If the Lipan chief could but have known, when he set out from his camp
that evening, what had been determined on by Many Bears and his
councillors, he might have proceeded more wisely. The Apache chief did
not even go over the river, nor did any great number of his warriors.
Those who went came back almost immediately, and Murray saw that
nothing more could be done in behalf of peace.
"Send Warning come with braves?" inquired Many Bears, when at last his
whole force was gathered, impatient to be led away.
"No. We two will stay and help take care of camp. Pale-faces make big
peace with Lipans not long ago. Bad for us to strike them."
The chief could understand that.
An Indian of any tribe is held to be bound by the treaties made by his
people. The younger braves sometimes forget their duty as completely
as some young white men do, but an old warrior, a wise man, like Send
Warning, was naturally expected to know better. He did not lose
anything, therefore, in the good opinion of his new friends, and the
only reply of Many Bears was, "Ugh! Good. Stay with camp. Lodge
ready. Lipans never get near camp. All safe."
It might not have been so entirely safe, a few hours later, if Captain
Skinner and his miners had known, when they passed it so nearly, that
all its fighting population were then miles away on the prairie.
Not many miles, however, for Many Bears was thinking of Murray's
assertion that his enemies would surely come to attack him, and he did
not intend to let them get by him in the dark. They came pretty near
it, after all, widely as the Apaches spread themselves, and keenly as
they kept up their lookout.
To-la-go-to-de's grand "circuit" would have succeeded, and he would
have dashed in upon the unprotected camp, if it had not been for a mere
dwarf of a young brave who had stolen that opportunity to go on his
"first war-path." He had done so without permission from his elders,
and so kept well away from them, for fear some old warrior or chief
might send him back to camp in disgrace.
Boy as he was, however, his ears were of the best, and he knew the
sound of the feet of many horses. He heard them coming, and then he
knew by the sudden silence that they had halted.
It was just at that moment that the spies of Two Knives came racing up
to announce the suspicious change of direction on the part of the
miners, and the chief was considering the matter.
"Not go back to camp?"
"No," said one of the Lipan braves, pointing toward the south. "All
pale-faces go that way."
"Ugh. Good. Pale-face chief very cunning. Not want to run against
Apaches. Go way around. Get there before we do. We ride."
The Apache boy had not waited for them to start again. He had promptly
wheeled his pony and dashed away through the darkness with the news.
He had not far to go before he fell in with a squad of his own people,
and his work was done. Older and wiser braves than himself, with eyes
and ears as keen as his own, rode forward to keep watch of the
advancing Lipans, while the others lashed their ponies fiercely away to
spread the warning.
Many Bears had no notion of fighting so terrible an enemy with less
than his whole force, and he was in no hurry to begin. Orders were
sent for every body to fall back without being seen, and the Lipans
were allowed to come right along, with the mistaken idea that they were
about to make a surprise. It is bad to try such a thing as that and
then be surprised yourself instead of astonishing anybody else.
The Lipans were moving in two long, scattered ranks, one about a
hundred yards in advance of the other, expecting at any moment to come
in sight of the camp-fires of the Apaches, or to meet some stray scout
or other, when suddenly old To-la-go-to-de himself rose in his saddle,
and sent back a low, warning cry. He had detected the neighborhood of
enemies. He had seen shadowy forms flitting along in the gloom around
him, and he was not sure but he had heard the beat of hoofs upon the
sod.
In half a minute after he had uttered the warning cry which so suddenly
halted his warriors, he was quite sure he heard such sounds, and a
great many others.
First came a scattering but hot and rapid crash of rifle firing, then a
fierce chorus of whoops and yells; and then, before the two ranks of
Lipans could join in one body, a wild rush of shouting horsemen dashed
in between them. There was a twanging of bows, a clatter of lances,
more firing, with greater danger of somebody getting hit than there had
been at first, and Two Knives found his little band assailed on all
sides at once by superior numbers. The orders of Many Bears were that
the rear rank of his foes should only be kept at bay at first, so that
he could centre nearly all his force upon the foremost squad. The
latter contained a bare two dozen of chosen warriors, and their courage
and skill were of little use in such a wild hurly-burly.
To-la-go-to-de and three more even suffered the disgrace of being taken
prisoners, knocked from their ponies, tied up, and led away toward the
Apache village. Had Captain Skinner and his miners been on hand, with
all the Lipans they had killed or wounded, the result might have been
different. But Captain Skinner was hurrying his men toward the ford,
and nothing could restore to usefulness the warriors who had been
smitten by their bullets.
The rear rank of the Lipans had made a brave charge at once, but it had
taught them all they needed to know. That was a lost battle, and their
only remaining hope was in the speed of their horses. They turned from
that fruitless charge as one man, and rode swiftly away--swiftly, but
not wildly, for they were veterans, and they kept well together. They
were dangerous men to follow, and the main body of their foes was not
yet ready to try it.
By the time old Two Knives and his three warriors were safely tied up,
his fugitives' "rear rank" had galloped quite a distance, all the while
successfully beating off the squads of "young braves" that annoyed them.
There is an old proverb that "a stern chase is always a long chase,"
and the Lipans were even better mounted than their pursuers. Besides,
they all knew exactly what to do, and the night seemed to be getting
darker, as if for their benefit. They could not mistake their way, and
there were very few Apaches near them when they at last rode into their
own camp.
There was no time for them to throw away in talking over their defeat,
but they seemed to be united in their opinion that it was in some way
due to bad faith on the part of Captain Skinner and his miners. If
there was no time for anything else, therefore, enough could be spared
for gathering the horses and mules of the pale-faces and setting their
wagon on fire. They did the same with their own, after taking out of
it all they could carry in any other way. They would have some good
plunder to show on their return home, if they should get there, but
what account could they give of the loss of their great war-chief and
so many of his best braves, horses and all?
The Apaches were beginning to show themselves on the borders of the
camp, and to send threatening whoops and distant shots into it, before
the remnant of the Lipans were ready to move.
They sent their quadrupeds and wounded men ahead, toward the mouth of
the pass by which they had entered that valley, and behind these the
warriors rode sullenly along, every one of them longing for an
opportunity to strike one more blow before he crossed the mountains.
Nothing of the kind could be done that night, but there was no saying
what might come into their angry minds before morning. They would have
plenty of time to think after they were once safe in the pass, for
their enemies would not dream of following them among the rocks.