some mounted and some on foot. The pony herd, which must number
several hundred, is in charge of three naked Indians--boys, I think.
There are no other persons in sight. Take a look for yourself."
Frank accepted the glass and surveyed the valley. "I can see nothing
that looks like Henry," he said. "He certainly cannot be there. Why
are those boys so ghostly white?"
"They are covered with yeso to protect them from sunburn."
"Oh yes--whitewash."
"Gypsum. The Mexicans use it for whitewash, and to preserve the
complexion."
"Well, those boys must have plastered it on thick; they look like
living statues. Not a rag on them except 'breech-clouts.' Hello, there
comes a troop around that mound to the right. Must be two hundred
men."
Taking the glass, I looked again. Coming into sight from the opposite
side of an elevation on the farther side of the valley was a party of
two hundred and fifteen Navajo warriors. They rode to each flock of
sheep in succession, stopped near the women a few moments, and then
came down to the pony herd. They approached the boys, and one large
Indian, who appeared to be the chief, lifted the smaller boy out of
his saddle, and, swinging him to his shoulder, dashed around the herd
at full speed, and then set him back in his own saddle, and patted him
approvingly on the back.
The party next proceeded to exchange the ponies they were riding for
fresh ones from the herd, and then disappeared behind the trees which
bordered the brook to the west.
"The pony that small boy rides looks like Chiquita," remarked Frank;
"but the saddle and bridle are different. Señora Perea said that
Manuel was herding ponies for the Navajos, and that he was naked."
"Yes, I know; but the letter Vic brought from Henry made no mention of
another boy, and there are three with that herd. But let us make the
signal and see what will happen."
Standing up and advancing to the edge of the butte's top, I waved my
handkerchief from side to side, keeping my eyes fixed upon the three
boys. They formed in line, facing us, looked long in our direction,
and then, as if started by a spring, they flew down the plain, leaped
the brook, and galloped up the long ascent towards the concealed
cavalrymen.
X
THE CORPORALS ARE PROMOTED
The three Indian boys were doing their utmost to excite their ponies
to their greatest speed up the height. As they sped on they glanced
repeatedly backward, as if fearing pursuit. Higher and higher they
came up the steep until we could not doubt it was their intention to
reach the command.
"What does it mean? What does it mean?" exclaimed Frank. "Why are
those Navajo boys running their horses in this direction? It can't
be--"
"Never mind, Frank," I interrupted. "Let us get down to the men as
soon as we can. The Indian women are already riding after the
war-party."
At considerable risk to life and limb we slid down the ragged angle
which we had ascended, and hurried to where Baldwin and the soldiers
stood beside their saddled steeds.
We had barely reached the crest from which we could see the valley
when the three whitewashed boys appeared on their panting and foaming
animals, the little one on the buck-skin pony in the lead.
"What in the world is this?" exclaimed Baldwin. "Three whitewashed
young redskins! What do they want of us?"
"Here we are!" shouted a familiar voice, in excellent English. "Here
we are--Manuel, Sapoya, and I!"
Before we could sufficiently recover from our surprise, or, rather,
calm our joyful realization of a hope born of the boys' start from the
valley below, they were among us, and Henry had sprung from his horse
and embraced his brother, leaving a generous coating of _yeso_ upon
the army blue. Tears of joy had ploughed two streaks through the
whiting on his face, and lent a comical effect to the boyish
countenance. A general handshake ensued, and Corporal Frank asked,
"Where are your clothes, Henry?"
"Confiscated by the chief Elarnagan."
"Not to wear?"
"Well, no; I think they might prove baggy on his diminutive person."
"Then why did he take them?"
"He has a numerous progeny, and the young Elarnaganitos have an
article apiece. My saddle and bridle went to Mrs. Elarnagan. She rides
astride, you know."
"When did the chief take your clothes?"
"Just as soon as I arrived in the valley my horse and I were stripped
of--But hold on, Frank; what am I thinking of?" and Henry ran to one
of the other boys, a graceful youngster whose perfect limbs and
handsome face the _yeso_ could not mask, and who sat his horse as if
he were a part of the animal. Saying something to him in an undertone,
the boy dismounted and approached me with Henry, who said, in Spanish:
"This is Manuel Augustine Perea y Luna, of Algodones. It is he who
planned the escape when I told him there were soldiers near."
