BOUND FOR THE BORDER.
The warning-shot fired from the roof of the ranch by Major Vic Evans had
been a great surprise to the Apaches. It had informed them that they
could not surprise Santa Lucia, and that they were known as enemies. At
the same time, they had not been supplied with field-glasses for the
better inspection of the marksman.
Kah-go-mish knew something about the army of the United States.
Blue-coats at Santa Lucia meant danger to him and his. Loss of horses
and a possible forced return to the Reservation seemed to stare him in
the face. Of course, he gave up the ranch, but he had yet a hope
remaining.
The braves who had chased Sam Herrick that morning had reported one
lonely cowboy, and no end of horses and cattle stampeded into the timber
at Slater's Branch. There was the point to strike at, therefore, and
success was sure if it had not been for the horse from which Sam Herrick
dismounted when he transferred his saddle to the dancing gray for his
ride home. He was a good horse, and he had run well when the Apaches
were behind him. Sam had now left him, but it seemed to him that his
morning-work had been cut short. Perhaps, too, he had a curiosity as to
where Sam was riding to upon the gray. At all events, the dashing
cowboy was not out of sight before the horse he had unsaddled started
after him.
That was example enough for a drove which was still tremendously nervous
from a big stampede. Horse after horse and mule after mule set out in a
lively four-footed game of "follow my leader." Not one of them was
willing to be left behind to be captured by Indians or by another
stampede. Even the horned cattle on the opposite bank began to wade
through the mud of Slater's Branch as if they thought of joining the
procession. The self-appointed leader of the horses did not see fit to
take a very rapid gait, but seemed able to follow the trail of Sam
Herrick to the ford where the cowboy had returned to the other side.
Here a half hour or so was expended in feeding, neighing, kicking up of
heels, and other tokens of horse deliberation. Then one and another of
the more influential members of the drove decided to try the grass
nearer Santa Lucia, and began to lead their comrades northerly. Sam's
friend appeared to be superseded in command, but the net result was bad
for Kah-go-mish. The chief and his warriors were guided well after
giving up the ranch, and on their arrival at Slater's Branch they found
the cattle in the timber. A noble herd; endless beef; but all too heavy
to carry and too slow to be driven by red men who were likely to be
pursued by cavalry.
Slater's Branch was crossed at once, and all the muddy margin told of
the horses which had marched away. Where were they now? The puzzle
deepened as the disappointed braves rode onward down the branch. Even
at the ford a brace of braves dashed across for a search, but they gave
it up, and came back disappointed. The escaped drove of horses had been
under too much excitement to halt long anywhere, and had even enjoyed a
small stampede, which carried them half-way to the ranch.
"Kah-go-mish is a great chief," sullenly remarked the Apache commander.
"Cavalry come. Save horses. Ugh! Heap bad luck."
It required what seemed almost like rashness, under such circumstances,
to linger at Slater's Branch, but the Apaches felt bitterly about being
robbed in that way of Colonel Evans's larger horse-drove. More cattle
were slaughtered and more fresh beef was prepared for transportation;
fires were kindled, and an hour of what might have been precious time if
any cavalry were near, was spent in cooking and eating.
Keen had been the eyes of Kah-go-mish, and they had given him an
interpretation of the stacks of bayoneted muskets in front of the
stockade gate. He knew that the garrison of Santa Lucia consisted, as
yet, of infantry only, and that he and his braves could finish their
dinner before the supposed return of the dreaded cavalry.
They ate well, nobody could have disputed that, and then they mounted
and rode away in high spirits. While the people at the ranch were
anxiously reasoning as to whether or not their enemies would reappear,
the exultant Mescaleros were miles and miles nearer, with every hour, to
the Mexican border, and to the point where they were, in due time, to
meet their equally happy families. Their camp, that night, was as
peaceful as if it had been a picnic, and at the earliest dawn of day
they were stirring again, very much as if they had taken for granted the
march of Captain Moore and the angry determination of Colonel Abe Evans.
The air rang with whoops and shouts, and among them could be heard a
very positive assertion concerning himself from the deep voice of
Kah-go-mish.
At about the same hour, and in as perfect safety, fires were kindling
and fresh beef was cooking, and eating began at the camp where
Wah-wah-o-be and all the family part of the band had passed the pleasant
summer night. It was a number of miles to the southward; it was nearer
to the very southern edge of the United States, but over every breakfast
might have been heard expressions of a general desire to be nearer
still.
That entire party, as well as the warriors in the other, had dismal days
of poverty and privation to look back upon. Days when most of them were
compelled to walk instead of riding, and when footsore squaws were
forced to carry burdens which were now transferred to the strong backs
of captured mules and ponies. Walking was over and hunger was gone, and
even the overworked ponies saw their packs put upon fresher carriers. It
was a great relief to a poor fellow who had panted under a small hill of
family property all the way from the Reservation to have nothing now but
a squaw to carry, or a couple of small boys, or perhaps three girls or
so. No pony had more than that when all was ready for the day's march.
Several of the captured Evans colts had a busy time that morning. They
had rebelled too vigorously the previous day, and had reached their
first Apache camps unbroken. Their time for service had come now,
however, and they were rapidly instructed how to go along under
wild-looking riders whom they were unable to throw off. Several there
were, nevertheless, who earned another day of comparative freedom. Time
was precious, and too much of it could not be spent in horse-breaking.
"Ugh!" said Wah-wah-o-be. "Pale-face pony kick a heap."
That was when a skilful mustang had pitched a young Apache brave clean
over his head.
It was a gay cavalcade when at last it got in motion. From one end of it
to the other there did not seem to be one sign of anxiety. Its immediate
wants had been provided for wonderfully, and it had great confidence in
the future. There was something very hopeful to talk about, for every
Mescalero, young or old, was on tiptoe with eagerness to hear the report
of the doings of Kah-go-mish and his warriors.
"Sun go down, great chief come," said Wah-wah-o-be, and there was no
telling what or how much he would bring with him.