CHAPTER XIV
THE VALLEY OF THE CIMARRON
Because of the next stretch to certain water, a matter of aboutthirty-five miles, another very early start was made after thesurrounding country had been searched by the plainsmen for signs ofIndians. Although later in the season than usual for a caravan to coverthis part of the route, the dreaded dry stretch along the usually emptyriver bed was found broken here and there by shallow pools and advantagewas taken of these to soak the wooden rims of some of the older and morefaulty wagon wheels. One trader with a wagon which never should haveleft Missouri had been put to great trouble to keep the tires on his twofront wheels and had "borrowed" about all the wire and hoop-iron hisfriends felt disposed to give him. He had driven so many pieces of ironbetween the felloes and the tires that daylight could be seen betweenthe two; and on topping a little hill between two ravines near the riverbank one of the tires slipped off and went rolling and bounding down theslope onto the dry river bed. Amid roars of laughter the column stoppeduntil he had recovered it and re-wedged it onto the wheel, and at thenext nooning stop he drove the wagon into a trickle of water runningdown the middle of the river bed and spent most of his time backing andpulling to get every part of the wheels soaked.
A strong body of scouts which had pushed on ahead of the columnreturned shortly after the noon camp had been left, and reported thatabout ten miles farther on a section of the river several hundred yardslong was full of water. Not being able to make the Middle Spring thatday, this wet section of the river was decided upon for the night camp.A score of mounted men were sent on ahead to scour the country for signsof Indians, but became so hungry for the numerous kinds of wild fruitsand berries along the sides of the ravines, that they did their workpoorly and did not reach the proposed camp site much before the caravangot there.
The country was cut by a maze of ravines and gullies and studded withsmall hills, little pastures of excellent grass nestling between them.As the wagons filed down a narrow road onto a pasture fronting on theCimarron a plainsman, who had pushed on ahead of the caravan because hedoubted the seriousness and intelligence of the scouting party, was seendashing down to the farther bank of the river and splashing across itwithout checking the speed of his horse.
One look at him was enough for Woodson, and the sharp blast of the buglecut the air. Wagoners whipped their tired teams into the best speed theycould give and the clatter and screeching of the rumbling wagons filledthe air as they raced around into the circular formation. The scoutbarely had left the river and the wagons still were forming when overthe crest of a hill across the stream appeared a mass of horsemen, theirlances standing like drunken pickets against the sky. No need to askwhat tribe they belonged to, for the hint conveyed by their lances soonwas endorsed by their fantastic two-color blankets, one half red and theother half blue. Most of them wore, in addition to the regular attireof the plains Indians, a leather jacket, and from the heels of theirmoccasins trailed tassels, another mark of their tribe.
These warriors, magnificent specimens of manhood and superb horsemen,appeared to be gigantic as they paused and spread out along the crest ofthe hill, boldly outlined against the bright sky behind them. Theywatched the running circle of wagons stop by jerks as vehicle aftervehicle crowded against the one ahead of it and came to a stand, theteams inside the corral. They rode slowly down the hill, their numbersconstantly growing, as a line of defenders moved out from the encampmentto interpose itself between the camp and the Comanche warriors; and asthe line stopped to wait for the cannons to get into position the redenemy charged with a bedlam of whoops and yells. The two quick roars ofthe cannons and the hurtling solid shot, which raised dust-puffs high upon the hill, checked them and they spread out into two thin lines ofracing horsemen running toward both sides of the encampment.
Woodson, glad that the cannoneers had missed in their panicky aim,ordered the defenders to fall back to the wagons, which they were onlytoo glad to do; but they did not obey his command to cease firing, andsent their hastily aimed balls in the general direction of the enemy. Noharm was done by these, not only because of the poor aim but alsobecause the racing Indians were as yet well out of rifle shot and werehanging over on the far side of their mounts.
Tom ran to the frantically working cannoneers and threw himself amongthem without regard to how he handled them, shouting for them not tofire until Woodson gave the word, and then to load with musket balls andfire as fast and true as they could. Franklin joined him, his face asblack as a thunder cloud, and made threats they knew he would carry outif the instructions were not obeyed.
