The attack had ended almost as suddenly as it began. Darkness descended
upon the valley and every vestige of the Apache was gone with the
twilight. Long before time for tattoo the eager watchers in the
down-stream posts could hear muffled hoofbeats and low-toned words of
command along the still cautious skirmish line, and Turner came but
slowly, first because he could see that there was no occasion for
hurry; second, because, with his wounded to protect, there was every
objection to haste. Between that steadily advancing array and these
fire-spitting heaps of sand toward the post the Indians slid soundless
away into the gloom of the foothills, and presently shouts of greeting
and welcome re-echoed among the rocks, and Turner's men rode sturdily
up to the fords. By ten the last litter had been shouldered through the
swift waters and borne to the ready hospital, where Bentley and his
assistants went busily to work. Six of the men and two Hualpai scouts
had been more or less severely wounded, four of them being borne from
Tonto Creek on improvised stretchers made from saplings and blankets.
Shelter tents, or tentage of any kind, our men had no use for, save as
sunshades, in Arizona.
And with Turner came the first tidings to reach the beleaguered post
since the couriers were brought in, with their belated tales, from up
the Verde. Turner looked a trifle surprised at the warmth of his
greeting. Turner had had little idea of their being so closely
invested. Turner had sent two runners in with reports, and they both
returned safely, saying, "Almy all right, but plenty Tonto everywhere!"
One of them said he gave his despatch to 'Tonio, as he dare go no
farther. One of them brought his back with him, and the third--Hualpai
21, he supposed--had finally reached the post, as only two nights since
an Apache-Mohave boy found his way to the Tonto Creek camp with the
despatch recalling the cavalry. They started at dawn, wounded and all;
had a long range fight with Tontos toward evening, and another next
morning, but forged slowly and steadily ahead with only slight loss,
and came in sight of the flag and the fracas late the second afternoon.
Turner was glad to get back, he said, since it seems he was needed, but
was no sooner back than he was eager to launch out again. Hadn't they
heard? Why, there had been great doings up on the Mogollon. Old Gray
Fox himself had taken the field and was out with all the horsemen from
Whipple and Sandy, and Stannard had joined them, and they were ripping
up the Tonto country in a way that bade fair to wind up the war. How
had he heard? Why, _runners_--Apache-Mohaves--'Tonio's people.
Kwonahelka and some of his ilk had managed to keep going between them,
slipping through or skipping round the Tontos like so many "ghost
goats." It was only here, round about Almy, the hostiles were too many
for them!"
"D'you mean you didn't _know_ the Apache-Mohaves were just as hostile
as the rest?" asked Archer.
"Apache-Mohaves!" exclaimed Turner, looking up in amaze from the hot
supper set for him in the mess room. "Why, general, I couldn't have got
along without 'em!"
"This beats me!" said the chief, looking at the faces about him for
support, and finding it in every one, for Harris had been remanded to
bed. "Up here they have chased our couriers, blocked the runners, and
'Tonio himself shot at Willett and killed his horse!"
For a moment Turner was too much surprised to speak. Suddenly he called
to the orderly at the doorway to send his sergeant, who was then at the
adjutant's office adjoining. "I beg your pardon, general," he said,
"but this seems incredible in view of our experiences. Why, some of
them joined us and stayed with us day and night." Then as a bearded,
sun-blistered face appeared at the doorway, and a sturdy form in
hunting shirt of deerskin and long Apache leggings stood attention
before them: "Sergeant, send 'Tonio here, and you come with him. You
and he seem to understand each other."
"'Tonio didn't come in, sir, nor the few that were with him. They hung
back and quit at the Point."
"Quit! Do you know what's the trouble?"
"No, sir." But the soldier was obviously embarrassed. "I gather,
though, from what I could understand, that 'Tonio thinks he's
mistrusted. He says he will not come in till Big Chief comes himself.
He means General Crook, sir."
There was silence a moment. It was for the post commander to speak if
anybody, and Archer sat studying the veteran trooper before him.
Officers of experience knew the value of expert opinion to be had for
the asking among sergeants with war records behind them, and Turner's
right bower, into whose sanctum at barracks only his intimates
ventured, save with cap in hand and "sir" on their lips, was a man of
mark in the regiment.
"Sergeant Malloy," said Archer, "did 'Tonio tell you why he was
mistrusted?"
"I think he was trying to, sir, but I am new at his language and none
too good at signs."
