Jerry sprang upon a horse; and shouting, "Take care er the camp!" rode
rapidly in the direction of the herd.
Telling Hal and Ned to climb the rocks and report what they saw, I
ordered the wagons to be drawn up in a line parallel with the foot of the
bluff, thus improvising a sort of corral.
The boys, by this time, had discovered eight or ten Indians following the
herders, who were driving the animals towards camp. I immediately rode
out to assist them. At the moment I reached the plain, a little puff of
white smoke rose on the air, far to the rear of the herders. A second
after, I saw a riderless horse galloping wildly towards the herd, where
he was lost to view. I urged my horse forward; and, by our combined
exertions, the animals were safely brought into camp and corralled.
These secured, we turned our attention to the Indians, who were coming
down upon us like a whirlwind.
"Don't a man fire till I give the word," said Jerry; "and remember not to
throw away a bullet."
The Indians had paused upon the plain, nearly half a mile from our camp;
and, sitting upon their horses, were evidently considering the best plan
of attack. Suddenly, two of their number turned, and rode back towards
the spot where we had first seen them.
"What can they be going back for?" asked Hal, who, rifle in hand, was
standing by Jerry's side, evidently anxious for an opportunity to wipe
out old scores.
"What are they going back for?" repeated Jerry; "why, to scalp that poor
cuss they shot, I reckon. Judge," continued he, turning toward me, "jest
you try a crack at them fellers with yer new-fashioned 'dust-raiser,'
will yer?" pointing to my Sharpe's carbine.
"I don't believe that I can reach them: it will only be throwing away a
cartridge, to make the attempt," replied I.
"Well, jest try it," continued he; "'cause, if yer could hit one of 'em,
they'd leave mighty sudden, and save us considerable trouble."
"Yes, you can reach 'em," said Ned. "I wish you would try."
Dismounting, and resting the carbine over the back of my horse, I took
careful, deliberate aim, and fired.
That the bullet did reach them, and they were badly frightened, was
evident from the suddenness with which they wheeled, and galloped over
the plain, in an opposite direction.
The next moment, Jerry grasped my shoulder, and shouted, "You hit one of
the devils, sartin."
Bringing my glass to bear, I saw one of the Indians reel in his saddle,
then recover himself a little, again waver, and finally fall to the
ground, while his horse continued on with the remainder of the party,
who, after riding some distance, stopped.
In a little time, they were joined by the two who had previously left
them. Then three of their number rode towards the spot where their fallen
comrade lay; and, securing his body, one of them took it before him on
the horse, and the whole party galloped off.
"That ere shot of yourn was a good one," said Jerry. "Tit for tat is my
rule for them varmints; an' we're even with 'em on this arternoon's work.
I reckon we'd better take a shovel along, an' bury that poor feller
that's a-lyin' there."
"Certainly, Jerry; but wouldn't it be better to bring the body in, and
bury it here?" asked I.
"We don't want the men to see it, ef we kin help it. It allus makes 'em
skeery; for there ain't nobody that wants to be cut and hacked to pieces,
ef they be dead, as them red devils have sarved that poor Mexican,
sartin."
Directing Patsey to bring a shovel, Jerry and I started on our sad
errand. After riding about a mile, we came upon the body of the dead man,
stretched upon the green grass, naked, scalped, and terribly mutilated.
For a few moments we sat upon our horses, silently gazing upon the
horrible spectacle, too much shocked to speak. The silence was broken by
Jerry, who exclaimed,--
"Ef them 'Paches ain't devils, then thar ain't no use of havin' any,
that's all I've got to say. A pictur like that ain't a very appetizin'
thing for a Traveller that's like to git ketched the same way, any day;
so I reckon we'd better git it under kiver."
A grave was soon dug; and, wrapping the poor mutilated body in my
saddle-blanket, we laid it within the narrow walls, and hastily covered
it from sight; then, remounting oar horses, silently rode back to camp.
No question was asked upon our return, and neither Jerry nor myself felt
much like talking; for the scene we had just witnessed impressed upon us
more strongly than words could have done, the responsibility as well as
constant watchfulness and care necessary in travelling through a country
so full of peril.
The miserable fate of poor Gonzales seemed to throw a gloom over the
entire camp; for it forced all to realize how beset with danger was every
step we took, and how easily it might have been one of us, lying cold in
death, instead of the poor Mexican.
We retired early, after taking every precaution possible to guard against
surprise, and I soon fell asleep, but was aroused a few hours later, by
terrific screams and howls from Patsey, who was capering around the camp
in the most ridiculous manner, executing as many singular and grotesque
gyrations as an Apache in celebrating the scalp-dance. The entire camp
was roused: even the guards rushed in from their posts to ascertain the
cause of the disturbance.
