The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista
They did not light any fire, but ate their supper cold, and quickly betook themselves to The Dip, as they calledthis shelter. There, wrapped in their blankets, they laydown on the soft beds of leaves, and deemed themselvesfortunate. Phil could just see between two greattree-trunks a narrow strip of The Silver Cup, which flashingin the moonlight with a luminous glow, looked like awonderful gem. The water rippled and moved softly.Beyond was the fringe of trees, and beyond that the vastblue sky with a host of friendly stars. Then Phil fellinto the sleep of the just, and so did all his comrades.The only one of them who awoke in the night was HansArenberg. He looked at his friends, saw they weresleeping so soundly that they did not move, and he arose verygently. Then he stepped out of The Dip and walkeddown to the edge of The Silver Cup. There he stoodlooking at the waters which still shifted and moved likemolten metal under the wind.
There was a spell upon Hans Arenberg that night.The soul of the old Teuton was alive within him, of theTeuton who lived in the great forests of Germany far backof the Christian era. It was his inheritance, like that ofthe Americans who, also, grew up in the shadow of thevast wilderness. The forest and lake were alive to himwith the spirits of his primitive ancestors, but they weregood spirits. They whispered in chorus that he, too, would succeed, and he began to whistle softly a quaintmelody, some old German folk song that he had whistledto his boy. His mood grew upon him. All things weremystic. The seen were the unseen, and the things aroundhim had no place. Even the lake vanished as he softlywhistled the little melody, and it seemed to him afterawhile that an answer to it came out of the forest, the samemelody whistled more softly yet, and from childish lips.Arenberg knew that he was dreaming awake, but from thatmoment he never doubted.
He came from the spell, slipped back into The Dip, and was the first next morning to awake. But he builtthe fire and did all the cooking, and he was uncommonlycheerful, whistling at times a peculiar but beautifulmelody that none of them had ever heard before.
"Arenberg must have had a fine dream last night,"said John Bedford to Phil.
"Looks so," replied Phil, "but I'm not going to askhim about it."
Arenberg and John remained and watched at the lakethat day, devoting themselves at the same time, to theimprovement of their camp, by means of a roof of barkand poles at the upper edge of The Dip, which wouldprotect them from the infrequent rains. Phil and BillBreakstone mounted the best of the horses and madea great scout northward. They found that the thick woodsextended four or five miles. Beyond that the timberbecame scattering, and they also saw patches of opencountry with the succulent buffalo grass. Farther on laythe great mountains, clearly visible now.
"That's our water supply," said Bill, pointing to theblue range. "As we guessed, The Silver Cup is certainlyfed from them, and I think that we've seen enough forthe present. We've established the fact that we've gotabout the best base to be found in this country, and thesewoods will surely contain game."
Their luck continued high, for within fifteen minutesthey flushed a black-tailed deer, which Phil, from hishorse's back, brought down with a fine running shot.It was a fat doe, and, skinning and cleaning it there, they put it upon one of the horses and carried it backto camp. They did not arrive until nearly sundown, and their spoils made them doubly welcome to theircomrades.
"You have done good work," said Hans Arenberg,"and this deer is very welcome. There are more whereit came from, and to-morrow I think, also, that I willshoot some of the foolish ducks that are swimmingaround on the lake."
Arenberg was as good as his word; the next day theyadded a half dozen fine ducks to their larder. On thefollowing day Arenberg and John rode northward, makingthe great scout. They had resolved to do this day byday, two to ride for enemies, and two to watch and workat the camp until something happened. Thus nearly twoweeks passed and The Silver Cup remained untouched byany human beings save themselves. It was so peacefulthat apparently it would remain forever so. Nor did theyfind anything in the forest except game, although theythreshed up the country at least thirty miles to the north.Still they clung to their camp, knowing that they musthave patience.
The hot days passed fast, and the coolness of autumncame upon them. One night it rained heavily, but thethatched roof did its duty, and they did not surfer. Thewaters of the lake grew colder, but they rarely missedtheir daily swim. Breakstone thought it likely that itwas already snowing on the distant mountains.
They continued to beat up the country in circles thatwidened steadily, still without any sign of Comanches orany other Indian tribe, but Arenberg was resolute in hisdesire to stay, and the others thought it right to defer tohim in the matter that concerned him most. TheGerman held to the theory that sooner or later Comancheswould pass that way, since water, wood, and game, thethree requisites of savage life, were found there.
