Next day he followed his hunting with increased ardour. He was now
provided with the means of transport to any amount. There was no fear
he should have to leave either his robes or tasajo behind. With his own
mules, he had now thirty-five; and that number, with the three carretas,
would carry a splendid freight--of the value of hundreds of dollars.
He had already obtained some dressed robes from the Indians. For these
he had parted with everything for which an Indian would trade. Even the
buttons from off his jacket and those of his men, the bullion bands and
shining tags of their sombreros--everything about them that glittered!
Their arms of course not. These the Wacoes did not want. They had
similar ones themselves, and could manufacture them at will. They would
have purchased the long brown rifle; but that was a souvenir Carlos
would not have parted with for a score of mules.
For the next day or two the cibolero continued his hunting. He found
the buffalo grow every hour more excited and wild. He noticed, too,
that the "running" gangs came from the north, while the Wacoes were
hunting to the southward of his camp! It could not be the latter that
were disturbing them. Who then?
On the third night after his trade with the Indians, Carlos had retired
to rest with his people. Antonio kept watch until midnight, at which
hour he was to be relieved by one of the peons.
Antonio had grown very sleepy. His hard riding after the buffalo had
wearied him; and he was doing his best to keep awake for the last
half-hour of his vigil, when a snort reached his ears from the direction
of the _mulada_.
This brought him to himself. He placed his ear to the ground and
listened. Another snort louder than the first came from the _mulada_--
another--and another--quick in succession!
"What can it mean? Coyotes? or, perhaps, a bear? I shall wake my
master," said Antonio to himself.
Stealing gently to the side of Carlos, the half-blood shook the sleeper
by the arm. A slight shake was enough, for in an instant the cibolero
was upon his feet and handling his rifle. He always resorted to this
weapon in cases of danger, such as a hostile attack by Indians, using
his bow only in the chase.
After a word or two had passed between Carlos and Antonio the three
peons were awaked, and all five stood to their arms. The little party
remained in the midst of the carretas, which had been drawn up so as to
form a small triangular corral. The high boxes of these would be an
excellent protection against arrows; and, as there was no fire in the
camp to make a light, they could not be seen from without. The camp,
moreover, was shadowed by the thick foliage of the mulberries, which
rendered it still more obscure; while its occupants commanded a view of
the prairie in front. But for the wood copses which stood at intervals,
they could have seen the whole ground both up and down the valley and
along its sides. These copses, however, might have concealed any number
of foes.
The hunters remained silent, listening intently. At one time they
fancied they could see a dark form crouching along the ground in the
direction of the _mulada_, that was picketed not a hundred yards off.
The light, however, was so uncertain, not one of the five could be sure
of this. Whatever it was, it moved very slowly, for it appeared to
remain near the same spot.
Carlos at length set himself to observe it more closely. He stole out
from the corral, and, followed by Antonio, crawled along the ground.
When the two had got nearer the dark object, it was distinctly seen to
move.
"There _is_ something!" whispered the cibolero.
At that moment the mules again snorted, and one or two of them struck
the ground with their hoofs, as if startled.
"It must be a bear, I fancy," continued Carlos. "It has the appearance
of one. It will stampede the animals--a shot will be less likely to do
so."
As he said this he raised his rifle, and, taking aim as well as the
darkness would allow him, pulled trigger and fired.
It seemed as if the shot had invoked all the demons of the infernal
regions. A hundred voices burst forth in one simultaneous yell, the
hoofs of a hundred horses rang upon the turf, the _mulada_ got into
motion, the mules squealing and plunging violently, and the next moment
every one of them had broken their lariats, and were running at a
furious gallop out of the valley! A dark band of yelling horsemen was
seen closing in after and driving them off; and, before Carlos could
recover from his surprise, both mules and Indians had disappeared out of
sight and hearing!
Not a single one remained of the whole _mulada_. The ground upon which
they had been picketed was swept perfectly clear!
"An estampeda!" said the cibolero, in a husky voice; "my poor mules--all
gone--_every_ one of them! A curse upon Indian duplicity!"
Carlos had not the slightest doubt but that the marauders were the
Wacoes--the very same from whom he had purchased the mules. He knew
that such an occurrence was by no means rare--that oftentimes the
traders are robbed in this way; and not unusual is it for them to
purchase a second time the very animals thus carried off, and from the
same Indians who have stolen them!
"A curse upon Indian duplicity!" he repeated with indignant emphasis.
"No wonder they were so free and generous in their barter! It was but a
plot on the part of the cowardly thieves to take from me my whole cargo,
without daring to do so openly. _Carajo_! I am lost!"
This last phrase was uttered in a tone that partook equally of anger and
grief.
The cibolero was certainly placed in an unpleasant situation. All his
hopes--lately running so high--were crushed in a single moment. His
whole property taken from him--the object of his enterprise lost--his
long, perilous, and painful journeyings made for nothing. He should
return empty-handed, poorer than when he set out--for his own five
pack-mules were gone among the rest. The oxen, and his faithful steed,
tied to the carretas, alone remained. These would scarce serve to carry
provision for himself and party on their journey home; no cargo--not a
bale of hides--not a "bulta" of meat more than would be required for
their own food!
These reflections all passed through the mind of the cibolero in the
space of a few moments, as he stood gazing in the direction in which the
marauders had gone. He made no attempt to follow--that would have been
worse than useless. On his splendid horse he might have overtaken
them--only to die on the points of their lances!
"A curse upon Indian duplicity!" he once more repeated; and then, rising
to his feet, walked back to the corral, and gave orders for the oxen to
be drawn close up and firmly fastened to the carretas. Another surprise
might be attempted by some lingering party of the savages; and, as it
would be unsafe to go to sleep, the cibolero and his four companions
remained awake and on the alert for the remainder of the night.