THE END OF A NOBLE LIFE
Carlos and Carlota also rose. They did not know what these new friends,
who had met and fed them, would do, but they felt that they were not
yet to part company. The Captain settled it:
“Youngsters, I’m on the ‘war path,’ and I’ve tarried too long already.
Since to leave you alone would be worse for you, you’ll have to take
the chance of trouble and go with us.”
He was vexed and stern. He hated the charge of two children upon his
hazardous chase after the troublesome Apaches, whom he was determined
to punish if he could meet them.
“If it comes to a fight between the redskins and us, ‘the boys around
the monkey’s cage had better get away,’” remarked a subaltern to his
neighbor.
The Captain overheard and grimly smiled.
“Master Facetious may desire to ‘get out of the way’ himself.” Then to
the children: “Do you both ride one horse?”
“Yes, Señor Gray Moustache, our Benoni. But he acts terr’ble queer.”
“Sergeant, see what’s up with the beast.”
Saluting, the man replied:
“Captain, I reckon it’s all ‘up’ with him.”
“What? You don’t mean it! That adds to the charm of the situation. Not
a led horse in the squad. Not even a mule.”
The perplexed officer hurried where Benoni lay upon his side, piteously
gazing upon his young mistress. In his eyes was a sure intelligence.
He knew perfectly that the march was to be resumed--and not by him. In
that cavern down which he had slipped and stumbled during that dreadful
“norther,” and out of which he had struggled by an almost impossible
effort, he had received some mortal hurt. He could not tell them his
agony. He could not cry out, as a human would, but he could and must
beseech them--not to leave him!
As yet, Carlota did not understand. She saw that her beloved horse
was loath to rise and she bent over him with a jesting reproof which
strangely moved her hearers.
“Come, Noni! You darling, old, lazy fellow! Come. We’re going now.”
More than one soldier smiled at her trustfulness in themselves, yet
sighed to think she was there. She was a brave little thing, yet
bravery counts for nought with a maddened redskin. They had found
traces of the Apaches and knew they had struck the right trail. A
conflict was inevitable. But Carlota only knew of her horse’s distress,
as she cried:
“Benoni, dear! Darling Benoni! What is the matter? Can’t you, won’t
you, get up? I’ll walk all the way. So will Carlos. But we can’t leave
you here. You’ll have to come, too. You’ll feel better, by and by. With
all these nice, nice horses to keep you company. Not alone any longer,
Benoni. Lots of horses, Noni.”
The listening officers exchanged glances. They could not further delay.
On account of these children they had already lost valuable time, and
to waste more, because of a pet horse, would be impossible. So the
Captain laid his hand on Carlota’s shoulder, saying:
“My little girl, we must go now. Your pretty beast will have to stay.
Bravely say good-by to him and come.”
“Good-by? To Benoni Manuel? Alone in the woods? Why, you must be--you
must have forgotten that Benoni saved our lives!”
“And so lost his own, my dear.”
“But he hasn’t lost it. He’s alive.”
“Scarcely. Very soon he will have passed away.”
Carlota’s heart felt very queer. She turned faint. When she loved
anything--and she loved most things--it was with all her soul.
Hitherto, death had meant nothing to her; but now, looking into the
sober face of her new friend and the appealing eyes of her pet, the
sadness and finality of it struck her like a blow.
She went down upon the ground and tried to lift Benoni’s head upon her
knee, but she could not, it was too heavy. Yet she could and did throw
her arm over his neck and press her wet cheek to his delicate nostrils.
“Benoni! Benoni! The ‘Good’! You mustn’t die--I can’t bear it! I
cannot. Carlos, come! Maybe he’ll hear you if he doesn’t me. Come, come
quick! He never disobeyed us, never. He won’t now. But say it sharp,
brother. I can’t. Tell him to get up. That we’ll take him home. We
will. We’ll let the other go. Straight home--if only--”
Carlos knelt beside her. Both had now become oblivious of the soldiers’
presence. Their first great sorrow had them in its grip. Though their
mother had died they had been too young to know her loss. Their father
had left them, for a time, but he would return. Yet this relentless
thing which was stealing Benoni--how could they bear it?
Silence closed about the central group. A horse is more to a cavalryman
than to others, and the Captain stood with bent head, eager to be
away, yet loath to disturb the sacredness of that moment. The young
subaltern, whom his superior had dubbed “Facetious,” felt a strange
pain in his throat. Till then the raid had been a “lark,” a something
to break the monotony of camp life. Full of enthusiasm concerning his
first skirmish with the redskins, the possible outcome of the affair
had not entered his mind. Suddenly, he seemed to see his mother’s
face. As that noble Benoni was dying in the wilderness so might he
die--that very day.
All at once Benoni groaned and desperately tried to lift his head.
His eyes brightened, his ears bent forward, his whole attitude was
that of intent listening. He was frontier born and bred. He had been
in a deadly conflict between white men and savages, and he had not
forgotten. Horses never forget that which has terrified them in their
youth. Something too faint for ears not sharpened by agony was on the
air. Would those whom he loved hear it in time?
“Noni! You precious! You are trying to tell us something! What is it,
my pretty beastie? Oh! you brave, beautiful fellow! I cannot remember
when you weren’t always with us. You must not, must not die now!”
Poor Noni! It was useless. They would not be warned. He could serve
them no further. His dumb, silent life had been one long example of
duty faithfully performed. His virtues had been many, his faults few.
He had been well loved and he had loved much. He had done what he
could and he would sleep now. His glazing eyes fixed on the face of his
little mistress, but she could not see his parting gaze because of the
tears which filled her own.
Just then, while the deeply moved old Captain stooped to raise Carlota
to her feet, the sanctity of the forest death-chamber was invaded.
“Sw-w-ish!”
Something whizzed swift and sharp between soldier and child, grazing
his shoulder and her blond curls, and buried itself in the herbage a
dozen feet away.
It was the arrow of an Apache!