Hence they made ready for winter. They had twoaxes in their baggage, and they built a strong shack inThe Dip, one quite sufficient to protect them from thewinter storms which were likely to occur here, as theywere at a great elevation above the sea. They made rudefish traps, with which they caught excellent fish in thelake, and they could increase the supply indefinitely.The black-tailed deer were numerous in the forest. Theyalso found wild turkeys, and they shot two buffaloes onthe plains below. The horses grazed in a sheltered littlevalley, and they judged that grass could be found thereall through the winter.
There would be no trouble about living. Beyond adoubt, they could find ample supplies of food, and solong a time passed without the appearance of an enemythat they began to feel quite safe at their home in TheDip and in the region about it. As they sat there lateone afternoon and watched the twilight come over TheSilver Cup, Hans Arenberg spoke the thoughts that hadbeen heavy in his mind that day.
"See what a misty twilight it iss," he said. "It isstoo cold for rain, and so I think it means snow. TheComanches will come with the snow. While the weatherwas warm, and they could sleep on the open plain, theyrode there, hunting the buffalo. Now the western bandswill seek shelter and they will come here."
He walked from the hut and stood looking down atthe lake, the surface of which had turned from silver togray. The three followed him with a gaze which was ofblended curiosity and sympathy.
"I more than half believe him," said Breakstone in awhisper to the others.
"It seems to me that sometimes he talks like aprophet," said John Bedford.
"He is a prophet sometimes," said Bill Breakstone,"or at least he's got second sight. Now he's looking atthat lake, but he doesn't see it at all. He sees theComanches, riding, riding, always riding toward thisplace, and maybe they have with them some one forwhom he is looking. Maybe, and maybe not, but we'llsee, don't you forget that, Phil, you and John, andsomehow I'm thinking that he sees true."
It rapidly grew colder, and they were glad enough, when they came back from hunting and scouting, to seekthe shelter of the thatched hut in The Dip. There, whilethe coals glowed on the stone hearth that they had made, and the smoke passed out through the vent in the wall, they speculated much on what was passing far to thesouthward of them. The great battle at the mouth of thePass of Angostura was still so vivid in the minds of Phil,Breakstone, and Arenberg that they did not have to shuttheir eyes to see it again, and John often dreamed thathe was still in the Castle of Montevideo, sitting by thatdeep loophole, looking out upon his mountain landscape.
"I guess they're closing in on the City of Mexico,"said Bill Breakstone. "It's in a rough and mountainouscountry, easy to defend, but after the battle of BuenaVista I don't believe anything in Mexico can defeat oursoldiers, no matter what the odds."
"And Middleton is with them," said Phil. "I'd liketo see the Captain again. He was a fine man."
"Maybe we will," said Breakstone. "The West is amighty big place, but there are not many white men init, and when you shuffle them around some you are likelyto meet them more than once."
The next morning The Silver Cup had a cover, a beautifulclear cover of ice an eighth of an inch thick. Thefollowing morning the cover was a little thicker, and itthickened perceptibly every succeeding morning, untilit would bear the weight of Phil or John. The trees wereheavy with frost, and the wind sometimes blew so sharplyfrom the mountain that they made rude ear-muffs of deerskinand helped out their clothing as skillfully as possiblewith skins and furs.
Then the snow came. Looking northward, they saw awhitish mist over the forest. The mist gradually turnedto dark blue clouds hanging very low. The snow fell, atfirst, in slow, solemn flakes, and then swiftly. Theyfilled the air, all the forest was hidden, and nothingmarked the presence of The Silver Cup but the levelexpanse of the snow. It fell to the depth of six or seveninches, then the skies cleared away, became crystal blue, and the cold increased, promising no more snow for thepresent, but a long continuance of that which lay on theground. They visited the horses the next morning andfound them well protected in their valley. Large spacesthere were but thinly covered with the snow, and thehorses could easily get at the grass. Assured on thispoint, John and Breakstone returned to The Dip, whilePhil and Arenberg, mounting the strongest two horses, rode northward.
CHAPTER XXI
THE NOTE OF A MELODY
Phil and Arenberg were undertaking this journeybecause they wished to make one of their usualthorough scouts. It merely happened to be theirday, as John and Breakstone had gone on the day preceding.They were well wrapped up, with their ear-muffs onand with big moccasins that they had made to go overtheir shoes. The snow was very light and dry, andoffered little obstacle to the horses, which were fat andstrong with good feeding.
