APACHE CUNNING.
Enough has been told to prove the surpassing cunning of the two White
Mountain Apaches who served as scouts. Once they had been among the
fiercest of the followers of the fearful scourge of the border and were
fully trained in his ways.
Captain Freeman was an old campaigner and had lived sufficiently
long in Arizona to learn much of the methods of the hostiles, while
Lieutenant Decker had made the matter his study for weeks.
And yet, despite all this and the fact that each one of the four knew
that the Apache leader and his warriors were doing their utmost to lure
the horsemen to their ruin, the red men came within a hair of doing so.
Only by the merest chance or accident or providence, as it may be
termed, was the ingenious scheme detected in time to thwart it.
Naturally the eyes of the three horsemen in the background were fixed
upon Decker and Geronimo, with glances at the warriors beyond, who were
in direct range of vision, and who were watching events with apparently
the same interest.
What induced Maurice Freeman to withdraw his gaze from his young
friend and their enemies he could never explain, but he did so for a
single instant, looking to the left of the ridge, and somewhat toward
the spot where the four had been in consultation when they first
discovered the Apaches. His eyes were roving over this sandy stretch
when he saw something move. At first glance it was as if some burrowing
animal had stirred a hummock of sand, while the animal itself was
underneath and out of sight.
Wondering what it could mean, and vaguely suspecting mischief, Freeman
forgot the lieutenant and Geronimo for a minute, while he watched the
strange manifestation.
To his amazement, several places in the sand were similarly agitated,
the disturbance showing that whatever caused it was approaching the
horsemen.
Suddenly the truth flashed upon Freeman. The curious movement was
caused by several Apache warriors, who, it may be said, were burrowing
their way like moles through the sand, and making so little display of
what they were doing that even Mendez and Cemuri did not detect them,
and only the merest accident, as has been shown, revealed the dangerous
artifice to Freeman.
The Apaches had but to approach a little closer, when they would secure
an aim which would empty every saddle.
“Lieutenant!” called Freeman, “we must retreat at once or we’ll be
surrounded!”
Decker did not pause for an explanation, but whirled his horse and came
tearing back on a dead run. Before he could rejoin his comrades, they
were on the move, the scouts, now that their fears were aroused, having
been quick to learn the nature of the peril.
The flight was so sudden that the Apaches, stealing up in this
ingenious manner, did not suspect the meaning of the sudden flight
until all four had ridden some distance. Then the miscreants, of whom
there were four—just enough to carry out the scheme—still groveling in
the sand, took quick aim and fired at the fleeing horsemen.
This time one of the bullets passed through the fleshy part of Cemuri’s
thigh, inflicting a painful wound, though he made no reference to it,
and it was not discovered by his companions until some time later.
It may be admitted that only one fact saved the four from death. Each
was mounted on a horse, the equal if not the superior of any ridden
by the Apaches, although, as is well known, those people are always
provided with good animals when on their raids. If pursued, they have
the advantage of fresh horses, continually renewed while on the run
before a superior body of pursuers.
The parties had been too near each other, and without giving any time
to discussion or consultation, the four devoted the next fifteen
minutes or half an hour to skurrying off as fast as they could.
Finally, thanks to the fleetness of their animals, they drew rein and
dropped to a walk.
Before this the Apaches had discovered that it was useless to try to
overtake the little party and had given up the attempt. For the present
nothing was to be feared from them.
“There is reason to believe they will not push any further eastward,”
said Freeman, giving expression rather to his hope than his conviction.
“Why do you think that?”
“They have learned that their presence is known in this neighborhood
and that a force will be sent out from the fort, if it has not already
been sent—halloo!”
The speaker, happening to glance at Cemuri, was shocked to observe the
startling effects of his wound. The exclamation of Freeman caused the
others to note the same, and the horses came to a halt.
“That looks bad,” remarked the lieutenant; “let me examine it.”
“Huh! no hurt—soon be well,” said Cemuri, with a look of contempt, and
displeased at the expressions of sympathy.
