THE STORY OF A LOG
The red mustang was in excellent health, and he was also in high
spirits. So was his master, and they were nearly agreed upon another
point. Dick evidently believed that any trail whatever ought to be
followed at full speed, and Cal fretted continually over the steady
plodding commanded by Captain Moore. Cal was glad that in his first
Indian campaign he was to have so much first-class help, including the
four Chiricahua-Apache scouts. He had confidence in his father and in
the captain, as men of experience in such matters, but at last he could
hardly help mentioning to Sam Herrick the joint criticism made by
himself and Dick. "Why, Sam," he remarked, "the red-skins have three
days the start of us, and Captain Moore isn't in any kind of hurry. They
must be gaining on us."
"That's not of much account, Cal," said Sam, "so long as their trail
stays in this country. They're camped at the end of it to-night. So they
will be every night till they get to the far end of it, and there we'll
find 'em, unless they cross over into Mexico."
"And if they do that?" asked Cal.
"Mexico's a hot place for Indians just now," replied Sam. "Troops
moving; militia called out. These fellows couldn't stay there."
The far end of an Indian trail is sometimes a curious thing to hunt for,
as Sam went on to explain. It may get lost in the sand, or among the
mountains, or in the snow, or somebody may hide it or steal it, or a
heavy rain may wash it all out.
"Well," said Cal, "one thing's sure. If we should come near 'em, and
have to chase 'em, the horses won't be too travel-tired for good
running."
"Exactly so," said Sam. "That's what the captain's up to."
The cavalry and cowboy camp, that night, was as safe as Santa Lucia, but
there was something like a disturbance in another place.
The party of rancheros and Chiricahua militia who had blazed away at
Kah-go-mish may have been a kind of scouting-party. They had escaped
destruction by not following him up the slope, and they afterwards had
not many miles to ride before they reached a camp to which they
evidently belonged. One small corner of that camp had an appearance of
good order, where an experienced officer of the Mexican army was in
command of a few disciplined soldiers. All the remainder of it seemed to
bear the likeness of a grand military picnic, where all the men who had
tickets were free to have a good time in any manner they might please.
Very soon after supper most of them pleased to lie down and go to sleep,
while others sat up to smoke and play cards.
Of course there could not be any danger threatening a force of over four
hundred men, all so warlike, so soldierly, so completely ready to whip
any tribe of mere red Indians. Besides, no important band of hostiles
was known or believed to be in that vicinity. There might have been a
better watch kept that night, nevertheless, especially at the corral
where all their horses were picketed.
This had been made along the bank of the deep, still stream which
supplied the camp with ice-water from the Sierra Madre. Nobody ever
heard of any fellow taking a swim in such cold water as that was. It was
cold enough to chill the bones of a mountain trout. Of course no one did
undertake to swim in it, but, at about midnight, a log came floating
down. There was a large knot on one side of the log. The current or
something carried it against the bank, right in the middle of the
corral, and either there were two logs, or that log divided, for one log
floated off down stream, while the other log crept out on shore, stood
erect, and walked stealthily around among the horses. The knot was
carried on the upper end of this log, and the other went off without
any.
Very quickly were four of the best horses fixed with four of the best
saddles and bridles from among the long rows at the edge of the corral.
The log did it, and added holsters with revolvers in them and two
bundles of fine lances and some good American carbines, and two full
straddle packs of cartridges. The sentries of the corral were all
stationed away outside of the place where that peculiar log was at work.
All but two of them were asleep, as the guardians of so strong and
warlike a camp had a right to be.
Now the log crept around until it found a path leading out southerly,
past a sentry who was sleeping very soundly indeed. Then it went back
into the corral and led out the four saddled and bridled horses, with
four others following that wore only halters, but carried securely
strapped burdens, selected and fitted by the log.
There was a brilliant moonlight, so that there was no danger whatever to
the camp from Indians, and the log led the horses on until it became
wise to go ahead and see if there had been any picket posted at the
place and distance at which one might have been expected.