"We certainly leave a fine trail, Hans," said Phil, looking back at the impressions made by their horse'shoofs.
"It iss so," said Arenberg, "but since we hunt peopleit iss not our object to hide ourselves. Do you noticehow beautiful iss the forest, Herr Philip? All the treesare white with the snow. It iss a great tracery, silversometimes and gold sometimes as the sun falls, and itextends farther than we can see. It must often have beensuch as this in the great Teutonic forest where myancestors dwelled thousands of years ago. Here in thesewoods I have this feeling at times, as if the centurieswere rolled back, and last night I dreamed a strangedream."
"What was the dream?"
"I don't know. That was the strange part of it. Iawoke and I knew that I had dreamed a strange dreamwhich was not unpleasant, but, try as hard as I would,I could not remember anything about it. What do youthink that portends, Herr Philip?"
"I do not know. Perhaps when we want a thing somuch and think about it so much the imagination, whilewe are asleep and the will is dead, forms a picture of itthat remains in our possession when we awake. But it'sjust surmise. I don't know anything about it."
"Nor do I," said Arenberg, "but sometimes I believe.Now I suggest that we ride toward the northwest. Ibelieve that good hunting grounds are in that directionbeyond this forest, and perhaps the Comanches may havebeen on the plain there, and may now be seeking shelterin this wilderness."
"It's as good a theory as any," said Phil, "and we'lltry it."
They rode for several hours toward the northwest, passingfrom the region of heavy forest into that of the scrubtimber, and again into heavy forest as they approachedthe slopes of the higher mountains. They were now atleast twenty miles from The Silver Cup, and it was pastmidday. They had brought jerked venison with them, and they ate their noon meal on horseback. But Philwanted water, and he saw a clear white line leadingamong the trees, which he thought might indicate a brookflowing under the ice and snow. He dismounted, scrapedaway the snow and found that he was right. He brokethe ice, took a good drink, and then noticed a trail onthe far side of the brook. It was unmistakably that of asingle horse, and he called excitedly to Arenberg.
"Look, Hans," he said. "Doesn't this show that anIndian pony has passed here?"
Arenberg came at once, and when he looked down atthe trail his eyes sparkled with a kind of exultant joy.But he showed no excitement otherwise.
"It iss the trail of a single Indian pony," he said."We will follow it. It iss not likely that a lone warriorrides in this region. He goes to join others."
Phil looked closely at Arenberg. He was quite surethat his comrade considered this a sign, the first signthat had come in the long, long search. He knew howthe stout heart must be throbbing within the German'spowerful chest.
"Lead on, Hans," he said. "I think you're right."
The two followed the trail at a good walk. It lay beforethem in the snow as plain as a railroad track. Therewas but little undergrowth here, and they saw far amongthe stems of the trees. They were quite sure that dangerlay before them, since they might ride at any momentinto an ambush, but they kept on without hesitation, although they watched well with two pairs of unusuallykeen eyes. In this manner they rode about five miles, and then Arenberg's eyes began to scintillate again. Thepony's trail was merged into that of three or four morecoming from the north.
"It iss so! It iss so!" he said softly, althoughexcitement now showed in his tone. "The Comanches havecome! Presently more riders will enter the trail, andbeyond will lie their camp. Now, young Herr Philip, itiss for us to go with great care."
A mile farther the trail was merged with that of atleast twenty horsemen. Phil himself did not doubt thatthe new Indian camp lay before them. The forest wasnow heavy with undergrowth here and there, for which hewas thankful, since it afforded hiding for Arenberg andhimself, while the trail was so broad that they could notpossibly miss it. There was another fortunate circumstance.They had been longer on the trail than they hadrealized, and the twilight was now coming fast. Italready lay in deep shadows over the vast, lonelywilderness. Although he was very near, Phil saw Arenberg'sfigure enveloped in a sort of black mist, and the horse'sfeet made but little sound on the soft snow. At intervalsthe two stopped to listen, because there was no doubt nowin the mind of either that they were close to a largeIndian camp. A half hour of this, and they stopped longerthan usual. Both distinctly heard a low chant. Arenbergknew that it was the song of Indian women at work.