“It may get well if it’s attended to,” was the comment of Decker, who
insisted upon an inspection of the hurt.
It did not seem to be dangerous, but it was clear that it required
attention. From the clothing of different ones were torn sufficient
bandages to stanch the flow, and despite the indifference of the scout
he must have felt extreme pain.
“I remember just such wounds in the army,” commented Freeman; “little
was thought of them at first, but many a death came from their neglect.”
“His people are tough and have little faith in surgery.”
“Which may all be the case and not affect the truth of what I have
stated.”
When the rude service was finished, the lieutenant said:
“Cemuri, you must go to the fort as soon as you can.”
The dusky face showed anger and the scout shook his head.
“Me no pappose—me warrior—me scout!”
“And a very good one too—so good that we want to save your services to
us. I don’t believe that wound will kill you, old fellow, unless it
is neglected, but it is going to lay you up for a time. You won’t be
able to do yourself justice till your leg gets well, and that will take
place sooner at the fort than in the saddle.”
Cemuri looked appealingly at Mendez. Why did he remain mute and not
come to his relief? His opinion would have great weight.
But Mendez shook his head.
“Leg no good, for one—two—tree—many days—go to fort—do what _he_ say.”
The last prop knocked from under him, the brave fellow submitted. He
was sullen, and without a word started his horse eastward toward Fort
Reno.
“I meant to give him some orders,” remarked the officer with a laugh;
“for the colonel ought to know the particulars, but the fellow is
huffy.”
“He will give the colonel all the news, have no fear about that.”
When Cemuri had ridden some distance, and had time to rally from
the irritation into which he was thrown by the command of the young
officer, he must have felt that it was all for his good. He was
suffering much; he had lost strength and was so weak, despite his
indurated frame, that he felt dizzy and weak, with occasional spells
when it was hard to keep in the saddle.
Night was drawing on, and he could not hope to reach the post until
long after darkness had come. But his horse was strong and fleet, and
such a thing as failure to complete his task did not enter his thoughts.
The stream which had been in sight so long now made a sharp curve
northward, so that it was speedily left out of sight. The ride to the
post was over the same open plain which had been traversed most of the
day. The sky was clear and the moon rose early, making the ride as
pleasant as if the sun were shining.
The American Indian, as all know, can bear with equanimity more
suffering and grievous wounds than his white brother, but there is of
necessity a limit to the toughest frame that nature ever put together,
and Cemuri, the White Mountain scout, began to suspect that he had
struck or was about to strike that limit.
He had ridden less than three miles at a swinging gallop when he
drew his horse down to a walk; the jolting of the speedier gait was
unbearable. As he made the change of pace, he first looked around to
be sure no one saw him. Then he gave expression to his views in the
form of an English expletive, altogether too vigorous to be recorded in
these pages.
In one respect the scout was specially favored: his pony was not only
well trained, but possessed unusual intelligence. He had given his
master warning many a time of the approach of danger and he now did it
once more.
The slow, steady walk through the soft sand was suddenly checked, the
pretty head elevated, the ears thrown forward, and a slightly vigorous
expiration followed through the silken nostrils, yet not loud enough to
be heard a dozen yards away.
There was but one possible interpretation of this demonstration, and
the rider knew on the instant what it was. Had he been himself, he
would have remained in the saddle, but he was in no condition to make
a fight, and he deftly dismounted, despite the stinging pain caused by
moving his limb.
No sooner were his feet on the ground than his pony lay down. His
purpose was to lessen his danger of discovery by an approaching enemy
or stranger. Cemuri knelt beside him with rifle ready for instant use.
Hardly had these precautions been taken, when two shadowy horsemen,
barely visible through the gloom, entered the field of vision and
immediately passed out again. They came from the direction of the fort
and were riding toward the little party of Lieutenant Decker. They were
Indians, and, though Cemuri could not be absolutely certain in the
gathering darkness, he was convinced that they were Maroz and Ceballos,
two Apaches whom he thoroughly distrusted.