Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 43067-h.htm or 43067-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/43067/pg43067-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/43067/43067-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/inhandsofcavedwe00hentiala
IN THE HANDS OF THE CAVE-DWELLERS
by
G. A. HENTY
Author of "With Roberts to Pretoria" "Won by the Sword" "To Herat
and Cabul" &c.
Illustrated by Wat. Miller
Blackie and Son Limited
London Glasgow and Dublin
[Illustration: "FOUR INDIANS STEPPED FROM AMONG THE TREES"]
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. A MIDNIGHT ATTACK 7
II. A HEARTY WELCOME 23
III. AN AMBUSH 42
IV. A GREAT RANCH 61
V. AN INDIAN RAID 81
VI. HOPEFUL NEWS 101
VII. THE PURSUIT 120
VIII. THE CAVE-DWELLERS 140
IX. RESCUED 157
IN THE HANDS OF THE CAVE-DWELLERS
CHAPTER I
A MIDNIGHT ATTACK
It was late in the evening at San Diego, in the autumn of the year 1832;
there was no moon, but the stars shone so brightly in the clear, dry
atmosphere that it was easy to distinguish objects at some little
distance. A young fellow, in the dress of a sailor, was making his way
through the narrow streets that bordered the port, when he heard a
sudden shout, followed by fierce exclamations and Mexican oaths. Without
pausing to consider whether it was prudent to interfere, he grasped
tightly a cudgel he had that day cut, and ran to the spot where it was
evident that a conflict was going on. It was but some forty yards away,
and as he approached he made out four figures who were dodging round a
doorway and were evidently attacking someone standing there. The
inequality of the combat was sufficient to appeal to the sailor's
sympathies. The sand that lay thick in the street had deadened his
footsteps, and his presence was unmarked till his stick descended with a
sharp crack on the up-lifted wrist of one of the assailants, eliciting a
yell of pain, while the knife the man held flew across the street.
One of the man's companions turned upon the new-comer, but the sailor's
arm was already raised, and the cudgel lighted with such force on the
man's head that he fell stunned to the ground. This unexpected assault
caused the other two fellows to pause and look around, and in an instant
the defender of the doorway bounded forward and buried his knife in one
of their bodies, while the other at once fled, followed by the man
whose wrist had been broken by the sailor's first blow.
"Carambo, señor!" the Mexican said. "You have rendered me a service
indeed, and I tender you a thousand thanks. I could not have held out
much longer, for I had been more than once wounded before you arrived."
"You are heartily welcome, señor. It was but a slight business--two
blows with my stick and the matter was done."
"You are not a countryman of mine, señor," the other said, for the
sailor spoke with a strong accent; "you are a stranger, and, as I can
see now, a sailor."
"That is so. I am an American."
"Is that so?" the other said, speaking this time in English. "As you
see, I know about as much of your tongue as you do of mine. I thought
you must be a stranger even before I observed your dress, for street
frays are not uncommon in this town, whereas in other ports there are
scores of men ready for any villany, and few of my people would care to
interfere in a fray in which they have no interest. But do not let us
stay here. It is best to get out of this quarter."
"Shall we do anything with these fellows? The one I hit can only be
stunned, and I should think we ought to give him in charge to the
watch."
The other laughed. "You might wait some time before we found them, and,
besides, it would give us a deal of trouble. No; leave them where they
lie. The one I struck at least will never get up again. Now, señor, may
I ask the name of my preserver? Mine is Juan Sarasta."
"Mine is William Harland," the sailor replied.
"We are friends for life, Señor Harland," the Mexican said, as he held
out his hand and gripped that of the sailor warmly. "Where are you
staying?"
"I am staying nowhere at present," the sailor laughed. "I deserted from
my ship three days ago, bought a supply of food, and have been some
miles up the country. I knew that the vessel was to sail to-day, and I
came back again and watched her go out just before sunset, and have been
sitting on a barrel down at the wharf, wondering what I was going to do,
and whether, after all, it would not have been wiser of me to have put
up with that brute of a captain until we got down to Valparaiso."
"We will talk all that matter over later," the Mexican said. "I am
staying with some friends, who will, I am sure, make you welcome when I
tell them that you saved my life."
"I thank you very much," the sailor said, "but no doubt I shall be able
to find some little inn where I can obtain a night's lodging."
"Such a thing is not to be thought of, Señor Harland, and I shall feel
very much hurt if you do not accept my offer."