I took the Mexican boy's hand and assured him of the great happiness
his escape afforded me, and the greater happiness it would afford his
mother and relatives.
Frank approached, took Manuel's hand, and then dropped it to give him
a hearty and brotherly embrace.
"Ah, Manuelito mio, I dreamed many dreams of rescuing you as we
marched through this country, but I never believed they would be
realized," he said.
"But the little Enrique acted, and I am here," laughed Manuel.
"And Frank acted, too," said I, "as you shall soon hear; and you will
learn that it took both boys to effect your rescue."
"Pardon me," replied Manuel, "but it is not safe to remain here
longer. Elarnagan, whom you saw leaving the valley with his warriors,
is intending to move down the Lithodendron to attack your train
somewhere on the Colorado Chiquito."
At the close of his remarks Manuel turned away, as if to mount his
horse, and then, as if correcting an oversight, he said, "Wait one
moment, sir." Going up to the third boy, he spoke a few words to him
in an unknown tongue. The boy sprang to the ground and came forward.
"This is Sapoya," continued Manuel, "a Cherokee boy, whom I found a
captive when I joined Elarnagan's band. He is my brother, and will go
with me and share my home."
Sapoya extended his hand and clasped mine. He was a handsome Indian
boy, about the same age and height as his friend. He addressed me in
Navajo, which was interpreted by Manuel: "I am glad to meet one who
has helped to open the broad land again to my brother and me. But our
horses stand still, while those of our enemy fly to retake us."
Evidently the Mexican and Cherokee boys had no desire to again fall
into the hands of the Navajo chief. We made no further delay, but
mounted and forced our animals down the mountain defiles as rapidly as
possible. As soon as the route would permit, Henry and Manuel rode on
each side of Frank, and I heard the former ask about Vic. Frank
answered in Spanish, so that the Mexican boy might understand. Such
expressions as "La perra brava!" "La fina perrita Vic!" from time to
time showed they were hearing of Vic's adventures.
[Illustration: "'GOD HAS GIVEN ME, AMONG MANY FRIENDS, TWO THAT ARE
SOMETHING MORE'"]
Finding that Corporal Frank was not doing himself justice in his
narration, I drew alongside the boys and related what I knew of
Frank's midnight ride and rescue of Vic, an event which, had it not
occurred, would have left Henry and his friends still in captivity. At
the conclusion of my tale Manuel changed his position from the flank
to one between the brothers, and, taking a hand of Frank in his left,
and one of Henry's in his right, rode on a few moments in silence.
Then he said: "God has given me, among many friends, two that are
something more. But for your brave acts I should still be a captive.
Thank you for myself, my dear mother, and Sapoya."
Having reached the wagon-road crossing of the Carizo, we turned at a
canter over the divide between it and the Lithodendron. As we rose
above a terrace our attention was attracted to two mounted Indians
scurrying off into the broken and higher country on our right.
"Ah, look!" shouted Manuel; "they expected to stop three naked,
unarmed boys, and they are surprised to meet a troop of cavalry! Viva
los Estados Unidos! Run, you sheep-stealers, we are safely out of your
hands!"
Upon reaching the summit of the divide the whole war-party stood
revealed, far to our right, out of rifle-shot. Plainly, our presence
was a great surprise to them. Although they greatly outnumbered us,
the country was too open for their system of warfare, and they were
poorly armed. They stood sullenly aloof, and allowed us to canter past
unmolested.
Just as our rear was passing them we noticed a solitary warrior
advance and show a white cloth.
"That is Elarnagan," said Manuel. "He wants to speak with you."
Accompanied by the Mexican boy to act as interpreter, I advanced to
the chief. He took my hand with dignity, and said he accepted the loss
of his pale-faced captives as the fortune of war, but he demanded the
return of Sapoya. He said that in a fight with the Utes, ten years
before, his people had captured a Cherokee chief, who was visiting
that tribe with his wife and child. The chief and his wife had died,
and he, Elarnagan, had brought up the child as his own. He asked that
Sapoya be restored to him.
I called the Indian lad to me and, repeating the words of the chief,
said, "You may answer for yourself."
