"The Gray Fox" had but just received his promotion to the star, jumping
every colonel in the army. He had been doing mighty work among the
recalcitrant Apaches at a time when other commanders were having hard
luck in their respective fields--one, indeed, forfeiting his own
honored and valued life through heeding the sophistries of the Peace
Commissioners rather than the appeals of officers and men who long had
known the Modocs. For long years the warriors of the Arizona deserts
and mountains had bidden defiance to the methods of department
commanders who fought them from their desks at Drum Barracks, or the
Occidental, but George Crook came from years of successful campaigning
after other tribes, and in person led his troopers to the scene of
action. One after another the heads of noted chiefs were bowed, or
laid, at his feet. The pioneers, the settlers, the ranchmen and miners
took heart and hope again, and the marauders to the mountains. Then
came "our friends the enemy," from the far East, with petition and
prayer. Suspension of hostilities, on part of the troops at least, was
ordered, while most excellently pious emissaries arrived inviting the
warriors to come in, to be reasoned with, taught the error of their
ways and persuaded to promise to be good. The astute Apache had no
objection to such proceedings. He was certainly willing to have the
soldier quit fighting, just as willing to come and hear exhortation and
prayer, when coupled with presents and plenty to eat; most Indians
would be. So the new general stepped aside, as ordered, and left the
elders a fair field. "The Gray Fox" went hunting bear and deer, and
while the Apache chieftains went down to the Gila to reap what they
could from the lavish hands of the good and the gentle, their young men
swooped on the stage roads and scattered ranches, and made hay after
their own fashion while shone the sun of peace and promise. So happened
it along the Verde and Salado that the Apache came down like the wolf
on the fold, and so Harris had come up from the Southern Sierra, and
'Tonio had sworn that, all signs to the contrary notwithstanding, his
people were not, as the agent declared, the pillagers and pirates.
"Apache-Mohave? _No!_ No!!"
"The Gray Fox" had ventured to give his views to the War Department,
which in turn had ventured to express itself to the Secretary of the
Interior. But let us lose no time in following further. The Eastern
press, and such of the Eastern public as had any leisure to devote to
the subject, persisted in looking upon Indian affairs from the
viewpoint and remoteness of Boston, where once upon a time Miles
Standish and our Puritan forbears handled such matters in a manner
anything but Puritanical. Nothing was left to the military arm of the
Government but temporary submission, so, as has been said, "the Gray
Fox" went off on a hunt for bear, mountain lions, and such big game as
was reported to be awaiting him toward the Grand Canon to the north. An
adjutant-general of the old school was left in charge of the desk and
the department, and all on a sudden found that while Peace and its
commissioners held their sway far to the south, grim-visaged War had
burst upon the northward valleys, and chaos had come again.
The couriers bearing Archer's report to Prescott found others,
similarly burdened, from the upper reservation, from Camp Sandy, and
even from points to the west and south of department head-quarters, all
telling of death and depredation. So, while the chief of staff ruefully
digested these tidings at the office, the couriers proceeded to have a
time in town, to the end that, when replies and instructions were in
readiness to be sent out, only two of the six were in shape to take
them, and Archer's runner--one of the frontier scouts, half Mexican,
half Apache--was one of the two.
Now, the chief of staff had been nearly three years in Arizona, had
served in similar capacity to predecessors of "the Gray Fox," and
naturally thought he understood the Apache, and the situation, far
better than did his new commander, and the fact that he had allowed
this conviction to be known had led to a degree of official friction
between himself and the one aide-de-camp left that was fast verging on
the personal. Bright, almost invariably the companion of the general in
his journeyings, was even now with him, lost in the mountains ninety
miles in one direction; Willett, the newly appointed aide-de-camp, was
with the commander of Camp Almy, ninety miles away in another, while
black-bearded Wickham stood alone at Prescott. Wickham had not been
consulted when Willett was sent with confidential instructions to Almy.
Wickham would have disapproved, and the chief of staff knew it. Wickham
_had_ to be shown Archer's despatch, though the adjutant-general
would gladly have concealed it, and now, in chagrin at the outcome of
affairs at Almy, and in consternation at the ebullition all around him,
the adjutant--general was quite at a loss what to do. Wickham, if
asked, would have said at once, "Send for General Crook," but that
would be confession that he, the experienced, did not know how to
handle the situation. So again he took no counsel with Wickham, but
issued instructions in the name of the department commander and ordered
them carried out forthwith.