"Ugh!" exclaimed the log, as it went back for the horses. "Mexican! No
blue-coat!"
That was a compliment to such men as Captain Moore, but then the log was
doing what no kind of fellow would have undertaken with "blue-coats." It
now mounted one of the horses and led on up the stream, to a place it
seemed to know about, where the water was wide and shallow and could be
easily forded. On crossing it the log was still at no great distance
from the camp, but upon higher ground. Looking down, it could have a
good view of the smouldering camp-fires and the sleeping Mexicans, for
tents there were not.
"Kah-go-mish is a great chief!" exclaimed the knot at the top of the
log, exultingly. "Ugh! Got heap hoss, heap saddle, heap gun, heap all
plunder. Ugh! Mexican shoot at him on rock. Wonder how feel now, pretty
soon. Ugh!"
An irrepressible whoop of triumph burst from him.
"Ugh! Bad medicine," he said. "Great chief let mouth go off like boy."
He had not lost his wits, however, and he followed that whoop with a
dozen more, a whole series of fierce, ear-splitting screeches, while he
rapidly emptied the nine chambers of the captured carbine and the six of
a revolver. He aimed at the camp-fires and with tip-top success,
testified to by sudden showers of sparks and brands which flew around
among the startled sleepers.
Great was the uproar in that astonished camp. Seven gallant fellows who
had bugles began to blow for dear life the moment they were upon their
feet. Every officer began to shout orders as soon as he was awake, and
some seemed to begin even earlier. They exhibited tremendous presence of
mind, but no soldier received the same order from any two of them.
Within a minute, at least a hundred men were at their posts of danger
behind something or other, while three hundred more were making a blind
rush for the corral. The sentries had all fired their pieces at once,
and now there began a general popping of guns and pistols at the awful
shadows beyond the little river.
Kah-go-mish could hardly have wished for anything better. He wheeled and
rode rapidly away, followed by the string of horses which he had
regarded as the fee due to him for being made a target of.
He had not been killed, then, no thanks to the Mexicans, and he had not
killed anybody now, deeming it imprudent to take any scalps under the
circumstances. He had again, however, proved his claim to be considered
an extraordinary collector of enemy's horses, and that is a high fame to
win among the wild tribes of the southwest. As for the righteousness of
what he had done, in his own eyes, he was a commanding officer of
Mescalero Apaches, and his people were at war with Mexico, as the
rancheros and militia had declared so recklessly. He made war in a
manner every inch as civilized as their own, and thought well of himself
for so doing. He said so, quite a number of times, that night, as he
rode on deeper and deeper into the rugged passes of the Sierras. About
daylight he came to an open, shaded spot, by a spring, where there was
grass for his prizes, and where he could build a fire and then find out
what there might be for breakfast in a very fat haversack which hung
from one of the saddles.
As for the Mexican cavalry, of all sorts, they behaved well, and the
officer in supreme command at last succeeded in substituting his own
orders for those of his hasty subordinates. He stationed a strong force
at the ford, to prevent the supposed tribe of red men which had assailed
his camp from crossing the river. He threw out scouting-parties,
encouraged his men by voice and example, urging them to do their duty,
prove their attachment to their flag, and to die rather than surrender.
He was answered by enthusiastic cheers, and, when morning came, he
readily obtained from among them a body of brave volunteers who followed
him across the ford to search the dangerous underbrush on the hill from
which the hostile barbarians had fired upon the camp. The more they
searched the better they felt, and at last they found a trace of the
enemy. They captured a pony, bridle and all. It was the sad-looking
beast selected by Kah-go-mish as the most nearly worthless of all that
he had brought with him from the Reservation.
Eight militiamen, one of them a bugler, already knew that the enemy had
penetrated the corral, and had gotten away again, but here was a sort of
a mount for one of them. Well, it was a capture, anyhow, and a proof of
victory, and was spoken of as "ponies" in the official report of the
manner in which that night-attack had been baffled by the Chiricahua
militia.