They were now in a wider street, and, passing a wine-shop from which the
light streamed out, Harland saw that the Mexican was a young fellow but
two or three years older than himself, and his dress showed him to
belong to the upper class. The Mexican's glance had been as quick as his
own, for he said, "Why, you are younger than I am!"
"I am just eighteen."
"And I twenty. Were you an officer on your ship?"
"No. My father is one of the leading citizens of Boston; he absolutely
refused to allow me to follow the sea as a profession, although he is a
large ship-owner himself; however, my mind was made up, and as I could
not go as an officer, I came as a sailor. This is not my first voyage,
for two years ago he let me sail in one of his ships as an apprentice,
making sure that it would have the effect of disgusting me with the sea.
However, the experiment failed, and to his anger I returned even fonder
of it than when I started. He wanted me to go into his office, but I
positively refused, and we had a serious quarrel, at the end of which I
went down to the river and shipped before the mast. I know now that I
have behaved like a fool. The captain was a brute of the worst sort, and
the first mate was worse, and between them they made the ship
unbearable. I stood it as long as I could, but three days before we got
to this port one of the young apprentices, whom they had pretty nearly
killed, jumped overboard, and then I made up my mind that as soon as we
landed I would bolt and take my chance of getting a berth on board some
other ship."
"But you speak Spanish very fairly, señor."
"Well, the last ship I was in traded along the western coast, putting in
at every little port, so I picked up a good deal of the language, for we
were out here nearly six months. The ship I have just left did the same,
so I have had nearly a year on this coast, and having learned Latin at
school, of course it helped me very much. And you, señor, how do you
come to speak English?"
"I have been down for the past six months in Valparaiso, staying with a
relation who has a house there, and my greatest friends there were some
young Englishmen of my own age, sons of a merchant. My father had spoken
of my paying a visit to your States some day, and therefore I was glad
of the opportunity of learning the language. This, señor, is the house
of my friends."
As Harland saw that his companion would take no denial, he followed him
into the house. The young Mexican led the way to a pretty room with
windows to the ground, opening on to a garden.
"You are late, Señor Juan," a gentleman said, rising from his seat; but
before the young man could reply, a girl of fifteen or sixteen years old
cried out: "Madre Maria, he is wounded!"
"It is nothing serious, and I had almost forgotten it till just now it
began to smart. I have two, or, I think, three stabs on my left arm;
they are not very deep, as I twisted my cloak round it when I was
attacked. But it would have been a very serious business had it not been
for this gentleman, whom I wish to introduce to you, Don Guzman, as the
saviour of my life. He is an American gentleman, the son of a wealthy
ship-owner of Boston, but, owing to some slight disagreement with his
father, he has worked his way out here as a sailor. I ventured to
promise that you would extend your hospitality to him."
"My house is at your service, señor," the Mexican said courteously. "One
who has rendered so great a service to my friend Don Juan Sarasta, is my
friend also. Christina, ring the bell and tell the servants to bring hot
water and clothes, and then do you go to your room while we attend to
Don Juan's injuries."
The wounds proved to be by no means serious; they were all on the
forearm, and, having to pierce through six or seven inches of cloth, had
not penetrated very far. They had, however, bled freely, and although
the young man laughed at them as mere scratches, he looked pale from the
loss of blood.
"A few bottles of good wine, and I shall be all right again."
"I must apologize for not having asked you before," Señor Guzman said to
Harland, when the wounds were bandaged, "but have you supped?"
"Yes, thank you, señor. I bought some food as I came through the town,
and ate it as I was waiting at the port."
"Have you any luggage that I can send for?"
"I have a kit-bag, which I will fetch myself in the morning. It is out
on the plain. I did not care to bring it from the town until I knew that
the vessel I came in had sailed."
"I can lend you some things for the night," Juan said. "You are a little
taller than I am, but they will be near enough."
Some wine and biscuits were now brought in, and some excellent cigars
produced.
"Were they thieves that attacked you, think you, Don Juan?" his host
asked, after the latter had given a detailed account of his adventure.
"I cannot say, but I own I have an idea it was my life that they wanted
rather than my valuables. I had a fancy that a man was following me, and
I went to see the man I had spoken to about the mules. Coming back I
heard a whistle behind me, and twenty yards farther three men sprang
out, and one ran up from behind, so that I don't think it was a chance
encounter."
"Do you suspect anyone?"
The young Mexican hesitated a moment before he answered. "No, señor; I
have no quarrel with anyone."
