cabin, taking every advantage of the inequality of the ground to screen
himself from observation. The opposite bank of the stream being lower
than ours, there was little danger of his being seen by the Indians,
unless some of them were in the branches of the cotton-woods. I saw him
arrive safely, and received a signal from Mr. Hopkins through a back
window. An instant later Mr. Baldwin looked out of the back door and
raised his hat. I was glad to see that his college career was still a
possibility.
Retracing my steps to the ambulance and escort, I caused the animals to
be grouped in charge of the driver and two soldiers, and with the rest
of the detail moved in the direction of the ranch buildings.
It had become so dark that we might possibly have passed over the open
space without being seen, but, for fear of accidents, we covered it on
all-fours. The first persons I met were Baldwin and Frank, who took me
to Mr. Hopkins. The ranchman greeted me with the assurance that the
arrival of my party was a Godsend, and had probably saved their scalps.
I learned that the men at Date Creek, including Baldwin, numbered seven;
that three were in the stable and four in the house. These buildings
stood the same distance from the stream, and forty feet apart. The bank
of the creek was perpendicular for nearly a mile either way, standing
fully twelve feet above the surface of the water; but there was a notch
with a sloping descent, midway between the buildings, down which the
live-stock was driven to water. This slope afforded the only practicable
point of attack, unless the Indians chose to move by one of the flanks
over a long level.
Mr. Hopkins said he had crept out to a shrub on the edge of the
precipitous river-bank to the left of the slope, just before my arrival,
and had seen on the opposite shore a small party of men moving through
the willow bushes to our left. He believed it was a flanking party
intending to make a feint from that direction, and enable the main body
to charge through the notch in the bank. Believing the repelling force
to number but seven, the Indians could but count upon the certain
success of such a movement. Their flanking party must be met, and to
meet it would reduce the defenders of the slope to a number not worth
considering.
I was convinced that Mr. Hopkins's inferences were correct; but in order
that no mistake should be made, I sent two veterans in frontier service,
Privates Clary and Hoey, to reconnoitre both flanks. They were gone half
an hour, and returned with the information that no demonstration was
being made towards our right, but that a dozen or more men had gathered
on the opposite shore at a point where they could cross and turn our
left flank.
Preparations to meet this movement were begun at once. Sergeant Frank
was sent to the ambulance with orders for the men left in charge to
bring in the animals, two at a time, and fasten them in rear of the
stable and stack. This was easily accomplished in the darkness. The
ambulance was left in charge of Vic.
While this was going on and I was overlooking the construction of
rifle-shelters on the flanks, Sergeant Henry approached and asked if he
could not be of some use. Something in the tone of the boy's voice
showed me he felt he had been neglected, while his brother had been
kept busy.
"What would you like to do?" I asked.
"Does a soldier choose his duty, sir?" was the reply, uttered with some
dignity.
"Not usually, Sergeant, it is true. I have a very important thing for
you to do--something for which I was just intending to look you up. Go
and find Clary, and tell him to help you carry several armfuls of hay
from the stack to the right of the slope. Make a heap, so that when it
is lighted it will illuminate the approach from the creek. Ask Mr.
Hopkins if he has any kerosene or other inflammable stuff to sprinkle on
the hay and make it flash up quickly. Then throw up a shelter in which
you can lie and be ready to light the hay when signalled.
"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll attend to everything."
Not more than ten minutes had elapsed when the boy sergeant returned and
reported that the bundle of hay was placed and a shelter constructed.
"Mr. Hopkins has one gallon of axle grease," said he, "two quarts of
spirits of turpentine, and a pint of alcohol."
"Excellent. Mix the alcohol and turpentine, and sprinkle the liquid and
grease on the hay. Then place yourself in the shelter, and when you see
a light flash from the west window of the house light your bonfire."
"I'll do so, sir," and the boy ran away in the darkness.
