The band was mounted by the earliest dawn, and as the notes of the bugle
died away our horses plashed through the river, crossing to the other
side. We soon debouched from the timber bottom, coming out upon sandy
plains that stretched westward to the Mibres Mountains. We rode over
these plains in a southerly direction, climbing long ridges of sand that
traversed them from east to west. The drift lay in deep furrows, and
our horses sank above the fetlocks as we journeyed. We were crossing
the western section of the Jornada.
We travelled in Indian file. Habit has formed this disposition among
Indians and hunters on the march. The tangled paths of the forest, and
the narrow defiles of the mountains admit of no other. Even when
passing a plain, our cavalcade was strung out for a quarter of a mile.
The atajo followed in charge of the arrieros.
For the first day of our march we kept on without nooning. There was
neither grass nor water on the route; and a halt under the hot sun would
not have refreshed us.
Early in the afternoon a dark line became visible, stretching across the
plain. As we drew nearer, a green wall rose before us, and we
distinguished the groves of cotton-wood. The hunters knew it to be the
timber on the Paloma. We were soon passing under the shade of its
quivering canopy, and reaching the banks of a clear stream, we halted
for the night.
Our camp was formed without either tents or lodges. Those used on the
Del Norte had been left behind in "cache." An expedition like ours
could not be cumbered with camp baggage. Each man's blanket was his
house, his bed, and his cloak.
Fires were kindled, and ribs roasted; and fatigued with our journey (the
first day's ride has always this effect), we were soon wrapped in our
blankets and sleeping soundly.
We were summoned next morning by the call of the bugle sounding
reveille. The band partook somewhat of a military organisation, and
everyone understood the signals of light cavalry.
Our breakfast was soon cooked and eaten; our horses were drawn from
their pickets, saddled, and mounted; and at another signal we moved
forward on the route.
The incidents of our first journey were repeated, with but little
variety, for several days in succession. We travelled through a desert
country, here and there covered with wild sage and mezquite.
We passed on our route clumps of cacti, and thickets of creosote bushes,
that emitted their foul odours as we crushed through them. On the
fourth evening we camped at a spring, the Ojo de Vaca, lying on the
eastern borders of the Llanos.
Over the western section of this great prairie passes the Apache
war-trail, running southward into Sonora. Near the trail, and
overlooking it, a high mountain rises out of the plain. It is the
Pinon.
It was our design to reach this mountain, and "cacher" among the rocks,
near a well-known spring, until our enemies should pass; but to effect
this we would have to cross the war-trail, and our own tracks would
betray us. Here was a difficulty which had not occurred to Seguin.
There was no other point except the Pinon from which we could certainly
see the enemy on their route and be ourselves hidden. This mountain,
then, must be reached; and how were we to effect it without crossing the
trail?
After our arrival at Ojo de Vaca, Seguin drew the men together to
deliberate on this matter.
"Let us spread," said a hunter, "and keep wide over the paraira, till
we've got clar past the Apash trail. They won't notice a single track
hyar and thyar, I reckin."
"Ay, but they will, though," rejoined another. "Do ye think an Injun's
a-goin' to pass a shod horse track 'ithout follerin' it up? No, siree!"
"We kin muffle the hoofs, as far as that goes," suggested the first
speaker.
"Wagh! That ud only make it worse. I tried that dodge once afore, an'
nearly lost my har for it. He's a blind Injun kin be fooled that away.
'Twon't do nohow."
"They're not going to be so partickler when they're on the war-trail, I
warrant ye. I don't see why it shouldn't do well enough."
Most of the hunters agreed with the former speaker. The Indians would
not fail to notice so many muffled tracks, and suspect there was
something in the wind. The idea of "muffling" was therefore abandoned.
What next? The trapper Rube, who up to this time had said nothing, now
drew the attention of all by abruptly exclaiming, "Pish!"
"Well! what have you to say, old hoss?" inquired one of the hunters.
