on foot, with others on horseback, a little behind them, to explore
what was left of the pass and see what they could find. They could
have done more for their chief and themselves if the night had not been
a somewhat cloudy one, and not a brave of them ventured to descend into
the valley.
If they had done so they might have discovered two very important
facts. The first was that the Apache hunting village had left it, bag
and baggage, no one could guess whither. The second, and quite as
important a discovery, would have been that the camping-ground
abandoned by the Apaches had been promptly occupied by a strong party
of pale-faces.
All the scouts could really do was to bring back word that the pass was
clear of enemies to the border of the valley.
That was an anxious night, therefore, for To-la-go-to-de, and it would
hardly have been less so if he had known all about the doings of No
Tongue and Yellow Head during the day--about their capture and release
of the three miners, and their return to their mine.
The morning would bring news, at all events, for To-la-go-to-de
determined to dash on with all his warriors and find it for himself.
"No Tongue is wise. He is a great warrior. Sometimes wise old warrior
gets knocked on the head. Then he not come back at all."
There was a possibility, as he well knew, that the Apaches themselves
had something to do with the silence of his two pale-face friends; but
the Lipan chief was not the man to lie awake over any such thing as
that; he was not even anxious enough to dream about them after he got
asleep.
Another head had been quite as busy and troubled as that of
To-la-go-to-de all that day, and Captain Skinner also would have given
something for a few minutes' conversation with "them two mining
fellers."
He felt sure they could have given him both information and advice; but
he said to himself, "Of course they won't come nigh our outfit. They
know we've jumped their claim. Still, they did the friendly thing with
Bill and the boys, and they sent word they didn't bear us any ill-will.
That's 'cause they feel sure of their own ground. They're on good
terms with the redskins. I wish I could say we were."
Well he might, considering how many of them there were in that country,
and how near to him some of them were coming.
All the way down the pass the ragged little "Captain" had ridden in
advance of his men, carefully scanning every rock, and bush, and tree.
At last he paused at the very spot where Bill and his companions had
had their little difficulty. He seemed to see some signs that needed
studying, and he stooped down and picked up something--only a pair of
strong thongs of buckskin, that looked as if they had been recently
used in tying up something. He could make very little out of them; but
he noticed the marks of horse's feet going up and out of the forest.
"Signs are getting pretty thick. Hullo! An arrow! Cut in two, and
blood on it. Bill, isn't this the spot?"
"This 'ere's the very place, Cap. We came awful nigh havin' a fight
right yer."
"Glad you made out not to have any. Did those two white men and the
Indians ride away in company?"
"Wal, no. The redskins rid away first, and the two fellers promised to
foller 'em after a while. Then I reckon they cut off into the timber.
'Peared like they must ha' been huntin'."
"Most likely they were; and waiting for us to get away, so they could
go back to their mine. Boys, I'm afraid our claim there won't be worth
a great deal by the time we get back."
"We'll take care of that when we come, Cap. They said they'd take thar
chances. We'll jest take ours; that's all."
Slower, more and more cautiously, the mining train again moved forward,
until, from under the last of the pine-trees, Captain Skinner could
look out upon the valley and see that it was empty.
How would he and his men have felt if they could have known that at
that very minute Murray was chipping away with his chisel at his
inscriptions upon the central monument of the great Buckhorn Mine?
"Not a redskin in sight," he remarked. "If there were any there this
morning they've moved on. They're always on the move. Glad of it.
We'll go straight on down. There must be plenty of ways out of a
valley like that."
No doubt of it; but the first business of those wanderers, after they
reached the spring and unhitched their mule-teams, was to carefully
examine every hoof-mark and foot-print they could find.
The fact that there had been lodges there was proof that the Apaches
were not a war-party, but there was plenty of evidence that they were
numerous enough to be dangerous.
"Glad Bill didn't pick a quarrel with such a band as that," grumbled
Captain Skinner. "But how did he happen to show so much sense? I
never suspected him of it."
That was not very complimentary to Bill, and it was evident that the
Captain's opinion of him had not changed.
"Some kind of an accident," he said. "Nobody need waste any time
looking out for another one just like it."
It was getting late in the day, and a better place for a camp could not
have been found.
"This'll do for to-night, won't it, Cap?" asked one of the miners.
"Of course it will. We'll try to move east from here, or south, when
we leave it."
"Shall any of the boys go for game? Must be plenty of it all around."
"Game? Oh yes; plenty of it, after a hundred Apache hunters have been
riding it down for nobody knows how long! The redskins leave heaps of
game behind 'em, always."
The bitter sarcasm of the Captain's answer prevented any farther
remarks on the subject of hunting that afternoon. They had plenty of
fresh meat with them, nevertheless, and there was no reason why they
should not cook and eat.
There was a reason why they could not at once be altogether pleased
with their camping-ground. It was because they found the ashes of one
fire still hot enough to kindle with.
"The Apaches haven't been out of this a great while," said Captain
Skinner; "but the trail of their lodge-poles when they went shows that
they set off to the west'ard. That isn't our direction. I don't care
how far they go nor how fast."
When he came to talk with the other miners he found that they hardly
felt as he did about it; neither did they like the looks of the
mountain range through which the Apaches had come.
"Danger behind us or not," said one of the men. "I move we spend a day
or so in huntin', and findin' out jest what's best to be done, before
we light out of this. We must be getting pretty close to the Mexican
line."
They were even closer than he had any idea of; but, when their evening
conference ended, Captain Skinner was outvoted, and a "hunt and scout"
was agreed upon for the next day.