Eight men were placed in each building, three on the threatened flank
and two on the other. An hour had passed after completing our
preparations, when we became aware of a considerable force approaching
from the left. In fact, the enemy took pains to have us know of this
movement by breaking into whoops, which we recognized to be those of the
terrible Apaches. Not a sound came from the creek. I strained my eyes in
that direction, eager to catch sight of any movement through the water
toward the slope. The pool before the notch in the bank was calm, and
the reflection of the starlit sky could be seen in its surface. On the
shore beyond nothing was visible in the black darkness beneath the
pendulous branches of the willows. At last I saw the fixed reflections
of the stars in the surface of the pool diffuse themselves into myriads
of sparkling atoms. A considerable body of Indians must be in the water,
but none were in sight. Yes; they were crossing in two columns, to the
right and left of the notch, concealed by the high shore, and would
shortly unite and charge up the slope. I sent Baldwin to the stable to
tell the men there that the Apaches were coming, and to be on the alert.
The whoops of the flanking party redoubled, and were accompanied by a
desultory firing, which the three men opposing them answered in the same
way. Then I saw the sparkling water of the pool cut off from my sight,
and knew that a body of men stood on the slope between us and the creek.
"Frank, show the light. Men, ready!"
[Illustration: EVERY RIFLE IN THE HANDS OF THE WHITE MEN IN THE TWO
BUILDINGS SPOKE.]
The lantern flashed from the window, quickly answered by a flash on the
bank, and a mass of red flame threw its luminous tresses skyward,
bathing the whole scene in light. In the notch, half-way up the slope,
stood a momentarily paralyzed group of nearly a hundred painted
warriors. Every rifle in the hands of the white men in the two buildings
spoke, and instantly the notch emptied itself pell-mell of its living
throng. Only a few prostrate bodies showed the Apaches had been there.
With the discharge of firearms a silence immediately fell upon the scene
in marked contrast to the shrieking and yelling of a moment before. The
bonfire burned low, and went out. Once more we were in darkness.
We believed the Indians would make no further demonstration; for the
manner of their late reception had shown them that the ranch had been
re-enforced. We waited nearly an hour, and then placing two-thirds of
our force on the crest of the river-bank, where they could command the
opposite side, I took the remaining third and forded the stream. We
scouted the bosque to some depth, and right and left for a considerable
distance. The Indians had gathered their dead and departed. Returning to
the ranch, sentinels were posted, the ambulance run in by hand, the
stock fed, and a midnight meal cooked.
While sitting by the camp-fire, listening to the sizzling of the bacon
and sniffing the aroma of the coffee, Mr. Hopkins introduced me to his
men and guests, and I heard an explanation of the tracks and blood at
Soldiers Holes.
Early that morning three gentlemen who had passed the night at the ranch
started for Prescott. They were a Mr. Gray, a Scotch merchant of La Paz;
Mr. Hamilton, a lawyer of the same place; and Mr. Rosenberg, a
freighter. When near the Holes, Mr. Hamilton, who was riding in advance,
was shot by Indians concealed in the sage-brush. Mr. Rosenberg's mule
was wounded, and plunged so that his rider fell to the ground. Mr. Gray,
seeing the plight of the freighter, rode to his side, seized him by the
collar, and aided him to leap to a seat behind him.
It is probable that this act of generous daring might have ended in the
death of both men, but for a diversion caused by the sudden appearance
of the military express-man. He came up a slope from a lower level, and
taking in the situation at a glance, let fly three shots from his
breech-loading carbine that caused the Indians to lie low. The three men
rode to the ranch, and Mr. Hopkins and his three men accompanied them to
bring in the body of Mr. Hamilton. The Indians did not begin to
concentrate at the creek until after the burial.
Supper being over, the boys and I were getting into our blankets for the
rest of the night, when Mr. Baldwin, who had been getting ready to
depart, came near to bid us good-by.
"I seem to take frequent leave of you these times, Lieutenant," said he.
"Yes; and your farewell ride with the Whipple mail seems to be anything
but monotonous. I think the Anabasis would be a more suitable subject
for study on this route than the Memorabilia."
"'Hence they proceeded one day's journey, a distance of five parasangs,
and fell in with the barbarians,' might well be said daily of this
trip."
"Hadn't you better travel with me the rest of the way?"
"I think this is the last we shall see of the Apaches; they do not range
south and west of here. Good-by, sir."
"Good-by, until we meet at Tysons Wells."
The next morning, when the boys, Vic and I, were taking our seats in the
ambulance, Mr. Hopkins and his men, Mr. Gray and Mr. Rosenberg,
approached us mounted. They informed me that all were going to La Paz.
"The Injins are gettin' a little too thick here for sleepin' well arter
a hard day's work," said the ranchman. "Think I'll stay away till Uncle
Sam thins 'em out a leetle more."