Then it transpired that only two couriers were fit to go. Thereupon,
the commanding officer of the one cavalry troop at the post was ordered
to detail three non-commissioned officers, with a brace of troopers
apiece, as bearers of despatches to Date Creek, Wickenberg, Sandy and
the reservation, while Sanchez, the Mexican-Apache Mercury, was ordered
to hasten back to Almy by way of the Mazatzal. It was then but ten
A.M., and to the annoyance of the adjutant-general, Sanchez shook his
black mane and said something that sounded like _hasta la noche_--he
wouldn't start till night. Asked why, the interpreter said he feared
Apache Tontos, and being assured by the adjutant-general that no Tonto
could be west of the Verde, intimated his conviction of the officer's
misinformation by the only sign he knew as bearing on the matter--that
of the forked tongue, which called for no interpreter, as it concisely
said, You lie. Sanchez meant neither insult nor insolence, but the
adjutant-general regarded it as both, ordered another sergeant and two
men got ready at once to ride to Almy, and bade the interpreter take
Sanchez to the post guard-house and turn him over for discipline to the
officer of the day. The sergeant started forty minutes later, with his
two men at his back, and just thirty-five minutes behind Sanchez, who
left the station on the spur of the moment, and the interpreter with a
cleft weasand. It is a mistake for one man to attempt the incarceration
of an armed half-blood of the Indian race. Sanchez started in the lead,
afoot, and, in spite of his fear of Tontos, kept it all the way to the
Mazatzal, where, as was later learned, he abandoned the paths of
rectitude and the trail to Almy, and joining a party of twenty young
renegades, complacently watched the coming of that sergeant and
detachment from behind the sheltering bowlders of Dead Man's Canon, and
thus it happened that the orders Archer had been expecting three long
days and nights were destined never to get to him.
It was this situation he had been puzzling over when at ten P.M. the
officer of the day came in to say that new signal fires in the east
were now being answered by others in the west, away over in the
Mazatzal, and the general went forth to the northern edge of the
"bench" to have a good look at them, wishing very much he had Stannard
or Turner or "Capitan Chiquito"--little Harris--to help him guess their
meaning.
But Stannard, with his sturdy troop, was still far afield, scouting the
fastnesses of the Mogollon in hopes still of overtaking the marauding
band that had ruined Bennett's ranch, murdered its owner, and borne
away into the wilds two helpless little settlers for whom a
half-crazed, heart-broken woman at Almy was wailing night and day.
Turner, following another route and clew, was exploring the Sierra
Ancha south of Tonto Creek, and Lieutenant Harris, in fever and
torment, was occupying an airy room in the post surgeon's quarters, the
object of Bentley's ceaseless care, and of deep solicitude on part of
the entire garrison.
Borne in the arms of Stannard's men, poor young Mrs. Bennett, raving,
had been carried back to the ruins, and thence by ambulance to the
post. There now she lay with her reason almost gone, nursed by the
hospital steward's wife, and visited frequently by three gentle women,
whose hearts were wrung at sight of her grief. Mrs. Stannard sometimes
spent hours in the effort to soothe and comfort her. Mrs. Archer was
hardly less assiduous, but was beginning now to have anxieties of her
own. Lilian, her beloved daughter, fancy free, as the mother had reason
to know, up to the time of their coming to this far-away,
out-of-the-way station, seemed dangerously near the point of losing her
heart to that very attractive and presentable fellow, Willett, the
aide-de-camp, and Mrs. Archer did not half like it.
When the news was brought in to Almy that Mrs. Bennett had been
recaptured, and that Lieutenant Harris was wounded in the fight which
scattered her abductors, Willett was the first to mount and away to
meet them. It was his orderly who came galloping back for the ambulance,
and Willett who, before the arrival of the surgeon, had caused to be
rigged up a capital litter on which, later, by easy stages his
suffering classmate was borne to the post. Harris was indeed sorely
hurt, so sorely that the faintest jar was agony. Harris was weak and
pallid from suffering when lifted to his couch in the doctor's
quarters, bearing it all with closed eyes and clinching teeth,
suppressing every sound. The general was there to bear a hand and speak
a word of cheer, all the time wishing it were possible to overtake the
courier, by that time nearly twenty-four hours on his way to Prescott,
that he might amend the wording of that report. He was for sending a
"supplementary" that very evening, but who was there to send? Sanchez
was the only available post courier. The scouts were away with the
cavalry. Both troops were now afield. Barely a dozen horses were left
at the post, and every able-bodied, ambitious cavalryman was with his
comrades on the trail. They who remained were the extra duty men, or
the weaklings. Moreover, when Archer spoke of it to Willett, the latter
very diplomatically argued against it. Wait a day and something _worth_
sending would surely turn up. Two such captains as Stannard and Turner
could not fail to accomplish something. They could be counted on to
find the hostiles and punish them wherever found. Moreover, as yet,
there were only evil tidings to send, for so the wounding of Harris
would be regarded, and the recapture of poor Mrs. Bennett without her
children would hardly compensate. There was still another thing to be
considered, but even Willett balked at saying this. He had said enough
to induce Archer to hold his hand another day at least, so why use more
ammunition until he had to?
Two days, therefore, had gone by without news from the field column or
further message to Prescott. Then it was easy to persuade Archer that
it was best to wait the return of Sanchez, and, for Willett, those two
days, especially the long, exquisite evenings, had been full of- sweet
and thrilling interest. "I should be more with Harris, I suppose you
are thinking," he had said to Lilian Archer, "and there I would be,
but--I cannot rid myself of the feeling that he would rather be alone.
He always was peculiar, and I seem to worry rather than to help him."
"But you were classmates," said she, "and I thought----"
"Classmates, yes," he answered, "but never much together. Even
classmates, you know, are not always intimates."