"Phil," he said, "we are close by. Let us leave ourhorses here and steal forward. We may lose the horsesor we may not, but we cannot scout on horseback closeup to the Indian camp."
Phil did not hesitate. They fastened the horses toswinging boughs in dense thickets, trusting them to thefortune that had been kind thus far, and then creptthrough the snow and among the frees toward the lowsound of the chant. At the edge of a thicket of scrubcedar they knelt down and looked through the snow-ladenbranches into an Indian village that lay in the valleybeyond.
It was a broad valley, with a creek now frozen overrunning through it, and the village, a large one, wasevidently not more than a day or two old, as many of thelodges were not yet finished. All these lodges were ofbuffalo skin on poles, and the squaws were still at workon some of them. Others were beating buffalo meat ordeer meat before the cooking fires, and yet others draggedfrom the snow the dead wood that lay about plentifully.Many warriors were visible here and there amid thebackground of flame, but they merely lounged, leaving thework to the squaws.
"It may be the band of Black Panther," said Phil.
"I think it iss," said Arenberg, "but I also think ithas been swollen by the addition of another band or two."
The two were lying so close under the dwarf pinesthat Phil's arm was pressed against Arenberg's side, andhe could feel the German trembling all over. Phil knewperfectly that it was not fear, but a powerful emotionthat could thus shake the strong soul of his friend.Evidently the Indians had no thought of a foreign presencein a region so far from any settlement. A feeling ofgood-humor seemed to pervade the village. It was obviousthat they had found game in abundance, and thus theIndian's greatest want was filled.
Some of the Indian women continued the low hummingchant that Phil and Arenberg had first heard, andothers chattered as they worked about the fires. ButArenberg's eyes were for neither men nor women. Hewas watching a group of children at the outskirts. Theywere mostly boys, ranging in years from eight to thirteen, and, despite the darkness and the distance, he followedthem with a gaze so intense, so full of longing, thatit was painful to Phil who saw it. But it was impossibleto distinguish. It was merely a group of Indian lads, half at play, half at work, and it would have been follyfor the two to go closer.
But only hope was in the soul of Arenberg. Themystic spell of the great woods was on him, and he did notbelieve that he had come so far merely to lose at last.Phil suddenly felt his great frame shake under a strongerquiver of emotion than before. About a third of theIndian boys, carrying tin pails or stone jars, moved upthe creek.
"Come," whispered Arenberg, in intense excitement."They're going after water, where it is not defiled byoffal from the village! We'll follow them on this side ofthe creek! See, the dwarf pines continue along the bankindefinitely!"
Arenberg led the way, treading softly in the snow.He was now the director, and Phil obeyed him in everything.Besides his own perception of the critical, Philcaught some of the intense excitement that surchargedevery pore of Arenberg's being. He felt sure thatsomething was going to happen. The thought was like fire inhis brain.
The boys moved on toward a point where the ice hadbeen broken already. The creek curved, and the villagebehind them passed out of sight, although its soundscould yet be heard plainly. Directly they came to thewater hole and filled the pails and jars. Arenberg'sexcitement was increasing. He was much closer to themnow, and again he studied every figure with a concentrationof vision that was extraordinary. Yet the night wasalready dark, the figures were indistinct, and, to Phil atleast, one figure, barring size, looked just like another.
The boys turned away, walked perhaps a dozen paces, and then Phil heard by his side a soft whistle, low, melodious, a bar of some quaint old song. It might have beenmistaken in a summer night for the song of a bird. Theboys stopped, but moved on again in a moment, thinkingperhaps it was only fancy. Another ten feet, and thatmelodious whistle came again, lower than ever, butcontinuing the quaint old song. The third boy from therear stopped and listened a little longer than the others.But the sound had been so faint, so clever an approach tothe sighing of the wind among the pines, that the otherboys seemed to take no notice of it. Arenberg wasmoving along in a parallel line with them, keeping behindthe pines. Phil followed close behind him, and once morehe put his hand on his arm. Now he felt, with increasingforce, that the man was shaken by some tremendousinternal excitement.
The file of Indian boys moved on, save the one whohad been third from the last. He was carrying a pail ofwater, and he lingered, looking cautiously in thedirection whence the low whistle had come. He was a small, strong figure, in Indian dress, a fur cap on his head. Heseemed to be struggling with some memory, some flashout of the past. Then Arenberg, rising above the breast-workof pines, his head showing clearly over the topmostfringe, whistled a third bar of the old German folk song,so low, so faint that to Phil himself it was scarcely morethan the sighing of the wind. The boy straightened upand the pail of water dropped from his hands upon thesoft snow. Then he pursed his lips and whistled softly, continuing the lines of the melody.