"Can I obtain a five or ten gallon keg of you, Mr. Hopkins?" I asked.
"Ours was accidentally smashed on the road."
"Haven't a keg to my name, Lieutenant. One way 'n' ernuther all been
smashed, gin way, or lent."
The ride from the ranch to the edge of the desert plain was twelve
miles, a portion of it over a rugged ridge. To the point where we were
to ford the creek was two miles, and there the hired men, pack-mules,
and ranch cattle turned off on the Bill Williams Fork route to the Rio
Colorado.
Once on the level of the Xuacaxélla our team broke into a brisk trot,
and we rolled along with a fair prospect of soon crossing the ninety
miles between the Date Creek Mountains and La Paz. Messrs. Gray,
Rosenberg, and Hopkins soon turned into a bridle-path which led into a
mine. Before taking leave of us Mr. Gray told me that my camping-place
for the night would be at the point of the third mountain spur which
jutted into the plain from the western range.
We had not travelled long before we realized our misfortune in having
smashed our water-keg. Each individual in our party had a three-pint
army canteen, which had been filled when we forded the creek in the
early dawn. These were to last us until evening through an exceedingly
sultry day. Frank, Henry, and I did our best to overcome our desire for
water, but the younger boy could not refuse Vic a drink when she looked
up with lolling tongue to the canteens.
The men were the greatest sufferers, unless I except their horses. Long
before mid-day their canteens were empty, and their mouths so dry that
articulation was difficult, and they rarely spoke.
At five o'clock we arrived opposite the third spur, where we found a
wand sticking in the ground and holding a slip of paper in its cleft
end. It proved to be a note from Baldwin, saying that this was the place
to camp, and the Black Tanks were on the southern side of the spur, two
miles distant.
We were too thirsty to spend time in examining the scenery. The boys and
I were quickly out of the vehicle, the horses and mules were relieved of
bridles, saddles, and harness, and all but two men, who were left to
guard the property and collect fuel for a fire, were on the way to
water. Closely followed by Vic, the boy sergeants and I preceded the men
and stock. We passed through a leafless and almost branchless growth of
the giant cactus, succeeded by a thick underbrush of mezquit, which put
off our view of the height until we turned sharply to the right. Then we
saw before us a long irregular range, apparently three thousand feet in
height, which had been cleft from summit to base as if by a wedge. In
this rent we found water--water deposited in a natural reservoir by the
periodical rainfalls in millions of gallons--a reservoir never known to
be dry.
Private Tom Clary, bearing a camp-kettle and coffee-pot, had outstripped
the men driving the stock, and overtook us as we began the ascent into
the cleft. Climbing the dike which enclosed the main deposit, we
descended to the cistern, filled our cups, and swallowed the contents
without taking a breath. When we dipped up a second, Tom Clary looked
into the depths of his cup with knitted brows.
"Whist, now, b'ys!" he exclaimed. "Look into the wather! It's aloive
with wigglers of ivery variety. They're as plinty as pays in a soup."
"Ugh! And we are full of them too, Tom," said Henry, looking into his
dipper with narrow-eyed anxiety.
Pausing in the act of taking a second drink, I looked into my cup, and
saw that it contained myriads of animalcula and larvæ, which shot and
zigzagged from side to side in the liveliest manner.
"Will they hurt us, Tom?" questioned Henry.
"I rickon they've got the worst of it, Sergeant, laddy; but I think I'd
fale a bit aisier if I was blindfolded or takin' a dhrink in the dark. I
prefer me liquid refrishmint with a little less mate, not to minshin its
being less frisky."
We had come to the tanks with fresh towels, intending to wash off the
dust of travel. We now used one of them to strain the water, and were
astonished to see that each quart left behind it a plump teaspoonful of
animalcula. The water was sweet, but, after discovering the life in it,
we drank sparingly.
As we pursued the narrow path to camp in single file, we noticed Vic a
considerable distance to the right, scouting and nosing about in an
earnest manner. Evidently she thought she had made an important
discovery, for she several times looked in our direction and barked. But
we were too hungry to investigate, and soon she disappeared from sight.
