THE EAVESDROPPER.
It would be hard to explain the course of the Apache horseman. It
looked at first as if he had been aware of the presence of the scout
for some, and was trifling with him, as a cat sometimes toys with a
mouse before crunching it in her jaws, but the peculiar circumstances
forbids this explanation.
Instead of riding directly over the prostrate figure, the buck once
more checked his animal, while several rods distant. Mendez, who was
watching him intently, then perceived that instead of looking in front
of his pony, he was gazing toward the further shore of the stream, as
if interested there. Possibly he had seen or heard something which he
did not understand.
The few seconds’ grace thus granted were improved by the imperiled
scout. Gently swaying his body, limbs and hands, he groveled and
burrowed silently into the sand, until, with the exception of his head,
he was covered. The fine particles reached even to his shoulders.
Stretched thus, perfectly motionless, an enemy might have passed within
arm’s length without observing him.
The dread of Mendez was not that the rider would see him, nor indeed
that the horse would observe him, but that the keen scent of the animal
would bring the revelation. There are many situations—and this was one
of them—in which the nose of a horse is more to be feared than the
sagacity of his rider.
Whatever the Apache was studying did not engage his attention long.
He spoke to his pony, which turned to one side and walked toward the
waiting group.
In doing this he approached still closer to the figure almost wholly
hidden in the sand. It is not probable that he saw it, but his keen
sense of smell apprised him that some man or animal was near. He
swerved suddenly to one side with a snort, and skillful as was his
rider, the movement was so abrupt that he came within a hair of being
unseated. He spoke angrily to his animal, striking his heels so sharply
against his ribs that he galloped the few remaining steps to the main
company.
No narrower escape than that of Mendez can be conceived. With all
his acumen he hardly understood why the buck failed to make an
investigation. Had he done so, discovery was absolutely certain. It
must have been that he reasoned that no such cause as the real one
could exist, so close to the other horseman, and such belief on his
part was one of the most reasonable things in the world.
But be all this as it may, it was high time that the scout effected a
change of base. Wonderful as was the good fortune that had attended
him thus far, it could not continue indefinitely: disaster impended.
It was not far to the stream which he was so anxious to reach, and yet,
despite the peril involved in remaining where he was, he decided it was
not so dangerous as to try to leave the spot while Geronimo and his men
were so near. He was now effectually hidden in the sand, for he drew
more of the particles about his head until little more than his hair
and eyes was visible.
The keen vision of the hostiles was likely to be drawn to the spot
if he resumed his backward movement toward the water. It will be
remembered, too, that the banks of the stream were so low and flat that
they could give no concealment, and the agitation that must follow his
entrance into the shallow creek was certain to catch the notice of his
enemies.
And so, on the whole, he did the best thing possible, risky as it must
be, by staying where he was.
It seemed as if the whole gamut of fear was to be run by Mendez, who
found himself in such peculiar danger. The horsemen made a shift of
position which brought them several yards nearer the prostrate figure,
who would have been glad to sink himself several feet under the ground
had it been possible.
But this supreme trial of his nerves brought its consolation, for he
was now able to hear and understand nearly everything said by his
enemies—an achievement which otherwise would have been among the
impossibilities.
A significant fact, immediately preceding this eavesdropper episode,
was the arrival of Maroz and Ceballos, who, as will be remembered, had
been sent away by Lieutenant Decker. From his curious hiding-place
Mendez recognized both, as they rode up in the bright moonlight and
joined the group as if they were friends who expected their coming.
It will be more intelligible if we give a liberal interpretation of the
conversation between Geronimo and the two arrivals.
“I am glad to look upon the face of my brothers,” said the leader, by
way of greeting; “I knew you would hasten to join us.”
“We came as soon as we could; but the soldiers watch us closely; they
distrust us, though we have done all we could to make them think us
friends.”
To this remark by Maroz, Ceballos added:
“We are eager to give the great Geronimo all the help we can.”
“Where are the soldiers?” was the pertinent query of the chief.
“We are not sure; they were a few miles to the east, near the Sutra
Valley.”
“Do they know of our coming?”
“They cannot, but others do.”
“Who are the others?”
“Lieutenant Decker, the man Freeman with him, and Mendez and Cemuri,
the traitors.”
“Who are they?”
“The white men are on the other side of the stream; they killed one of
your warriors, as I have learned; Mendez and Cemuri have left them to
watch the movements of yourself and warriors.”
“I know the renegades are with the two white men; I would give much
could I lay hands on them, but we fear them not; it is the horsemen
whom we need to look for, for they are more numerous than we.”
“If we move quickly we may strike and get away before the soldiers know
where we are,” was the wise suggestion of Maroz.
“That we would do if we could learn where the soldiers are; we must
first know that.”
In this remark, the Apache leader revealed the key of the whole
situation. He was among the most cunning of his people, and, while at
times, he assumed risks that were of the most reckless character, it
was not his rule to do so when they could well be avoided. He knew
that the alarm of his approach had spread, through some means, despite
his swiftness of movement. The American cavalry were scouting through
the country for him, and he had had too many brushes with those daring
troopers to seek another conflict, even if he did not always run away
from a fight.
The remark quoted raised the interesting question in the mind of the
eavesdropper hidden in the sand, whether, if Geronimo became convinced
that the course to the ranches to the eastward was well guarded, he
would not turn back and postpone his raid to a more propitious season.
This was the occasion when Maroz and Ceballos, had they been the
friends of the whites that they pretended to be, might have done
inestimable service by making the dreaded scourge believe that such
danger threatened him. Instead of taking this course, however, the
miscreants urged him to hasten the blow he was meditating.
“If you stay here too long,” continued Maroz, “the soldiers will know
of a certainty that you are coming.”
“But they will not know where we mean to go.”
“Mendez and Cemuri will warn them,” suggested Maroz, who, it will be
remembered, knew nothing of the wounding of Cemuri.
“They shall not live to see the sun rise!” exclaimed Geronimo, with his
old-time fierceness; “we shall slay them both; the white men with them
shall be killed; then we will turn to the southward, strike our blow
and be gone before the soldiers can learn where we are.”
It will be conceded that Mendez was acquiring a good deal of
interesting information. The question was whether he would be able to
turn it to account since his own position was more perilous than that
of any one else.
“Let Maroz and Ceballos go back to the white men; let them be vigilant,
and when the chance comes kill them both!”
“That is what we meant to do,” was the prompt avowal of Ceballos, “but
they sent us away before we had the chance; they told us to go to you,
and to fight against you; if we go back they will believe we are your
friends and they will slay us.”
There was sense in this statement of the situation, and the great
Apache leader could not fail to see it. If the two should return to
Lieutenant Decker, after being sent away, it could not fail to throw
them under suspicion, and more than likely their lives would pay the
forfeit.
But it was necessary that some one should get nearer the two than any
of the Apaches had succeeded in doing, or else no further attention was
to be given to the little party, who kept so persistently in the path
of the raiders, or Geronimo must postpone his raid, as has been stated,
to a more convenient season.
The chieftain decided upon the first expedient. He spoke to one of
his most trusted scouts and directed him to cross the stream, and by
some means slay the obstructing white men. This was an elastic order,
permitting, as it did, the widest latitude as to the means employed;
but it was all Geronimo could do, for nothing would have been more
idle than for him to give minute instructions, when he could have no
possible knowledge of the complications that would arise.
He might have called on any member of his band and the response would
have been as prompt as in the case of the veteran scout who now essayed
a task as dangerous as it was difficult.