We staked our horses upon the open plain, and, returning to the thicket,
cut down wood and kindled fires. We felt secure. Our pursuers, even
had they escaped back to the valley, could not now reach us, except by
turning the mountains or waiting for the falling of the flood.
We knew that that would be as sudden as its rise, should the rain cease;
but the storm still raged with unabated fury.
We could soon overtake the atajo; but we determined to remain for some
time at the canon, until men and horses had refreshed themselves by
eating. Both were in need of food, as the hurried events of the
preceding days had given no opportunity for a regular bivouac.
The fires were soon blazing under shelter of the overhanging rocks; and
the dried meat was broiled for our suppers, and eaten with sufficient
relish. Supper ended, we sat, with smoking garments, around the red
embers. Several of the men had received wounds. These were rudely
dressed by their comrades, the doctor having gone forward with the
atajo.
We remained for several hours by the canon. The tempest still played
around us, and the water rose higher and higher. This was exactly what
we wished for; and we had the satisfaction of seeing the flood increase
to such a height that, as Rube assured us, it could not subside for
hours. It was then resolved that we should continue our journey.
It was near midnight when we drew our pickets and rode off. The rain
had partially blinded the trail made by El Sol and his party, but the
men who now followed it were not much used to guide-posts, and Rube,
acting as leader, lifted it at a trot. At intervals the flashes of
lightning showed the mule tracks in the mud, and the white peak that
beckoned us in the distance.
We travelled all night. An hour after sunrise we overtook the atajo,
near the base of the snow mountain. We halted in the mountain pass;
and, after a short while spent in cooking and eating breakfast,
continued our journey across the sierra. The road led through a dry
ravine, into an open plain that stretched east and south beyond the
reach of our vision. It was a desert.
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I will not detail the events that occurred to us in the passage of that
terrible jornada. They were similar to those we experienced in the
deserts to the west. We suffered from thirst, making one stretch of
sixty miles without water. We passed over sage-covered plains, without
a living object to break the death-like monotony that extended around
us. We cooked our meals over the blaze of the artemisia. But our
provisions gave out; and the pack mules, one by one, fell under the
knives of the hungry hunters. By night we camped without fires; we
dared not kindle them; for though, as yet, no pursuers had appeared, we
knew they must be on our trail. We had travelled with such speed that
they had not been able to come up with us.
For three days we headed towards the south-east. On the evening of the
third we descried the Mimbres Mountains towering up on the eastern
border of the desert. The peaks of these were well known to the
hunters, and became our guides as we journeyed on.
We approached the Mimbres in a diagonal direction, as it was our purpose
to pass through the sierra by the route of the old mine, once the
prosperous property of our chief. To him every feature of the landscape
was a familiar object. I observed that his spirits rose as we proceeded
onward.
At sundown we reached the head of the Barranca del Oro, a vast cleft
that traversed the plain leading down to the deserted mine. This chasm,
like a fissure caused by some terrible earthquake, extended for a
distance of twenty miles. On either side was a trail; for on both the
table-plain ran in horizontally to the very lips of the abyss. About
midway to the mine, on the left brow, the guide knew of a spring, and we
proceeded towards this with the intention of camping by the water.
We dragged wearily along. It was near midnight when we arrived at the
spring. Our horses were unsaddled and staked on the open plain.
Here Seguin had resolved that we should rest longer than usual. A
feeling of security had come over him as he approached these
well-remembered scenes.
There was a thicket of young cotton-trees and willows fringing the
spring, and in the heart of this a fire was kindled. Another mule was
sacrificed to the manes of hunger; and the hunters, after devouring the
tough steaks, flung themselves upon the ground and slept. The
horse-guard only, out by the caballada, stood leaning upon his rifle,
silent and watchful.
Resting my head in the hollow of my saddle, I lay down by the fire.
Seguin was near me with his daughter. The Mexican girls and the Indian
captives lay clustered over the ground, wrapped in their tilmas and
striped blankets. They were all asleep, or seemed so.
I was as wearied as the rest, but my thoughts kept me awake. My mind
was busy with the bright future. "Soon," thought I, "shall I escape
from these horrid scenes; soon shall I breathe a purer atmosphere in the
sweet companionship of my beloved Zoe. Beautiful Zoe! before two days
have passed I shall again be with you, press your impassioned lips, call
you my loved: my own! Again shall we wander through the silent garden
by the river groves; again shall we sit upon the moss-grown seats in the
still evening hours; again shall we utter those wild words that caused
our hearts to vibrate with mutual happiness! Zoe, pure and innocent as
the angels." The child-like simplicity of that question, "Enrique, what
is to marry?" Ah! sweet Zoe! you shall soon learn. Ere long I shall
teach you. Ere long wilt thou be mine; for ever mine!
"Zoe! Zoe! are you awake? Do you lie sleepless on your soft couch? or
am I present in your dreams? Do you long for my return, as I to hasten
it? Oh, that the night were past! I cannot wait for rest. I could
ride on sleepless--tireless--on--on!"
My eye rested upon the features of Adele, upturned and shining in the
blaze of the fire. I traced the outlines of her sister's face: the
high, noble front, the arched eyebrow, and the curving nostril. But the
brightness of complexion was not there; the smile of angelic innocence
was not there. The hair was dark, the skin browned; and there was a
wildness in the expression of the eye, stamped, no doubt, by the
experience of many a savage scene. Still was she beautiful, but it was
beauty of a far less spiritual order than that of my betrothed.
Her bosom rose and fell in short, irregular pulsations. Once or twice,
while I was gazing, she half awoke, and muttered some words in the
Indian tongue. Her sleep was troubled and broken.
During the journey, Seguin had waited upon her with all the tender
solicitude of a father; but she had received his attentions with
indifference, or at most regarded them with a cold thankfulness. It was
difficult to analyse the feelings that actuated her. Most of the time
she remained silent and sullen.
The father endeavoured, once or twice, to resuscitate the memories of
her childhood, but without success; and with sorrow at his heart he had
each time relinquished the attempt.
I thought he was asleep. I was mistaken. On looking more attentively
in his face, I saw that he was regarding her with deep interest, and
listening to the broken phrases that fell from her lips. There was a
picture of sorrow and anxiety in his look that touched me to the heart.
As I watched him, the girl murmured some words, to me unintelligible,
but among them I recognised the name "Dacoma."