When we reached the ambulance the boys put a few cakes of hard bread in
their pockets, and taking their shot-guns, went out to look for some
"cotton-tails" while supper was being prepared. Believing we were well
out of the range of hostile Indians, I did not object to their going
alone. They passed a considerable distance beyond the growth of _Cereus
giganteus_, over a level stretch covered with knee-high bunch-grass and
desert weeds, without seeing a hare. Pausing on the brink of a shoal,
dry ravine, they stood side by side, and rested the butts of their guns
upon the ground. Just then a shout of "Supper! supper!" came from the
group near the camp-fire.
"Hate to go back without anything," said Frank. "Strange we don't see a
rabbit now, when we saw dozens on the way to the tanks."
"That was because we didn't have a gun," said Henry.
"You don't believe the rabbits knew we weren't armed then and know we
are now?"
"Hunters tell bigger stories than that about 'Brer Rabbit.' Not one has
bobbed up since we got a gun."
Suddenly, from the flat surface of the plain, not twenty yards beyond
the ravine, where nothing but bunch-grass and low shrubbery had been
seen before, sprang up sixteen Indians to full height, as startlingly as
so many jacks-in-a-box.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A BATTLE ROYAL.
You ought to have seen the terrible row we had in my room last night,
The elephant plush and the calico cat and my new little pug had a fight,
And though an elephant's great and strong, and a cat has powerful claws,
My little pug-dog came out on top with the aid of his teeth and paws.
The trouble arose in the simplest way; the cat was asleep on a chair.
And the elephant plush was standing about, and sniffing the cool night
air,
When Puggy rushed in, as he sometimes does, for a romp on the bed with
me,
And tripped on the trunk of the elephant bold, and over and over went
he.
He turned two somersaults up in the air, as he tripped on the elephant's
trunk,
And then went bang 'gainst the pussy-cat's chair with a really horrible
bunk.
He bunked so hard that the chair slid back, with a bang on the side of
the door,
And the calico cat, with a hiss and a scat, came tumbling down to the
floor.
And it happened as puss came tumbling down old Puggy lay down just
below;
He'd tumbled right flat on his poor little back, a picture of trouble
and woe--
And the pussy kerflop came down on top of my new little live little
pup,
And then came a mighty old struggle in which the cat was just chewed
all up.
Pug snapped and he yawled and he rolled and he kicked, but the calico
cat held fast;
And they slid o'er the floor in a mad embrace, until, pretty near the
last,
They came to the elephant made of plush, with celluloid tusks, so rare,
Who silently stood, as I said before, a-sniffing the cool night air.
And of course when they rolled underneath his legs, the elephant came
down too--
And oh, the row, the terrible row, I'm sure would have startled you.
Those three bold friends of my nursery days now got in a terrible
plight,
But the small live pug, with his teeth and his paws, soon had much the
best of the fight.
And now to-day I am gathering up from all parts of the nursery floor
Small pieces of cotton and calico shreds and samples of plush galore.
There are eyes and ears and tails and trunks from my bed to the
wash-stand rug
That tell of the glorious victory that was won by my brave little pug.
As for Puggy himself, he's still romping away, and he hasn't a scar
to show;
Nor does he remember, as far as I see, that terrible scene of woe.
And the only effect of his fight at all is he seems to be twice as
fat,
Which may come, I cannot with certainty say, from swallowing part of
the cat.
CARLYLE SMITH.
PUBLIC-SCHOOL BOY AFLOAT.
BY RICHARD BARRY.
To the passengers on the ferry-boats crossing between New York and Long
Island City, through the sweeping tide of the East River, a view is
given of a trim-looking craft lying just astern of the old battle-ship
_New Hampshire_, moored to the Twenty-eighth-street wharf. She is very
much dwarfed in appearance by the towering top sides of the
three-decker, and during the winter months the deck-house that stretches
above her bulwarks makes her look as if her days of freedom to plough
the main were past and gone.
The vessel is the _St. Mary's_, the nautical training-ship connected
with the public-school system of New York city. From the first of
November to the middle of April she is indeed nothing but a floating
school-house, and the long shed on her deck is divided into
recitation-rooms, equipped with blackboards and chalk and benches, and
presided over by uniformed teachers.
All this sounds dry enough, even if it is connected with a ship; but the
scholars are very different in appearance from the lads who attend the
public-schools, although they are drawn from the same sources. Every boy
is togged out in the uniform of a naval apprentice, and he is very proud
of his ship and of the name on the ribbon of his cap.
