The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

CHAPTER VIII

NEW ENEMIES

The two were in splendid spirits. They had escapedgreat dangers, and they were on horseback oncemore. It is true, they were somewhat short onarmament, but Breakstone took Phil's pistol, while thelatter kept the rifle, and they were confident that theycould find game enough on the plains until they overtookthe wagon train. The horses themselves seemed glad ofthe companionship of their old masters, and wentforward readily and at an easy pace through the woods.They soon found the path by which they had come, andfollowed it until they crossed the river and reached thesite of the camp. But the trail toward the plain laybefore them broad and easy.

"They can't have gone long," said Breakstone."They may have thought that we were merely loiteringbehind for some purpose of our own and would soonovertake them. A whole train isn't going to linger about fortwo fellows well mounted and well armed who aresupposed to know how to take care of themselves. But, SirPhilip of the Youthful Countenance, I don't think thatMiddleton and Arenberg would go ahead without us."

"Neither do I," said Phil with emphasis. "I as goodas know that they're looking for us in these woods, andwe've got to stay behind and find them, taking the riskof Comanches."

"Wherein I do heartily agree with you, and I'm goingto take a chance right now. It is likely that the two, after fruitless searches for us, would return here atintervals, and, in a region like this, the sound of a shot willtravel far. Fire the rifle, Phil, and it may bring them.It's often used as a signal. If it brings the Comanchesinstead, we're on our horses, and they're strong andswift."

Phil fired a shot, but there was no response. Hewaited half an hour and fired a second time, with thesame result. After another half hour, the third shot wasfired, and, four or five minutes later, Breakstoneannounced that he heard the tread of hoofs. It was a faint, distant sound, but Phil, too, heard it, and he wasconfident that it was made by hoofs. The two looked at eachother, and each read the question in the other's eye.Who were coming in reply to the call of that third rifleshot, red men or white?

"We'll just draw back a little behind this clump ofbushes," said Breakstone. "We can see a long waythrough their tops, and not be seen until the riders comevery close. Then, if the visitors to this Forest of Ardenof ours, Sir Philip, are not those whom we wish to see,it's up and away with us."

They waited in strained eagerness. The sounds grewlouder. It was certain, moreover, that the riders werecoming straight toward the point at which the rifle hadbeen fired.

"Judging from the hoof beats, how many would yousay they are?" asked Phil.

"Not many. Maybe three or four, certainly not more.But I'm hoping that it's two, neither more nor less."

On came the horsemen, the hoofbeats steadily growinglouder. Phil rose in his stirrups and gained a furtherview. He saw the top of a soft hat and then the top ofanother. In a half minute the faces beneath came intoview. He knew them both, and he uttered a cry of joy.

"Middleton and Arenberg!" he exclaimed. "Herethey come!"

"Our luck still holds good," said Bill Breakstone.He and Phil galloped from behind the bushes andshouted as warm a welcome as men ever had. Theyreceived one equally warm in return, as Middleton and theGerman urged their horses forward. Then there was amighty shaking of hands and mutual congratulations.

"The train left yesterday morning," said Middleton,"but we couldn't give you up. We scouted all the wayacross the forest and saw the Comanches on the otherside. There was nothing to indicate anything unusualamong them, such as a sacrifice of prisoners, and wehoped that if you had been taken by them you hadescaped, and we came back here to see, knowing that if youwere able you would return to this place. We were rightin one part of our guess, because here you are."

"And mighty glad we are to be here," said BillBreakstone, "and I want to say to you that I, BillBreakstone, who may not be of so much importance to theworld, but who is of vast importance to himself, wouldnot be here at all, or anywhere else, for that matter, if itwere not for this valiant and skillful youth, Sir PhilipBedford, Knight of the Texas plains."

"Stop, Bill," exclaimed Phil blushing. "Don'ttalk that way."

"Talk that way! Of course I will! And I'll pile itup, too! And after I pile it up and keep on piling it up,it won't be the whole truth. Cap, and you, Hans, oldfellow, Phil and I were not taken together, because Philwas never taken at all. It was I alone who sat still, shutmy eyes, and closed my ears while I let three of theugliest Comanche warriors that were ever born walk up, layviolent hands on me, harness me up in all sorts of thongsand withes, and carry me off to their village, where theywould have had some red sport with me if Phil hadn'tcome, when they were all mad with a great dance, andtaken me away."