An extraordinary thrill, almost like the chill of thesupernatural, ran down Phil's back, but it was nothingto the emotion that shook the German. With a suddencry: "It iss he!" Arenberg leaped entirely over the pinebushes, ran across the frozen creek, and snatched up theboy in his arms. It was Phil then who retained hiscoolness, luckily for them both. He seized the fallen rifleand called:
"Come! Come, Hans, come with the boy, we mustride for our lives now!"
Arenberg came suddenly back to the real world andthe presence of great danger, just when he had found hisson. He lifted the boy in his arms, ran with him acrossthe creek, up the slope, and through the bushes. LittleBilly scarcely stirred, but remained with his arms claspedaround his father's neck. Already hostile sounds werecoming from the Indian camp. The Indian boys, at thesound of Arenberg's footsteps, had turned back, and hadseen what had happened.
"We must reach the horses," cried Phil, retaininghis full presence of mind. "If we can do that beforethey wing us we'll escape. Run ahead. I'll bring yourrifle."
Arenberg, despite the weight of his boy, rushedtoward the horses. Phil kept close behind, carrying thetwo rifles. From the village came a long, fierce cry, theComanche war whoop. Then it came back from thesnowy forest in faint, dying echoes, full of menace.Phil knew that in a few moments the alert warriors wouldbe on their ponies and in full pursuit.
"Faster, Hans! Faster!" he cried. "Never mindhow much noise we may make now or how broad a trailwe may leave! To the horses! To the horses!"
The little boy was perfectly silent, clinging to hisfather's neck, and Arenberg himself did not speak now.In a minute they reached the horses, untied them, andsprang upon their backs, Billy, as they always called himhereafter, sitting with a sure seat behind his father.Phil handed Arenberg his rifle:
"Take it," he said. "You may need it!"
Arenberg received the weapon mechanically. Before,he had been the leader. Now Phil took the position.He dashed away in the forest, turning toward the east, and the hoofs of Arenberg's horse thudded on the snow athis flank. They heard behind them the second shout ofthe Comanches, who had now crossed the creek on theirponies. Arenberg suddenly lifted his boy about andplaced him in front of him. Phil understood. If abullet came, it was now Arenberg instead of his boy whowould receive it.
But it was not in vain that their horses had restedand eaten the sweet, clean grass so long. Now they obeyedthe sudden call upon accumulated strength and energy, and, despite the double burden that Arenberg's horsebore, raced on at a speed that yet held the Indian poniesout of rifle shot.
"We must keep to the east, Hans," said Phil, "becauseif we brought them down on our friends at The SilverCup we'd all be overpowered. Maybe we can shakethem off. If so, we'll take a wide curve to our place.You ride a little ahead now. I can use the rifle better,as you have to look out for Billy besides yourself."
Arenberg urged his horse to greater speed and continuedabout a length ahead of Phil. Fortunately theforest was open here, and they could go at good speedwithout the dangers of tripping or becoming entangled.Phil looked back for the first time. He saw at somedistance a half dozen Comanches on their ponies, mereshadowy outlines in the dusk, but he knew that morewere behind them. His heart sank a little, too, when heremembered the tenacity of the Indians in pursuit.
"They're not gaining, Hans," he said, "and if theydo I'll shoot at the first who comes up. Keep a watchfor a good path, and I'll follow."
They galloped on an hour perhaps, and then theIndians began to yell again. Two or three fired theirrifles, although the bullets fell short.
"Don't worry, Hans," called Phil. "They're merelytrying to frighten us. They have not gained."
He sent back a taunting cry, twirled his own rifle indefiance, and then remembered that it was the slender, long-barreled Kentucky weapon, the highest of its type.He took another glance backward, but this was a measuringone. "It will reach," was his thought. He turnedhis whole body from the hips up in his saddle, took swiftaim at the leading Comanche, and fired. The whitesmoke puffed from the muzzle of his rifle, the report wasuncommonly loud and sharp in the night, and the bulletwent home. The leading Indian fell from his pony inthe snow, and the pony ran away. A fierce cry of ragecame from the Comanches.