"Still I should think that now--here----" she began again, her hand
straying listlessly over the strings of her guitar, her slender fingers
trying inaudible chords.
He glanced over his shoulder to where Mrs. Archer and Mrs. Stannard,
fast becoming warm friends, were in chat near the open doorway. Then
his handsome head was lowered, and with it the deep, melodious voice.
"Can you not think that here, and now, I might have greater need of
every moment? Any hour may bring my marching orders."
She drew back, just a little. This was only the evening after his
return with the wounded. "You always welcome field orders," she
ventured.
"I always have--hitherto."
The voice of Mrs. Archer was uplifted at this juncture, just a bit.
"Lilian, dear, you and Mr. Willett would be wise to pull your chairs
this way. I've never liked that corner since 'Tonio's discovery. Where
_is_ 'Tonio, Mr. Willett?"
"I wish I knew, Mrs. Archer," said Willett, rising and holding forth a
hand to aid Miss Archer to her feet--something she did not need, yet
took. "He was with Stannard when I left. He was with him when they
rescued Mrs. Bennett. He was said to be all distress when he saw that
Harris was hit--and then he disappeared. Stannard's last despatch said
he had not rejoined."
It was another beautiful, moonlit evening, and the post was very still.
The men of Archer's two infantry companies were clustered about their
log barracks or wandering away by twos and threes to the trader's store
on the flats. The general was pacing the parade in earnest and murmured
talk with the post adjutant. Bentley, the surgeon, was busy with his
charges, having left Harris in a fitful, feverish doze. Not since the
night of the calamity at Bennett's had the sentries reported sign of
signal fire in the hills, but this night, before the last filament of
gold had died at the top of the peak, Number Four had caught a glimpse
of a tiny blaze afar over to the east, and instantly passed the word.
Only half an hour it was observed, and then, away toward the
south-east, an answering gleam burned for a moment against the black
background of the Sierras. Then both went out as suddenly as they
started.
The general was dining at the moment, and, believing that the fires
would not so soon be extinguished, the officer of the day had not at
once reported them. He was at Archer's door as the veteran came forth,
haranguing Willett, again his guest at dinner, but with anxious eyes
turned at once to hear the report. "No matter what time it happens," he
said, "hereafter, when signals are seen, let the guard notify me at
once." And the officer retired musing over this bit of evidence that
the commanding officer was growing a trifle irritable.
It was soon after guard mount next day that two runners from Sandy had
come in, weary and hungry. "'Patchie sign--_todas partes_," said the
leader, after delivering his despatch. But he, too, was half Apache and
had squirmed through without mishap. For two hours after reading Archer
kept the contents to himself. The adjutant-general wished to consult
him at Prescott. Ninety miles north-west by buckboard, through a
country infested by hostile Indians! It was a trip he little cared to
take and leave his wife and daughter here! At noon he had had to tell
them, and tell Willett, who was teaching Lilian a fandango he had heard
on the Colorado. Mother and daughter looked anxiously at each other and
said nothing. It was decided he should wait until night before
arranging when to start. Surely this night should bring news of some
kind.
And surely enough, at ten came the summons that took him, field-glass
in hand, to the northward edge of the little mesa again. Somewhere in
the direction of Diamond Butte, almost due east, one fire was brightly
blazing. Over in the Mazatzal to the westward there were two, and even
as they stood and studied them, Archer dropped his glasses at an
exclamation of surprise from one of his officers, and there, gaunt and
weary, yet erect and fearless, stood 'Tonio. Like a wraith he seemed to
have blown in among them, and now patiently awaited the attention of
the commander; yet, when accosted, all he would say in answer to
question, for they knew not his native tongue, was "_Capitan Chiquito_!"
So they led him to the doctor's quarters, and Bentley tiptoed in to see
what Harris was doing. He was awake, in pain and fever, but clear-headed.
"Of course I'm able to see 'Tonio," said he. "I _need_ to see him."
Whereupon shufflings were heard in the hallway without, and presently
in the dim lamplight 'Tonio knelt by the young chief's side, took the
clutching white hand and laid it one instant on his head. To no other
of their number had 'Tonio ever tendered such homage. Rising to his
feet, he looked about him, his glittering eyes fixed one moment in mute
appeal; another moment, and gloomily, they studied Willett's handsome
face. Then he spoke, Harris half haltingly explaining. It began
languidly on the latter's part. It quickly changed to excitement, then
to vehement life. 'Tonio was telling of some sharp encounter wherein
women and children had been slain, whereby the mountain tribes were all
aroused, and then he had gone on to declare what Indian vengeance would
demand. Impassioned, 'Tonio threw himself at the first pause on his
knees by the side of the cot whereon lay his beloved _Capitan_, and it
was to him he spoke. It was he who translated:
"No one," said 'Tonio, "should venture beyond sentry post either day or
night. Even now the rocks and woods about the station were full of
foemen. Get ready to fight them and to take care of the women and
children. They mean revenge! They mean attack! Renegade Apaches!" said
he, "all renegade! Apache-Mohave, no!"