"Sapoya says to the bravest warrior of the Navajos, that he is
grateful for all the favors that he has received, and that he thinks
he has returned by hard service ample payment for all. He brought
parents, three horses, and ample clothing to the Navajos; he takes
nothing away but the pony he rode. He has shared his blanket and food
with his brother, Manuel, for these many moons, undergoing fatigue and
exposure with him, until his heart beats as one with his comrade's,
and he desires to go with him to his home and become one of his
people."
The chief said nothing in reply, but advancing gave his hand in amity
to both boys, and rode back to his people.
"He is a good chief and a brave one," said Manuel, as we rejoined the
command, "but I should cherish kindlier memories of him if he had
given us some clothing and an extra blanket."
Later, as we were riding slowly out of the bed of Lithodendron, Frank
said, "I do not see how the Indians came to spare Vic."
"One of them did attempt to kill her, but I threw my arms about her
and the chief patted her head and gave orders that she should not be
hurt. I think if her collar had not been taken off at Laguna she would
have been killed in a scramble to possess it. Even Elarnagan would
have considered her life worthless compared with the possession of
such a beautiful trinket."
"The chief seems to have taken quite a liking to Corporal Henry," I
remarked.
"Not enough to allow him to retain his clothing," said Manuel; "but he
would not permit him to be deprived of his pony. Perhaps you saw him,
when you were on the butte, dash round the herd with Henry on his
shoulder?"
"Frank and I saw it," I answered.
"He said, when he placed Henry back upon Chiquita, 'He will make a
brave chief.'"
Camp was reached a little after dark, and the boys plunged into the
river to remove the _yeso_, and then dressed themselves in civilized
garments, Henry drawing on his reserve, and the others from the
quartermaster's stores.
Had not Victoriana been a modest doggie, the amount of praise and
attention she received from the four boys would have turned her head;
and the boys themselves had no reason to complain of the kindly
congratulations they received from the infantry company.
Word was sent to Lieutenant Hubbell that Manuel Perea had been
rescued, and the following morning all the New Mexicans not on duty
rode into camp to congratulate the boy upon his escape. Spanish cheers
and Spanish felicitations filled the air for an hour.
When the volunteers had gone and quiet was resumed, Brenda came, and
her delight at seeing the boys again showed itself in ceaseless
caressings of Vic and many requests for a repetition of the account of
their flying ride when the signal was waved from the butte. When she
at last withdrew, to repeat the story to her relatives, the corporals
and I wrote a letter to Señora Perea, to be delivered by her son. In
my portion I related the circumstances attending his recovery,
detailing the part taken by the boy corporals, the dog, and the troop.
I said no one desired to claim the generous reward she had offered,
since no one in particular had rescued Manuel; many things had
combined to enable him to escape. If the lady insisted upon paying
the reward, we all desired that it should be devoted to the education
of Sapoya.
Frank added a few lines, and Henry closed the letter. The younger
corporal wrote:
"I've laughed with the rest over my two days' captivity
among the Navajos, and made light of it. I don't mind
telling you that after shivering through two nights without
clothes and without enough blankets, being bitten by
mosquitoes and flies, and scorched daytimes by the sun, I
begin to think Manuel a great hero.
"You know when I saw you I told you I was going to bring
back Manuel or be a prisoner with him. That, of course, was
all foolish talk, for I planned nothing. To be sure, I was a
prisoner with him for two days and had something to do about
bringing him back, but it all happened without planning. It
seems as if God directed us all through. Frank, Vic, the
soldiers, officers, and myself--even the dry time from
Jacob's Well to the Lithodendron--all had something to do
with finding Manuel.
"About the reward the lieutenant speaks of, we think none of
us deserve it. We've talked it over, and we think if you
would give Sapoya a chance at school, and if you cannot make
a white boy of him make him an educated man, that would be
the best reward. He's very intelligent, and if he can have a
good chance will learn fast.
"Frank and I have a scheme we hope you will approve of. Mr.
Duncan has secured a detail from the War Department to a
boys' military school in the States as instructor in
tactics, and will probably go in November. We are intending
to ask papa to let us join that school after the Christmas
holidays. We want you to send Manuel and Sapoya there. Won't
you, please? Be sure and say yes. Think what a fine chance
it will be for Sapoya.
"You know we boys feel something more than a friendship for
one another. I suppose it is like the comradeship of
soldiers who have stood shoulder to shoulder in battle.