"I do not see how, indeed, you could have an enemy," Don Guzman said,
"seeing that you have been here only for a fortnight; still, it is
curious. However, I have no doubt there are plenty of fellows in the
town who would put a knife between any man's shoulders if they thought
he was likely to have a few dollars in his pocket. Your watch-chain may
have attracted the eye of one of these fellows, and he may have thought
it, with the watch attached to it, well worth the trouble of getting,
and would have considered it an easy matter, with three comrades, to
make short work of you, though I own that when you showed fight so
determinedly I wonder they did not make off, for, as a rule, these
fellows are rank cowards."
Will Harland observed that when the don asked if Juan had any suspicions
as to the author of the attempt, Donna Christina, who had returned to
the room when his wounds were dressed, glanced towards him, as if
anxious to hear his answer. Putting that and the young Mexican's
momentary hesitation together, he at once suspected that both he and the
girl had a strong idea as to who was at the bottom of this attempt. The
subject was not further alluded to, the conversation turning upon the
United States, concerning which the Mexican asked Harland many
questions.
"It is a pity so great a distance divides us from them," he said. "It is
more effectual than any ocean, and yet perhaps if we were nearer
neighbours your people would disturb our quiet life here. They are
restless, and forever pushing forward, while we abhor changes, and live
as our fathers did three hundred years ago. You see, the mountains act
as a barrier to us, and we have never even tried to extend the territory
we occupy beyond the strip of land between the coast and the mountains,
and, indeed, that is ample for us. Our population has decreased rather
than increased since Mexico declared its independence in 1821, and took
what I have always considered the ill-advised step of expelling all the
Spanish residents about six years ago.
"Not that we in this province took any very active part in the civil
wars that for ten years raged in Central Mexico; but although the
Spanish authorities were bad masters, it must be granted that, while
they were here, there was more trade and commerce than there has since
been, and that the advantages all expected to secure from the revolution
have by no means been obtained. It is curious that the same has been the
case in the other countries that gained their independence. In Central
America there are constant troubles, in Peru things have gone backward
rather than forward, and Chile alone shows signs of enterprise and
advancement. However, these things do not concern us greatly; we live
by the land and not by trade; we have all we want, or can desire, and
subsist, like the patriarchs of old, on our flocks and herds.
"Don Juan's father, a man of vigour and courage, has shown more
enterprise than any of us, for before the beginning of the troubles he
moved far up a valley running into the heart of the mountains, and
established himself there. He had large flocks and herds, but his land
was insufficient to support them, and, in spite of the warnings of all
his friends, he determined to move. So far he has proved himself a wise
man. He began by making a sort of treaty with the Indians of that part,
by which he agreed to give them a considerable amount of blankets and
other goods if they would bind themselves not to interfere with him in
any way. These people have generally proved themselves faithless in such
matters, but this has been an exception to the rule, and I believe that
he has not lost a single head of cattle since he went out there, and he
is now undoubtedly one of the richest men on this coast. The fact that
he should send his son on to Chile to enlarge his mind and prepare him
for a trip to the United States, and even to Europe, shows the energy of
the man, and how far removed his ideas are from those of the hacienderos
in general. I can assure you that Juan's departure caused quite a
sensation in this part of the province."
"Does your father often come down here himself, Don Juan?"
"He generally comes down once a year to arrange for the disposal of the
increase of his cattle--that is to say, of the tallow and hides; as to
the meat, it is practically of no value. Of course the bullocks are
killed on the estate; the daily consumption is large, for he has upwards
of fifty peons and vaqueros, but this is a comparatively small item, for
he generally kills from eighteen thousand to twenty thousand animals;
the carcasses are boiled down for the fat, and that and the hides are
packed on great rafts and sent down to the coast. His place is only a
few miles from the Colorado River. When he comes down here, he takes up
a ship, which he sends round to Loreto, and thence up to the mouth of
the Colorado."
"How far is this place from here?"
"About two hundred miles."
"I should have thought it would have been better to have them here."
"No, there is a range of hills about half-way between his place and the
coast, across which it would be difficult to get them. Another thing is,
that there is scarce any food by the way; rain seldom falls here, and
although the land is very rich when irrigated, it affords but a scanty
growth in its wild state. A herd of twenty thousand bullocks could
scarcely exist on the road, and even if they got here, they would have
lost so much fat that they would scarce pay for boiling down."
They sat smoking in the veranda until nearly midnight, and Don Guzman
then conducted the young sailor to the chamber that had been prepared
for him.