"Thet yur a set o' fools, one and all o' ee. I kud take the full o'
that paraira o' hosses acrosst the 'Pash trail, 'ithout making a sign
that any Injun's a-gwine to foller, particularly an Injun on the
war-beat as them is now."
"How?" asked Seguin.
"I'll tell yur how, cap, ev yur'll tell me what 'ee wants to cross the
trail for."
"Why, to conceal ourselves in the Pinon range; what else?"
"An' how are 'ee gwine to `cacher' in the Peenyun 'ithout water?"
"There is a spring on the side of it, at the foot of the mountain."
"That's true as Scripter. I knows that; but at that very spring the
Injuns 'll cool their lappers as they go down south'ard. How are 'ee
gwine to get at it with this cavayard 'ithout makin' sign? This child
don't see that very clur."
"You are right, Rube. We cannot touch the Pinon spring without leaving
our marks too plainly; and it is the very place where the war-party may
make a halt."
"I sees no confoundered use in the hul on us crossin' the paraira now.
We kan't hunt buffler till they've passed, anyways. So it's this
child's idee that a dozen o' us 'll be enough to `cacher' in the
Peenyun, and watch for the niggurs a-goin' south. A dozen mout do it
safe enough, but not the hul cavayard."
"And would you have the rest to remain here?"
"Not hyur. Let 'em go north'ard from hyur, and then strike west through
the Musquite Hills. Thur's a crick runs thur, about twenty mile or so
this side the trail. They can git water and grass, and `cacher' thur
till we sends for 'em."
"But why not remain by this spring, where we have both in plenty?"
"Cap'n, jest because some o' the Injun party may take a notion in thur
heads to kum this way themselves. I reckin we had better make blind
tracks before leavin' hyur."
The force of Rube's reasoning was apparent to all, and to none more than
Seguin himself. It was resolved to follow his advice at once. The
vidette party was told off; and the rest of the band, with the atajo,
after blinding the tracks around the spring, struck off in a
north-westerly direction.
They were to travel on to the Mezquite Hills, that lay some ten or
twelve miles to the north-west of the spring. There they were to
"cacher" by a stream well known to several of them, and wait until
warned to join us.
The vidette party, of whom I was one, moved westward across the prairie.
Rube, Garey, El Sol, and his sister, with Sanchez, a _ci-devant_
bull-fighter, and half a dozen others, composed the party. Seguin
himself was our head and guide.
Before leaving the Ojo de Vaca we had stripped the shoes off the horses,
filling the nail-holes with clay, so that their tracks would be taken
for those of wild mustangs. Such were the precautions of men who knew
that their lives might be the forfeit of a single footprint.
As we approached the point where the war-trail intersected the prairie,
we separated and deployed to distances of half a mile each. In this
manner we rode forward to the Pinon mountain, where we came together
again, and turned northward along the foot of the range.
It was sundown when we reached the spring, having ridden all day across
the plain. We descried it, as we approached, close in to the mountain
foot, and marked by a grove of cotton-woods and willows. We did not
take our horses near the water; but, having reached a defile in the
mountain, we rode into it, and "cached" them in a thicket of nut-pine.
In this thicket we spent the night.
With the first light of morning we made a reconnaissance of our cache.
In front of us was a low ridge covered with loose rocks and straggling
trees of the nut-pine. This ridge separated the defile from the plain;
and from its top, screened by a thicket of the pines, we commanded a
view of the water as well as the trail, and the Llanos stretching away
to the north, south, and east. It was just the sort of hiding-place we
required for our object.
In the morning it became necessary to descend for water. For this
purpose we had provided ourselves with a mule-bucket and extra xuages.
We visited the spring, and filled our vessels, taking care to leave no
traces of out footsteps in the mud.
We kept constant watch during the first day, but no Indians appeared.
Deer and antelopes, with a small gang of buffaloes, came to the
spring-branch to drink, and then roamed off again over the green
meadows. It was a tempting sight, for we could easily have crept within
shot, but we dared not touch them. We knew that the Indian dogs would
scent their slaughter.