There is a tie uniting us that is closer and firmer than
friendship; we feel more like brothers.
"We will write often. Hoping Manuel will arrive home safe,
and that he may never again be a captive,
"I remain your friend,
"HENRY BURTON."
Our letters were despatched by Manuel and Sapoya to Lieutenant
Hubbell's camp, where Captain Bayard directed the boys to await the
detachment of New Mexican cavalry which had accompanied us from the
Rio Grande and which was shortly to return there.
We resumed our march the following day at a very early hour, and as we
passed the cavalry camp two half-dressed boys came bounding out to the
road-side to once more repeat their affectionate good-byes and renew
their promises to meet in the future.
The march continued for a week longer, through a region over which the
Pullman car now rushes with the modern tourist, but through which we
moved at the gait of infantry. The boy corporals and Brenda Arnold
climbed eminences, looked through clefts in precipices into the
sublime depths of the great cañon, stood on the edge of craters of
extinct volcanoes, penetrated the mysterious caverns of the
cliff-dwellers, fished for trout in a mountain lake, caught axolotl in
a tank at the foot of San Francisco Mountain, shot turkeys, grouse,
and antelope, and enjoyed the march as only healthy youngsters can.
Brenda became a pupil of the boys in loading and firing their
revolvers, carbines, and fowling-pieces, and made many a bull's-eye
when firing at a mark, but invariably failed to hit anything living.
Henry said she was too tender-hearted to aim well at animals. That she
was no coward an incident to be told in a future chapter will prove.
When our train and its escort reached Fort Whipple, or, rather, the
site of that work--for we built it after our arrival--the Arnolds
caught up their cattle from our herd, and after a two weeks' stay in
Prescott removed to a section of land which they took up in Skull
Valley, ten miles to the west by the mountain-trail, and twenty-five
miles by the only practicable wagon-road. This place was selected for
a residence because its distance from Prescott and its situation at
the junction of the bridle-path and wagon-road made it an excellent
location for a way-side inn.
At a dress-parade held the evening before the family's departure for
their new home, Brenda sat on her pony, Gypsy, near Captain Bayard,
and heard an order read advancing her young friends from the grade of
corporal to that of sergeant, "for soldierly attention to duty on the
march, gallant conduct in the affair at Laguna, and meritorious
behavior in effecting the rescue of captive boys from the Navajos at
Carizo Creek; subject to the approval of Colonel Burton."
XI
BOTH PONIES ARE STOLEN
"Here, Frank, come and help push this gate, I can't start it alone."
"Don't be in such a hurry, Henry. Wait just a moment. I think I hear a
horse coming down the Prescott road. I want to see if it is the
express from La Paz."
The younger boy ceased his efforts to close the gates, and advancing a
few steps before the entrance of the fort, looked up the valley to
where the road from Prescott appeared from behind a spur of the
foot-hills. The two boys had mounted their sergeant's chevrons and
adopted white stripes down the legs of their trousers. As they stood
side by side Vic approached and placed herself between them, nestling
her delicate muzzle against the younger boy's hip and responding to
his caresses with waves of her plumy tail.
"Do you think we shall hear from father, Frank?"
"We ought to; you know he said in his last letter he was getting
settled at the Presidio, and would soon send for us."
"Takes twelve days to bring a letter from San Francisco. I suppose
it'll take us longer to go there; seems to me he might get ready for
us while we are on the road," said Henry, lugubriously. "I'm getting
mighty tired of opening and shutting these gates."
"You forget father has to visit all the posts where companies of his
regiment are stationed. That will probably take him all of a month
longer."
"And we must go on opening and closing gates and running errands in
Arizona? But come; let's get a swing on 'em and watch for the
expressman afterwards. We haven't much time before retreat."
The gates closed a fort which we had built since our arrival in
Arizona. Peeled pine logs, ten feet long, had been set up vertically
in the ground, two feet of them below the surface and eight above,
enclosing an area of a thousand square feet, in which were
store-rooms, offices, and quarters for two companies of soldiers and
their officers. At corners diagonally opposite each other were two
large block-house bastions, commanding the flanks of the fort. The
logs of the walls were faced on two sides and set close together, and
were slotted every four feet for rifles. At one of the corners which
had no bastions were double gates, also made of logs, bound by cross
and diagonal bars, dovetailed and pinned firmly to them. Each hung on
huge, triple hinges of iron.