[Illustration: Patsey and the Snake.]
Neither Jerry, Hal, nor Ned could discover the cause of Patsey's terror;
for, in response to our many inquiries, he would only scratch his leg
through the rent in his trousers, and constantly jump up and down, as
though standing upon a hot griddle, all the while howling at the top of
his lungs.
Becoming, at last, thoroughly angry, I seized the boy by the collar, and
gave him such a shaking that I finally succeeded in getting an answer to
the question, as to what was the matter.
"Mather!" roared Patsey. "Mather enuff, God knows! Shnakes is the
mather!" making a desperate dive down into the leg of his pants. "I'm
bited to death wid a shnake, so I am. Can't yez all sae I'm a did mon?"
Now, as far as appearances went, Patsey was a long way from being a dead
man, for he still indulged in more lively contortions than a corpse was
ever known to execute; each movement accompanied by a yell almost loud
enough to wake the dead.
An examination revealed the fact, that the boy had heedlessly spread his
blanket over the entrance to the home of a colony of large black ants,
and the little fellows, angry at his presumption, had attacked him, in
the most spiteful manner, through the rents in his trousers. Patsey,
awakened out of a sound sleep by their stings, and remembering Ned's
adventure in the Organos mountains, had fancied himself the unfortunate
victim of a like attack. We finally succeeded in convincing him that he
was not dead, nor likely to die; and then, the camp resumed its usual
quiet.
Early in the morning, before we were ready to start, Jerry called my
attention to several "bighorns,"--or, more properly speaking,
Rocky-Mountain sheep,--that stood perched upon a high cliff which overhung
our camp several hundred feet in the air. As these were the first we had
seen upon the route, I at once called Hal and Ned to witness the sight,
who immediately proposed to make the attempt to capture one.
Jerry assured them it was impossible; for it would take hours to reach
the spot where they stood, or even to get within rifle-range of them.
This fact alone would prevent starting on a hunt, as we were exceedingly
anxious to get through the pass without being obliged to spend another
night in so dangerous a locality.
This animal is somewhat larger than the common sheep, is covered with
brownish hair instead of wool, and is chiefly remarkable for its huge
spiral horns, resembling those of a sheep, but frequently three feet in
length, and from four to six inches in diameter at the base.
It is very agile; and, secluding itself among the most inaccessible
mountain-crags, delights in capering upon the very verge of the most
frightful precipices, and skipping from rock to rock across yawning
chasms hundreds of feet in depth.
I have been assured by old hunters, that, if pursued, it will leap from a
cliff into the valley a hundred feet below, where, alighting upon its
huge horns, it springs to its feet, uninjured, its neck being so thick
and strong, that it endures the greatest shock without injury.
This animal more closely resembles the _chamois_ than any other
species found upon this continent, and is almost as difficult to capture.
After leaving the pass and coming out upon the open plain, west of the
mountains, we saw, in the distance, a wild ox.
Now the boys had, for some time, fancied that they were very expert in
the use of the lasso; and, upon seeing this ox, became seized with the
insane desire to capture him with that weapon, after the most-approved
style of the Mexican _lazador_. Remonstrance was in vain. They knew
they could do it; and away they went on their ponies, eager for the
sport, leaving the remainder of the party to watch them from a distance.
Upon their approaching near to the old fellow, he threw up his head,
elevated his tail, brandished his long horns, and, with a loud bellow of
defiance, started directly for them. The boys evidently had not
anticipated this, for they slackened their pace at the sight, riding very
slowly towards him.
As they approached, he commenced shaking his head, pawing the earth, and
bellowing furiously. Then he began to move slowly around in a circle,
throwing clouds of dust high in the air, and almost making the ground
shake with his angry bellowings; finally turning, however, he galloped
slowly away over the plain.
Away went the ox, and away went the boys after him: it was a run for life
on the one side; on the other, a chase for glory.
Hal, who was a short distance in advance of Ned, anxious to get his rope
first over the horns, finally made a cast with his lasso. At the same
moment, his pony stumbled, and away went Hal over his head, landing some
feet nearer the ox than he expected to do when he made the cast.
Ned, who was just behind, now thundered past with lasso in hand, ready
raised to take advantage of Hal's mishap. He threw it; but the noose fell
short of the object aimed at, and encircled a stout _yucca_, that
_would_ stand directly in the way.