In the evening we went again for water, making the journey twice, as our
animals began to suffer from thirst. We adopted the same precautions as
before.
Next day we again watched the horizon to the north with eager eyes.
Seguin had a small pocket-glass, and we could see the prairie with it
for a distance of nearly thirty miles; but as yet no enemy could be
descried.
The third day passed with a like result; and we began to fear that the
warriors had taken some other trail.
Another circumstance rendered us uneasy. We had eaten nearly the whole
of our provisions, and were now chewing the raw nuts of the pinon. We
dared not kindle a fire to roast them. Indians can read the smoke at a
great distance.
The fourth day arrived and still no sign on the horizon to the north.
Our tasajo was all eaten, and we began to hunger. The nuts did not
satisfy us. The game was in plenty at the spring, and mottling the
grassy plain. One proposed to lie among the willows and shoot an
antelope or a black-tailed deer, of which there were troops in the
neighbourhood.
"We dare not," said Seguin; "their dogs would find the blood. It might
betray us."
"I can procure one without letting a drop," rejoined a Mexican hunter.
"How?" inquired several in a breath.
The man pointed to his lasso.
"But your tracks; you would make deep footmarks in the struggle?"
"We can blind them, captain," rejoined the man.
"You may try, then," assented the chief.
The Mexican unfastened the lasso from his saddle, and, taking a
companion, proceeded to the spring. They crept in among the willows,
and lay in wait. We watched them from the ridge.
They had not remained more than a quarter of an hour when a herd of
antelopes was seen approaching from the plain. These walked directly
for the spring, one following the other in Indian file. They were soon
close in to the willows where the hunters had concealed themselves.
Here they suddenly halted, throwing up their heads and snuffing the air.
They had scented danger, but it was too late for the foremost to turn
and lope off.
"Yonder goes the lasso!" cried one.
We saw the noose flying in the air and settling over his head. The herd
suddenly wheeled, but the loop was around the neck of their leader; and
after three or four skips, he sprang up, and falling upon his back, lay
motionless.
The hunter came out from the willows, and, taking up the animal, now
choked dead, carried him towards the entrance of the defile. His
companion followed, blinding the tracks of both. In a few minutes they
had reached us. The antelope was skinned, and eaten raw, in the blood!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our horses grow thin with hunger and thirst. We fear to go too often to
the water, though we become less cautious as the hours pass. Two more
antelopes are lassoed by the expert hunter.
The night of the fourth day is clear moonlight. The Indians often march
by moonlight, particularly when on the war-trail. We keep our vidette
stationed during the night as in the day. On this night we look out
with more hopes than usual. It is such a lovely night! a full moon,
clear and calm.
We are not disappointed. Near midnight the vidette awakes us. There
are dark forms on the sky away to the north. It may be buffaloes, but
we see that they are approaching.
We stand, one and all, straining our eyes through the white air, and
away over the silvery sward. There are glancing objects: arms it must
be. "Horses! horsemen! They are Indians!"
"Oh, God! comrades, we are mad! Our horses: they may neigh!"
We bound after our leader down the hill, over the rocks, and through the
trees. We run for the thicket where our animals are tied. We may be
too late, for horses can hear each other miles off; and the slightest
concussion vibrates afar through the elastic atmosphere of these high
plateaux. We reach the caballada. What is Seguin doing? He has torn
the blanket from under his saddle, and is muffling the head of his
horse!
We follow his example, without exchanging a word, for we know this is
the only plan to pursue.
In a few minutes we feel secure again, and return to our watch-station
on the height.
We had shaved our time closely; for, on reaching the hill-top, we could
hear the exclamations of Indians, the "thump, thump" of hoofs on the
hard plain, and an occasional neigh, as their horses scented the water.
The foremost were advancing to the spring; and we could see the long
line of mounted men stretching in their deploying to the far horizon.