Then he told the story in detail, and Phil, shy andblushing, was compelled to receive their compliments, which were many and sincere. But he insisted that hemerely succeeded through good luck, which BillBreakstone warmly denied.

"Well, between the two of you, you have certainlygot out of it well," said Middleton, "and, as we arereunited, we must plan for the next step. We can easilyovertake the train by to-morrow, but I'm of the opinionthat we'll have to be very careful, and that we must dosome scouting, also. Arenberg and I have discoveredthat the Comanche warriors are on the move again. Theirwhole force of warriors seemed to be getting ready to leavethe village, and they may be planning, after all, a secondattack upon the train, a night surprise, or something ofthat kind. We, too, will have to be careful lest we runinto them."

"Then it maybe for the good of the train that wewere left back here," said Phil, "because we will returnwith a warning."

"It may be the hand of Providence," said Arenberg,"since the Comanches did no harm where much wasintended."

As both Middleton and Arenberg were firmly convincedthat the plain would be thick with Comanche scouts, making their passage by daylight impossible, or at leastextremely hazardous, they decided to remain in the woodsuntil nightfall. They rode a couple of miles from thecamp, tethered their horses in thick bushes, and, sittingnear them, waited placidly. Phil Breakstone, andArenberg talked in low tones, but Middleton sat silent. Philnoticed presently that "The Cap" was preoccupied. Littlelines of thought ran down from his eyes to the cornersof his nose.

Phil began to wonder again about the nature ofMiddleton's mission. Every one of the four was engagedupon some great quest, and none of them knew the secretof any of the others. Nor, in the rush of events, hadthey been left much time to think about such matters.

Now Phil again studied Middleton more closely.There was something in the unaccustomed lines of hisface and his thoughtful eye indicating a belief that forhim, at least, the object of the quest might be drawingnigh. At least, it seemed so to the boy. He studied, too, Middleton's clean cut face, and the sharp line of hisstrong chin. Phil had noticed before that this man wasuncommonly neat in his personal appearance. It was aneatness altogether beyond what one usually saw on theplains. His clothing was always clean and in order, hecarried a razor, and he shaved every day. Nor did heever walk with a slovenly, lounging gait.

Phil decided that something very uncommon musthave sent him with the Santa Fé train, but he would notask; he had far too much delicacy to pry into the secretof another, who did not pry into his own.

Middleton and Arenberg had ample food in theirsaddlebags and Phil and Breakstone combined with it theirstock of deer meat. Nothing disturbed them in thethicket, and at nightfall they mounted and rode out intothe plain.

"I know something about this country before us,"said Breakstone. "It runs on in rolling swells for amarch of many days, without any streams except shallowcreeks, and without any timber except the fringes ofcottonwoods along these creeks."

"And I know which way to go in order to overtakethe train," said Middleton. "Woodfall said that theywould head straight west, and we are certainly goodenough plainsmen to keep our noses pointed that way."

"We are, we surely are," said Bill Breakstone, "butwe must keep a good watch for those Comanche scouts.They hide behind the swells on their ponies, and theyblend so well with the dusky earth that you'd nevernotice 'em until they had passed the signal on to othersthat you were coming and that it was a good time toform an ambush."

There was a fair sky, with a moon and some clearstars, and they could see several hundred yards, butbeyond that the whole horizon fused into a dusky wall.They rode at a long, swinging pace, and the hoofs of theirhorses made little noise on the new spring turf. Thewind of the plains, which seldom ceases, blew gently intheir faces and brought with it a soft crooning sound.Its note was very pleasant in the ears of Philip Bedford.In the saddle and with his best friends again, he felt thathe could defy anything. He felt, too, and perhaps thefeeling was due to his physical well-being and recoveredsafety, that he, also, was coming nearer to the object ofhis quest. Involuntarily he put his left hand on hiscoat, where the paper which he had read so often laysecurely in a little inside pocket. He knew every word ofit by heart, but when the time came, and he was alone,he would take it out and read it again. It was this paperthat was always calling to him.

They rode on, crossing swell after swell, and, after thefirst hour, the four did not talk. It was likely that everyone was thinking of his own secret.