The two boys returned to the gates, and, setting their backs against
one of them and digging their heels in the earth, pushed and swung it
ponderously and slowly, until its outer edge caught on a shelving log
set in the middle of the entrance to support it and its fellow. Then,
as the field-music began to play and the men to assemble in line for
retreat roll-call, they swung the second gate in the same way, and
braced the two with heavy timbers. The boys then reported the gates
closed to the adjutant.
As the companies broke ranks and dispersed the boy sergeants went to
the fifth log, to the left of the gates, and swung it back on its
hinges. This was one of two secret posterns. On the inside of the
wall, when closed, its location was easily noticeable on account of
its hinges, latches, and braces; on the outside it looked like any
other log in the wall. Their work being completed, the boys asked
permission of the adjutant to stand outside the wall and watch for the
mail.
"All right, sergeants," said the adjutant; "there is no further duty
for you to perform to-day."
Frank and Henry ran through the postern, and arrived on the crest of
the bluff overlooking the Prescott road just as a horseman turned up
the height. The news that the La Paz courier had arrived spread
rapidly through the quarters, and every man not on duty appeared
outside the walls.
Joining the boy sergeants, I said, "Boys, if you want to drop the job
of opening and closing the gates, it can hereafter be done by the
guard."
"Thank you, sir. We took the job, and we'll stick to it," replied
Sergeant Frank.
"I wonder if Samson could lift those gates as easily as he did the
gates of Gaza?" questioned Henry, seating himself on a log which had
been rejected in the building and taking Vic's head in his lap and
fondling her silken ears.
"We can't remain here much longer," said Frank; "I think this express
will bring an order for us to go to San Francisco."
"Very likely. No doubt life here is not very enjoyable for boys."
"I should say not," said Henry, "for we can't look outside the fort
unless a dozen soldiers are along for fear the Apaches 'll get us."
"But you can go to Prescott."
"Prescott!" in a tone of great contempt; "twenty-seven log cabins and
five stores, and not a boy in the place--only a dozen Pike County,
Missouri, girls."
"And we can't go there with any comfort since Texas Dick and Jumping
Jack stole Sancho and Chiquita," added Frank.
Further conversation on this subject was temporarily interrupted by
the arrival of the expressman. A roan bronco galloped up the slope,
bearing a youthful rider wearing a light buck-skin suit and a soft
felt hat with a narrow brim. He was armed with a breech-loading
carbine and two revolvers, and carried, attached to his saddle, a roll
of blankets, a haversack, and a mail-pouch.
Dismounting, he detached the pouch, at the same time answering
questions and giving us items of news later than any contained in his
despatches.
After handing his pouch to the quartermaster-sergeant, his eyes fell
upon the boy sergeants.
"I saw Texas Dick and Juan Brincos at Cisternas Negras," he said,
addressing them.
"My! Did you, Mr. Hudson?" exclaimed Henry, springing to his feet and
approaching the courier. "Did they have our ponies?"
"You know I never saw your ponies; but Dick was mounted on a black,
with a white star in his forehead, and Juan on a cream-color, with a
brown mane and tail."
"Sancho!" said Frank.
"Chiquita!" said Henry.
"Do you know where they were bound?" asked Captain Bayard.
"I did not speak to them, nor did they see me; I thought it would be
better to keep out of the way of such desperate characters in a
lonely place. I learned from a friend of theirs at Date Creek that
they intend to open a monte bank at La Paz."
"Then they are likely to remain there for some time."
"Can't something be done to get the ponies back, sir?" asked Frank.
"Perhaps so. I will consider the matter."
The mail was taken to my office and soon distributed through the
command. Among my letters was one from Colonel Burton, the father of
the boy sergeants. He said he had been expecting to send for his sons
by this mail, but additional detached service had been required of him
which might delay their departure from Whipple for another month, if
not longer. He informed me that a detail I had received to duty as
professor of military science and tactics in a boys' military school
had been withheld by the department commander until my services could
be spared at Fort Whipple, and that he thought the next mail, or the
one following it, would bring an order relieving me and ordering me
East. This would enable me to leave for the coast about the first week
in November.