Life on a sailing-vessel, that depends entirely upon the wind for her
motive power, is very different from the life on board a steamer or one
of the steel cruisers of Uncle Sam's new navy. No boy who has ever read
any of Marryat's stories, or those from the pen of Clarke Russell, but
has been filled with a desire to try the sea for himself, and if he is
able-bodied, and a boy with a good record and a desire to learn, he can
step back, as it were, into the time when Marryat's or Russell's heroes
lived and had their adventures. He can live on board the _St. Mary's_
the life of the sailor-boy of the old school, and find extant all its
pleasures and excitements. Indeed, it is not all school-work and
blackboard and chalk; there are long months of cruising in blue waters,
and strange countries to be seen, and a chance also for a fine
occupation, and good paying positions awaiting him at the end of his
term of service.
To begin at the beginning, let us see how the New York boy, who has
known nothing but the streets and the crowded houses, can accomplish all
this, and how he goes about it, and what he learns and sees.
In the first place, it must be well understood that the _St. Mary's_ is
not offered by the government as a floating reformatory for bad or
unruly boys, or to help careless parents to get rid of them. It is
exactly the reverse, and this is now well known.
Application for admission to the Nautical School must be made to the
chairman of the executive committee of the Board of Education, or made
in person to the Superintendent on board the _St. Mary's_ herself.
But to state a few of the requirements before the papers are signed and
the school-boy becomes a sailor. The applicant must be between the ages
of sixteen and twenty years. He must be of average size, sound
constitution, and free from all physical defects. This means that a
rigid examination is enforced, and the boy is measured and given tests
of strength to prove that he is worthy by nature to put on the blue suit
of service.
He must show testimonials of good character, and, of course, must have
been influenced to enter by a taste for a seafaring life, and he must
come to a decision of his own free will. The examination, outside of the
physical one, is very simple. He must be able to read and spell, to
write legibly, and to know enough of arithmetic to figure simple sums up
to and including percentage. Lastly, as the boy is not of age, his
parent or guardian must sign the necessary papers. Once enlisted, he is
maintained at the expense of the city, but has to come provided with
numerous articles necessary to a sailor. The list includes two pairs of
black leather shoes, rubber boots, one black silk hand-kerchief, one
strong jack-knife, tooth-brushes, clothes-brushes, and hair-brushes;
thread, needles, wax, tape, and buttons, and many other things to keep
him comfortable.
The blue uniform and the canvas working suit are given to him, and only
thirty dollars are required to defray the expense of clothing and
bedding for the two years' cruise.
[Illustration: SAIL-MAKING ON THE "ST. MARY'S."]
The winter's school term, which begins in November, ends on April 1,
when the boys are given a vacation of ten days and bid their farewells.
Upon their return to the ship they find the temporary deck-house taken
down, and they are put to work rigging the ship and preparing for what
they have so long been looking forward to--the summer's cruise.
About April 20 the yards are all up, and the _St. Mary's_ is
all-a-taunt-o and ready to go to sea. Now for a month, they cruise in
the waters of Long Island Sound, learning to handle ship, and then when
they have thoroughly learned their stations and the duties assigned to
them, they set sail for the far countries and foreign ports which most
of them are anxious to visit.
The writer remembers being in the harbor of Southampton, England, upon
one occasion when the _St. Mary's_ came into port. It made his heart
beat with pride to see the beautiful vessel (just as if she had sailed
out of the past history of the good old days) come sweeping in from the
Channel. All her white sails were set when she first was sighted, and
the nimble little sailors aloft began to take them in one by one as she
drew up to her anchorage.
The flag flying at her peak is the most beautiful thing to an American
to be seen in foreign countries, and proud indeed was the writer to turn
to an English friend and explain what the trim craft was, and to tell
that the crew were New York boys, and Americans every one.
[Illustration: A LESSON IN FURLING SAIL.]
Soon after she dropped her anchor and trimmed ship a boat was lowered
away, and it came dashing up to the pier. It was a pleasure to look at
the brown, healthy faces, and to notice the well-kept cadence of the
stroke pulled by the strong young arms.
Leaving one of the officers on shore, the lads pulled back to the ship,
looking curiously at the town, and longing perhaps for the liberty which
would be allowed them on the morrow.