They came about midnight to a prairie creek, a streamof water two or three yards wide and a few inches deep, flowing in a bed of sand perhaps fifteen yards across. Athin fringe of low cottonwoods and some willows grew oneither shore. They approached warily, knowing that sucha place offered a good ambush, and realizing that fourwould not have much chance against a large Comanchewar band.

"But I don't think there is much danger," said BillBreakstone. "If the Comanches are up to mischief again, they're not looking for stray parties; their mind is on thetrain, and, by the way, the train has passed along here.Look down, and in this moonlight you can see plainlyenough the tracks of a hundred wheels."

"The horses are confident," said Middleton, "and Ithink we can be so, too."

The horses were advancing without hesitation, and itsoon became evident that nothing was concealed amongthe scanty lines of trees and bushes.

"Look out for quicksands," said Arenberg. "It issnot pleasant to be swallowed up in one of them and feelthat you have died such a useless death."

"There is no danger," said Phil, whose quick eye wasfollowing the trail of the wagons. "Here is where thetrain crossed, and if the wagons didn't sink we won't."

The water being cold and entirely free from alkali, thehorses drank eagerly, and their riders, also, took thechance to refill their canteens, which they always carriedstrapped to their saddle bows. They also rested awhile, but, when they remounted and rode on, Middleton noticeda light to the northward. On the plains then, no manwould pass a light without giving it particular attention, and the four sat on their horses for some minutesstudying it closely. They thought at first that it might be asignal light of the Comanches, but, as it did not waver, they concluded that it must be a camp fire.

"Now I'm thinking," said Bill Breakstone, "that weoughtn't to leave a camp fire burning away here on theplains, and we not knowing anything about it. It won'ttake us long to ride up and inspect it."

"That is a truth," said Middleton. "It is not adifficult matter for four horsemen to overtake a wagon train, but we'll first see what that fire means."

"It iss our duty to do so," said the phlegmatic German.

They rode straight toward the light, and their beliefthat it was a camp fire was soon confirmed. They sawthe red blaze rising and quivering, and then dusky figurespassing and repassing before it.

"We're yet too far away to tell exactly what thosefigures are," said Bill Breakstone, "but I don't see any signof long hair or war bonnets, and so I take it that they arenot Comanches, nor any other kind of Indians, for thatmatter. No warriors would build so careless a fire orwander so carelessly about it.

"They are white men," said Middleton with conviction,as he increased his horse's pace. "Ah, I see now!Mexicans! Look at the shadows of their great conicalhats as they pass before the fire."

"Now I wonder what they're doing here on Texassoil," said Bill Breakstone.

Middleton did not answer, but Phil noticed that thelook in his eyes was singularly tense and eager. As theydrew near the fire, which was a large one, and thehoof-beats of their horses were heard, two men in Mexican.dress, tall conical broad-brimmed hats, embroidered coatsand trousers and riding boots, bearing great spurs, cameforward to meet them. Phil saw another figure, whichhad been lying on a blanket by the fire, rise and stand atattention. He instantly perceived, even then, somethingfamiliar in the figure.

The four rode boldly forward, and Middleton calledout:

"We are friends!"

The two Mexicans who were in advance, rifle in hand, stood irresolutely, and glanced at the man behind them, who had just risen from his blanket.

"You are welcome," said this man in good Englishbut with a strong Mexican accent. "We are glad foranybody to share with us our camp fire in this wilderness.Dismount, Señores."

Then Phil knew him well. It was Pedro de Armijo, the young Mexican whom he had seen with the Mexicanenvoy, Zucorra, in New Orleans, one whom he hadinstinctively disliked, one whom he was exceedinglyastonished to see at such a time and place. Middleton alsorecognized him, because he raised his cap and saidpolitely:

"This is a pleasant meeting. You are Captain Pedrode Armijo, who came to our capital with His ExcellencyDon Augustin Xavier Hernando Zucorra on a mission, intended to be of benefit to both our countries. Myname is Middleton, George Middleton, and these are myfriends, Mr. Breakstone, Mr. Arenberg, and Mr. Bedford."

De Armijo gave every one in turn a quick scrutinizinglook, and, with flowing compliment, bade them welcometo his fireside. It seemed that he did not rememberMiddleton, but that he took for granted their formermeeting in Washington. Phil liked him none the morebecause of the polite words he used. He was not one tohold prejudice because of race, but this Mexican had amanner supercilious and conceited that inspired resentment.