And now the ox, as though understanding the misfortunes that had befallen
his pursuers, turned, and made a furious charge in the direction of the
already discomforted _lazadors_. Seeing him coming towards them,
with lolling tongue, protruding eyes, and angry bellowings, they began to
realize, that, in their case at least, discretion was the better part of
valor. Both turned and fled, leaving pony, lasso, and their courage,
behind them.
The race now assumed another phrase: it was for safety on the one side,
and revenge on the other.
On came the boys, Ned in the lead, on his pony, and Hal bringing up the
rear on foot; behind them, the ox, whose bellowing each moment grew
louder and more furious. Suddenly, Hal disappeared behind a clump of
mesquite; but the ox kept on in his efforts to overtake Ned, whose pony
was straining every nerve to reach the wagons in advance of his pursuer.
When the animal came within rifle-range, Jerry quietly stepped out and
shot him through the head. Ned rode up breathless, upon his panting pony,
and said to one of the Mexicans,--
"Say, Juan, how do you throw a lasso? I thought I knew all about it; but
I reckon I don't."
Hal soon came in, his hands full of thorns, his eyes full of dust, and
his clothes much the worse for his encounter with the ground, protesting,
however, that, if his pony hadn't stumbled, he should have had the old
fellow, sure.
"But your pony did stumble, and you didn't get him; nor I, either,"
remarked Ned. "And I don't think you and I had better brag any more about
lassoing until you can catch your pony down there in the
_chaparral_;" and Hal went for his pony.
The evening of the third day from the pass brought us to the head of
Quercos _cañon_, where we came upon a party of Mexicans and Papago
Indians, engaged in manufacturing _mescal_, the native whiskey of
the country.
This beverage is made from the roots of the _maguey_, a plant common
to this region. The roots are bulbous, and are gathered in large
quantities, and thrown into pits containing red-hot stones.
These being filled, they are covered with grass or brush, over which
blankets are spread. The roots are allowed to remain until thoroughly
steamed, when they are taken out, placed in sacks of rawhide and crushed,
the juice escaping into earthen vessels. It is afterwards fermented in
the sun, when it becomes an intoxicating liquor, very closely resembling
Irish whiskey in taste, smell, and effect upon the brain.
Patsey enjoyed its pungent, smoky _aroma_, with the keenest
pleasure, and, after several times tasting it, pronounced it quite "aquil
to the bist rale ould Irish whiskey," an opinion that we all endorsed
after witnessing his condition a few hours later.
While encamped here, Ned came to me and reminded me of my promise to
Patsey; saying, that one of the Mexicans had a splendid suit of buckskin,
that he would dispose of very cheap. I traded for it, and Ned arrayed
Patsey in it. Never did king, clothed in robes of royal purple, exhibit
greater pride than did Patsey in his buckskin suit. But, alas! pride must
have a fall; and, within a very few hours, I saw him sitting on the
ground, clothed in his new suit, and protesting with maudlin earnestness
that he was the "veritable Bryan O'Linn himsilf."
Three days later, we reached the old Mission of _San Xavier del
Bac_, one of the most interesting relics of the ancient Spanish rule,
to be found in this country.
It was built by the Jesuits nearly two hundred years ago, and is one of
the finest specimens of Saracenic architecture to be found on this
continent. It is located on the lands of the Papago Indians, in whose
charge it now is.
We encamped beneath the shadow of this massive pile, surrounded by the
thatched huts of the Papagos, who cluster about its cruciform walls as
though confident of its power to protect them, as it did their ancestors,
from the contaminating influences of the outside world.
These Indians are a simple, honest, industrious tribe, quite superior to
their present situation, and claim that their ancestors have occupied the
country for more than a thousand years, and were far more civilized than
themselves.
Many of them are as black as negroes, and nearly all are fine specimens
of physical beauty. Still, as a race, they, like the old church, are but
a wreck of former greatness.
A ride of eight miles brought us to the town of Tucson, through which our
wagons passed to the Pico Chico Mountain, five miles beyond, where we
made our camp.
This was formerly an old Mexican fort, and was abandoned in 1853, after
the survey of the boundary line between Mexico and the United States.
We were here informed, that the Apaches had attacked and captured a small
train that was travelling over the route we were following, only the week
before; consequently, our chances of getting through unmolested were very
good; a piece of information that we received gladly.
The boys and myself spent several hours in Tucson, looking about the
town, and its many curiosities, being especially interested in several
half-naked, dirty Apaches, which were lounging about, with large nuggets
of gold tied up in their filthy rags.
Horse-racing, wrestling, gambling, drinking mescal, and shooting people,
seemed to be the principal occupation of its inhabitants, who, as a
whole, were about as villainous a looking set of cut-throats as could be
found west of the Rio Grande.