Again did it seem as though Malloy had understood more readily than he
cared to admit, or would presume to say. It was very late. The day had
been long and trying. With all its matter-of-fact, nonchalant ease of
manner during the few hours under fire, the personnel of Camp Almy,
officer and man, had been subjected to something of a strain night and
day for nearly a week, and now was ready to turn in and sleep, but
Archer and those with him were convinced that in Sergeant Malloy there
lived a witness who, better even than Lieutenant Harris, could throw
light on 'Tonio's singular and inexplicable behavior. There was not one
of their number who did not believe, and in the absence of Harris would
hesitate to say, that Willett had seen 'Tonio taking deliberate aim
when the shot was fired that downed both his horse and himself. This
was enough to warrant their doubt of 'Tonio's loyalty. All that was
lacking was something to establish a motive--an explanation--for a
murderous and treasonable deed. An unwilling witness was Sergeant
Malloy, therefore the more persistent should be the examination, and
after a moment's reflection Archer spoke again:
"Sergeant, you have formed an impression, I think, and I should be glad
to have the benefit of it. Did--he mean that--Lieutenant Harris
distrusted him?"
"No, sir." On this point the sergeant was confident.
"Did he mention any one--in particular?"
"I gathered that he thought that all the officers of the post, from the
general down, with perhaps two exceptions, distrusted him."
"And these two--were?"
"Captain Stannard, sir, and Captain Turner."
"I see," said Archer gravely. "Now, had anything happened--had anything
been said or done to account for his--sensitiveness, we will call it?"
Malloy hesitated. "The general understands, I hope, that I am answering
only as to impressions. I might be mistaken as to his meaning, and he
might have been mistaken as to the meaning of the officer in the case."
"Then there has been a case? When and where?"
There was impressive silence in the dimly lighted mess room as the
impromptu council sat about the table, Turner, with the relics of his
hearty supper, at the other end of it. Every man present seemed to feel
that here at last the clew to 'Tonio's double dealing was to be found.
The answer came readily enough:
"At Bennett's Ranch, sir, the night it was burnt."
"Why--what happened there?" And Archer was evidently surprised.
"'Tonio said he was insulted before his own people--called a
liar--struck with a gauntlet."
"Struck? 'Tonio? A chief, and a son of a chief--of a line of chiefs, in
fact! Why, what man could have been--mad enough to do that?"
There was just a suspicion of satire, of humor, of possible malice in
the answer, yet every one familiar with the traditions and the
vocabulary--the nomenclature--of the old army of the old days, knew
well the sergeant was well within his rights. Respect and regret
intermingled were in tone and word as in his answer, all unwittingly,
Malloy furnished the missing motive for 'Tonio's crime:
"It wasn't one of the men, sir. It was Lieutenant--Lieutenant Willett."
Then for a moment there was another silence. Bonner, Briggs and Strong
exchanged quick glances. Archer's fine, clear-cut face took on a deeper
shade, then he turned his chair to squarely face the sergeant.
"Did he explain--how it came about?"
"'Tonio said that he wished to go, and ought to go, with Lieutenant
Harris--the lieutenant was his chief. Lieutenant Willett forbade, as I
understand, and ordered him to stay, and he had to get Lieutenant
Harris himself to explain the order before 'Tonio would obey. Then
'Tonio says the lieutenant ordered him to do something, I could not
tell what. 'Tonio answered by telling Lieutenant Willett not to step on
some moccasin tracks, and the lieutenant surely couldn't have
understood him, for he grew very angry and--but, indeed, general, it's
more than I know that I've been telling----"
But Archer had one more question to ask, and asked it, and when it was
answered the council broke up with no man dissenting from the general
belief in 'Tonio's attempted, yet baffled, revenge.
"Did 'Tonio tell you of what happened later--of his attempt to shoot at
Lieutenant Willett?"
"Not a word or sign of that, sir!"
And yet it was 'Tonio's people who kept the faith as to bearing
messages and giving safe conduct to Archer's people in the field. It
was all past Archer's comprehension and that of the officers present.
There was no Gray Fox there who knew Indians as they knew themselves.
There was no genial, straightforward "Big Chief Jake," the fearless
soldier leader from the lower reservation, from Camp Apache and the San
Carlos, the man on whom the Gray Fox leaned, the man whom the hostiles
dreaded, the "friendlies" trusted, and all frontiersmen, soldier or
civilian, swore by. They could have fathomed it. Even blunt old
Stannard, had he been there, could have thrown some needed light on the
vexed and gloomy question. But in all Camp Almy that night there was
only one officer who, knowing few of these facts, nevertheless knew
'Tonio so well, and so repented him of his own brief suspicion, that he
would have called a halt to the order given Captain Turner within the
hour--to send Sergeant Malloy, with a dozen men, as soon as the coast
was clear of the hostile Apaches, to run down 'Tonio wherever he might
be, to secure and bring him in, a prisoner bound, and if he sought to
escape, to shoot him dead.