"It seems strange, Señor Middleton," said de Armijo,"that we should meet again in such a place on these vastplains, so far from a house or any other human beings, plains that were once Mexican, but which you now callyours."

De Armijo glided over the last words smoothly, butthe blood leaped in Phil's temples. Middleton apparentlytook no notice, but said that he and his comrades wereriding across the plains mainly on an exploringexpedition. As there was some danger from Comanches, theywere traveling partly by night, and, having seen the campfire, they had come to investigate it, after the custom ofthe wilderness.

"And, now that you have found us," said de Armijowith elaborate courtesy, "I have reason to believe thatyou would run into Comanche horsemen a little fartheron. They would not harm us Mexicans, with whom theyare at peace, but for you Americans they would havelittle mercy. Stay with us for the remainder of thenight."

He smiled, showing his white teeth, and Middletonsmiled back as he replied:

"Your courtesy is appreciated, Captain de Armijo.We shall stay. It is pleasant, too, to welcome a gallantMexican officer like yourself to American soil."

The eyes of de Armijo snapped in the firelight, andthe white teeth were bared again. Phil knew that heresented the expression "American soil." Mexico stillmaintained a claim to Texas-which it could not makegood-and he felt equally confident that Middleton hadused it purposely. It seemed to him that some sort ofduel was in progress between the two, and he watched itwith overwhelming curiosity. But de Armijo quicklyreturned to his polite manner.

"You speak the truth," he said. "It is I who amyour guest, not you who are mine. It was Mexican soilonce, and before that Spanish-three centuries under ourrace-but now gone, I suppose, forever."

Middleton did not reply, but approached the fire andwarmed his hands over the blaze. The night was coldand the flames looked cheerful. The others tethered theirhorses, and all except the two who had met the Americanstook their places by the fire. The Mexicans were sixin number. Only de Armijo seemed to be a man of anydistinction. The others, although stalwart and wellarmed, were evidently of the peon class. Phil wonderedwhat this little party was doing here, and the convictiongrew upon him that the meeting had something to dowith Middleton's mission.

"I am sorry," said de Armijo, "that we do not evenhave a tent to offer you, but doubtless you are accustomedto sleeping under the open sky, and the air of theseplains is dry and healthy."

"A blanket and a few coals to warm one's feet aresufficient," said Middleton. "We will avail ourselves ofyour courtesy and not keep you awake any longer."

Both Breakstone and Arenberg glanced at Middleton, but they said nothing, wrapping themselves in theirblankets, and lying down, with their feet to the fire.Phil did the same, but he thought it a strange proceeding, this apparently unguarded camping with Mexicans, who at the best were not friends, with the possibility ofComanches who were, at all times, the bitterest and mostdangerous of enemies. Yet Middleton must have somegood reason, he was not a man to do anything rash orfoolish, and Phil awaited the issue with confidence.

Phil could not sleep. The meeting had stirred himtoo much, and his nerves would not relax. He laybefore the fire, his feet within a yard of the coals, and hishead in the crook of his arm. Now and then he heard ahorse move or stamp his hoofs, but all the men weresilent. De Armijo, lying on a blanket and with a fineblue cavalry cloak spread over him, seemed to be asleep, but as he was on the other side of the fire Phil could notsee his eyes. Middleton was nearer, and he saw his chestrising and falling with the regularity of one who sleeps.

It all seemed very peaceful, very restful. Perhaps deArmijo's hospitality was real, and he had wronged himwith his suspicions. But reason with himself as hewould, Phil could not overcome his dislike and distrust.Something was wrong, and something was going tohappen, yet much time passed and nothing happened. DeArmijo's eyes were still shaded by his cloak, but his longfigure lay motionless. Only a few live coals remainedfrom the fire, and beyond a radius of twenty feet lay theencircling rim of the darkness. At the line where lightand dark met, crouched the two peons with their riflesacross their knees. It was Phil's opinion that they, too, slept in this sitting posture. Surely de Armijo and hismen had great confidence in their security, and must beon the best of terms with the Comanches! If so, it mightincrease the safety of the little American party, also, butthe boy yet wondered why Middleton had stopped whenthey were all so eager to reach the wagon train and warnit of the new danger.

