After so fatiguing a march, it was necessary to make a longer halt than
usual. We stayed by the arroyo all that day and the following night.
But the hunters longed to drink from the Prieto itself; and the next
morning we drew our pickets, and rode in the direction of that river.
By noon we were upon its banks.
A singular stream it was, running through a region of bleak, barren, and
desolate mountains. Through these the stream had forged its way by
numerous canons, and rushed along a channel at most places inaccessible.
It was a black and gloomy river. Where were its sands of gold?
After riding for some distance along its banks, we halted at a point
where its bed could be reached. The hunters, disregarding all else,
clambered eagerly over the steep bluffs, and descended to the water.
They hardly stayed to drink. They crawled through narrow interstices,
between detached masses of rock that had fallen from above. They lifted
the mud in their hands, and washed it in their cups; they hammered the
quartz rock with their tomahawks, and pounded it between great stones.
Not a particle of the precious metal could be found. They must either
have struck the river too high up, or else the El Dorado lay still
farther to the north.
Wet, weary, angry, uttering oaths and expressions of disappointment,
they obeyed the signal to march forward.
We rode up the stream, halting for the night at another place where the
water was accessible to our animals.
Here the hunters again searched for gold, and again found it not.
Mutinous murmurs were now spoken aloud. "The gold country lay below
them; they had no doubt of it. The chief took them by the San Carlos on
purpose to disappoint them. He knew this would prevent delay. He cared
not for them. His own ends were all he wanted to accomplish. They
might go back as poor as they had come, for aught he cared. They would
never have so good a chance again."
Such were their mutterings, embellished with many an oath.
Seguin either heard not or did not heed them. He was one of those
characters who can patiently bear until a proper cue for action may
offer itself. He was fiery by nature, like all Creoles; but time and
trials had tempered him to that calmness and coolness that befitted the
leader of such a band. When roused to action, he became what is styled
in western phraseology a "dangerous man"; and the scalp-hunters knew it.
He heeded not their murmurings.
Long before daybreak, we were once more in our saddles, and moving
onward, still up the Prieto. We had observed fires at a distance during
the night, and we knew that they were at the villages of the "Club"
Apache. We wished to pass their country without being seen; and it was
our intention, when daylight appeared, to "cacher" among the rocks until
the following night.
As dawn advanced, we halted in a concealed ravine, whilst several of us
climbed the hill to reconnoitre. We could see the smoke rising over the
distant villages; but we had passed them in the darkness, and instead of
remaining in cache, we continued on through a wide plain covered with
sage and cactus plants. Mountains towered up on every side of us as we
advanced. They rose directly from the plains, exhibiting the fantastic
shapes which characterise them in those regions. Their stupendous
precipices overlooked the bleak, barren tables frowning upon them in
sublime silence. The plains themselves ran into the very bases of
these, cliffs. Water had surely washed them. These plateaux had once
been the bed of an ancient ocean. I remembered Seguin's theory of the
inland seas.
Shortly after sunrise, the trail we were following led us to an Indian
crossing. Here we forded the stream with the intention of leaving it
and heading eastward.
We halted our horses in the water, permitting them to drink freely.
Some of the hunters, moving ahead of the rest, had climbed the high
banks. We were attracted by their unusual exclamations. On looking
upward, we perceived several of them standing on the top of a hill, and
pointing to the north in an earnest and excited manner. Could it be
Indians?
"What is it?" shouted Seguin, as we pushed forward.
"A gold mountain! a gold mountain!" was the reply.
We spurred our horses hurriedly up the hill. On reaching its top, a
strange sight met our gaze. Away to the north, and as far as the eye
could see, an object glistened in the sun. It was a mountain, and along
its sides, from base to summit, the rocks glittered with the bright
semblance of gold! A thousand jets danced in the sunbeams, dazzling the
eye as it looked upon them. Was it a mountain of gold?
The men were in a frenzy of delight. This was the mountain so often
discussed over the bivouac fires. Who of them had not heard of it,
whether credulous or not? It was no fable, then. There it was before
them, in all its burning splendour.
I turned to look at Seguin. His brow was bent. There was the
expression of anxiety on his countenance. He understood the illusion;
so did the Maricopa; so did Reichter. I knew it too. At a glance I had
recognised the sparkling scales of the selenite.
Seguin saw that there was a difficulty before us. This dazzling
hallucination lay far out of our course; but it was evident that neither
commands nor persuasion would be heeded now. The men were resolved upon
reaching it. Some of them had already turned their horses' heads and
were moving in that direction.
Seguin ordered them back. A stormy altercation ensued; in short, a
mutiny.
In vain Seguin urged the necessity of our hastening forward to the town.
In vain he represented the danger we were in of being overtaken by
Dacoma's party, who by this time were upon our trail. In vain the Coco
chief, the doctor, and myself, assured our uneducated companions that
what they saw was but the glancing surface of a worthless rock. The men
were obstinate. The sight, operating upon long-cherished hopes, had
intoxicated them. They had lost all reason. They were mad.
"On, then!" cried Seguin, making a desperate effort to restrain his
passion. "On, madmen, and satisfy yourselves--our lives may answer for
your folly!" and, so saying, he turned his horse, and headed him for the
shining beacon.
The men rode after, uttering loud and joyful acclamations.
At the end of a long day's ride we reached the base of the mountain.
The hunters leaped from their horses, and clambered up to the glittering
rocks. They reached them. They broke them with their tomahawks and
pistol-butts, and cleft them with their knives. They tore off the
plates of mica and glassy selenite. They flung them at their feet,
abashed and mortified; and, one after another, came back to the plain
with looks of disappointment and chagrin. Not one of them said a word,
as they climbed into their saddles, and rode sullenly after the chief.
We had lost a day by this bootless journey; but our consolation lay in
the belief that our Indian pursuers, following upon our trail, would
make the same detour.
Our course now lay to the south-west; but finding a spring not far from
the foot of the mountain, we remained by it for the night.
After another day's march in a south-easterly course, Rube recognised
the profiles of the mountains. We were nearing the great town of the
Navajoes.
That night we encamped on a running water, a branch of the Prieto that
headed to the eastward. A vast chasm between two cliffs marked the
course of the stream above us. The guide pointed into the gap, as we
rode forward to our halting-place.
"What is it, Rube?" inquired Seguin.
"'Ee see that gully ahead o' us?"
"Yes; what of it?"
"The town's thur."