Closer they came, and we could distinguish the pennons and glittering
points of their spears. We could see their half-naked bodies gleaming
in the clear moonlight.
In a short time the foremost of them had ridden up to the bushes,
halting as they came, and giving their animals to drink. Then one by
one they wheeled out of the water, and trotting a short distance over
the prairie, flung themselves to the ground, and commenced unharnessing
their horses.
It was evidently their intention to camp for the night.
For nearly an hour they came filing forward, until two thousand
warriors, with their horses, dotted the plain below us.
We stood observing their movements. We had no fear of being seen
ourselves. We were lying with our bodies behind the rocks, and our
faces partially screened by the foliage of the pinon trees. We could
see and hear with distinctness all that was passing, for the savages
were not over three hundred yards from our position.
They proceed to picket their horses in a wide circle, far out on the
plain. There the grama grass is longer and more luxuriant than in the
immediate neighbourhood of the spring. They strip the animals, and
bring away their horse-furniture, consisting of hair bridles, buffalo
robes, and skins of the grizzly bear. Few have saddles. Indians do not
generally use them on a war expedition.
Each man strikes his spear into the ground, and rests against it his
shield, bow, and quiver. He places his robe or skin beside it. That is
his tent and bed.
The spears are soon aligned upon the prairie, forming a front of several
hundred yards; and thus they have pitched their camp with a quickness
and regularity far outstripping the Chasseurs of Vincennes.
They are encamped in two parties. There are two bands, the Apache and
Navajo. The latter is much the smaller, and rests farther off from our
position.
We hear them cutting and chopping with their tomahawks among the
thickets at the foot of the mountain. We can see them carrying faggots
out upon the plain, piling them together, and setting them on fire.
Many fires are soon blazing brightly. The savages squat around them,
cooking their suppers. We can see the paint glittering on their faces
and naked breasts. They are of many hues. Some are red, as though they
were smeared with blood. Some appear of a jetty blackness. Some black
on one side of the face, and red or white on the other. Some are
mottled like hounds, and some striped and chequered. Their cheeks and
breasts are tattooed with the forms of animals: wolves, panthers, bears,
buffaloes, and other hideous devices, plainly discernible under the
blaze of the pine-wood fires. Some have a red hand painted on their
bosoms, and not a few exhibit as their device the death's head and
cross-bones!
All these are their coats of arms, symbolical of the "medicine" of the
wearer; adopted, no doubt, from like silly fancies to those which put
the crest upon the carriage, on the lackey's button, or the brass seal
stamp of the merchant's clerk.
There is vanity in the wilderness. In savage as in civilised life there
is a "snobdom."
What do we see? Bright helmets, brazen and steel, with nodding plumes
of the ostrich! These upon savages! Whence came these?
From the cuirassiers of Chihuahua. Poor devils! They were roughly
handled upon one occasion by these savage lancers.
We see the red meat spluttering over the fires upon spits of willow
rods. We see the Indians fling the pinon nuts into the cinders, and
then draw them forth again, parched and smoking. We see them light
their claystone pipes, and send forth clouds of blue vapour. We see
them gesticulate as they relate their red adventures to one another. We
hear them shout, and chatter, and laugh like mountebanks. How unlike
the forest Indian!
For two hours we watch their movements, and listen to their voices.
Then the horse-guard is detailed, and marches off to the caballada; and
the Indians, one after another, spread their skins, roll themselves in
their blankets, and sleep.
The fires cease to blaze; but by the moonlight we can distinguish the
prostrate bodies of the savages. White objects are moving among them.
They are dogs prowling after the _debris_ of their supper. These run
from point to point, snarling at one another, and barking at the coyotes
that sneak around the skirts of the camp.
Out upon the prairie the horses are still awake and busy. We can hear
them stamping their hoofs and cropping the rich pasture. Erect forms
are seen standing at intervals along the line. These are the guards of
the caballada.