Phil stirred once or twice, but only to ease his position, and he did it without noise. His eyes were shadedby the brim of his soft hat, but he watched the circleabout the fire, and most of all he watched de Armijo.An interminable period of time passed, every secondgrowing to ten times its proper length. Phil was aswakeful as ever, but so much watching made the figuresabout the fire dim and uncertain. They seemed to shifttheir places, but the boy was still resolved to keep awake, although everybody else slept through the night. Hispremonition was yet with him, his heart expanded, andhis pulse beat faster.

The remaining coals died one by one. The circle oflight, already small, contracted still more, became apoint, and then vanished. Everything now lay in thedark, and the figures were merely blacker shapes againstthe blackness. Then, after that long waiting, with everysecond and minute drawn out tenfold, Phil's premonitioncame true. Something happened.

De Armijo moved. He moved ever so slightly, butPhil saw him, and, lying perfectly still himself, hewatched him with an absorbed attention, and a heart thathad increased its beating still further. De Armijo'sbody itself had not moved, it was merely one hand thathad come slowly from under the covering of the cloak, and that now lay white against the blue cloth. A manmight move his hand thus in sleep, but it seemed to Philthat the action was guided by a conscious mind. Intent,he watched, and presently his reward came. The otherhand also slid from beneath the cloak, and, like itsfellow, lay white against the blue cloth. Now both handswere still, but Phil yet waited, confident that morewould come. It was all very quiet and slow, like thecraft and cunning of the Indian, but Phil was willing tomatch it with a patience and craft of his own.

At last the whole figure of de Armijo stirred. Philsaw the blue cloak tremble slightly. Then the man raisedhis head ever so little and looked about the dark circle.Slowly he let the head fall back, and the figure becamestill again. But the boy was not deceived. Alreadyevery suspicion had been verified in his mind, and hispremonition was proved absolutely true.

Pedro de Armijo raised himself again, but a littlehigher this time, and he did not let his head and bodydrop back. He looked about the circle with a gaze thatPhil knew must be sharp and scrutinizing, although itwas too dark for him to see the expression of his eyes.The Mexican seemed satisfied with his second examination, and then, dropping softly on his hands and knees,he crept toward Middleton. It occurred to Philafterward that this approach toward Middleton did notsurprise him. In reality, it was just what he had expectedde Armijo to do.

The boy was uncertain about his own course, and, likeone under a spell, he waited. The dusky figure of deArmijo creeping toward Middleton had a sinuous motionlike that of a great snake, and Phil's hand slipped downto the hammer of his rifle, but he would not fire. Henoticed that de Armijo had drawn no weapon, and he didnot believe that murder was his intention.

Middleton did not move. He lay easily upon hisright side, and Phil judged that he was in a sound sleep.De Armijo, absorbed in his task, did not look back.Hence he did not see the boy who rose slowly to a sittingposture, a ready rifle in his hands.

Phil saw de Armijo reach Middleton's side and pausethere a moment or two. He still drew no weapon, andthis was further proof that murder was not in theMexican's mind, but Phil believed that whatever lay betweenthese two was now at the edge of the crisis. He saw deArmijo raise his hand and put it to Middleton's breastwith the evident intention of opening his coat. So hewas a thief! But the fingers stopped there as Phil leveledhis rifle and called sharply:

"Hands up, de Armijo, or I shoot!"

The startled Mexican would have thrown up hishands, but he did not have time. They were seized inthe powerful grasp of Middleton, and he was pulleddownward upon his face.

"Ah, would you, de Armijo!" cried Middleton inexultant tones. "We have caught you! Good boy, Phil, you were watching, too!"

"All the others were up in an instant, but Breakstoneand Arenberg were too quick for the Mexicans. They coveredthem with their rifle muzzles before their antagonistscould raise their weapons.

"Throw down every gun and pistol!" said Breakstonesternly. "There, by the log, and we'll see what's goingforward!"

Sullenly the Mexicans complied, and then stood ina little huddled group, looking at their fallen leader, whom Middleton still held upon the ground, but whowas pouring out muffled oaths from a face that was inthe dirt.

"Take his pistols, Phil," said Middleton, and the boypromptly removed them. Then Middleton released him, and de Armijo sat up, his face black as night, his heartraging with anger, hate, and humiliation.

"How dare you attack me in my own camp! Youwhom we received as guests!" he cried.