The racing line drew nearer and nearer, those of the warriors who hadguns discharging them into the air. It looked like a desperate fight wasonly a few seconds away when Hank yelled his discovery. Over the crestof the same hill appeared the women and children of the tribe, theirdogs dragging burdens on their small travoises and the horses pullingthe dragging lodgepoles loaded down with the possessions of theirowners. This meant peace, for if war was intended, all but the warriorswould have been sent away. Some of the more quickwitted of the plainsmenand traders waved their hats at the debouching village across the river,and Woodson, with Tom and Franklin at his side, held up his hand andwalked toward the slowing line. An arrow suddenly quivered in the groundalmost under his feet and he stopped, raising both hands. An Indiandashed back across the river, where he berated a group of non-combatantsand waved them toward the top of the hill. The traveling villageinstantly became a confusion of quick movement and climbed the hill anddipped over its crest much quicker than it had appeared.
Woodson swore under his breath. "Reckon we got ter fight, boys. Looksharp an' fall back ter th' caravan. Drop th' first brave that lifts bowan' arrer!" He glanced back to see how far they had to go and glimpsed adozen men under Hank and Zeb coming to their aid. He raised his hand tothem and they instantly dropped to their knees, their rifles leaping totheir shoulders. "Now," he grated. "We're bein' covered; turn an' run!"As the three men reached the covering party they checked themselves,joined it, faced the savages, and the entire party fell slowly back tothe wagons.
"Funny they didn't send in more'n that one arrer," growled Woodson,thoroughly puzzled. "These hyar ain't Pawnee hoss-stealers; tharfightin' men. _Knock down that gun!_" he snapped as a tenderfoot resteda powerful rifle across a wagon wheel. The man beside the ambitiousIndian fighter struck it aside and the ball went into the ground. "Th'next man as pulls trigger till I says fer him to is goin' to be d----dsorry!" cried the captain, drawing his pistol.
The running line, moving back farther under the threat of the twocannons, gradually stopped, facing the waiting defenders. It seemed likethe calm that precedes a storm. Then down the hill across the river camea small group of savages more outrageously decked out than any seen sofar.
"Th' chiefs," growled Woodson. "Hope we git out o' this without a fight.Even th' Comanches ain't usually anxious ter git inter a clawin' matchwith Americans, though they air th' best o' th' prairie tribes."
"They do about what they please with th' Mexicans," replied Tom; "butthey've larned that Americans air a different breed, an' have betterguns. But some o' thar raids inter Texas have puffed 'em up. I don'tlike thar village climbin' back over that hill."
"If it's ter be peace, I'd a cussed sight ruther have it over th' hillthan planted somewhar close ter us; they'd over-run th' camp an'friction would be shore ter grow. While mebby they can't steal as slickas th' Pawnees, they kin do it good enough ter make us cross-eyedwatchin' 'em. Some tenderfoot shore will ketch one of 'em stealin' hisbelongin's an' start a fight thar an' then, with a hull passel o' 'eminside th' corral. Wall, we'll soon find out what's goin' ter come ofit; they've jined th' line."
The white defenders eagerly watched the pow-wow being held to thesouthwest of the encampment, their rifles balanced for quick handling;then they slowly relaxed and some rested their weapons on the ground.The consulting group of warriors split and from it, riding with slowdignity toward the wago
ns, came two chiefs and two lesser warriors. Theyheld up their hands when within rifle shot and stopped. Woodson, Tom,Franklin, and Haviland, mounted this time, rode with the same slowdignity out to meet them. Franklin could speak their tongue well enoughto make himself understood, and Woodson and Tom knew the universal signlanguage well enough to express themselves in it. As they left the campthey caught a glimpse of another band of warriors riding around theupper end of the hill and roughly estimated the combined force to beclose to five hundred. Here was good reason to be as tactful aspossible. When within speaking distance of the Comanche envoys they drewup and the two groups eyed each other in silence for several minutes.
"Our village on the Washita is no more," said a chief who had enoughlong hair to supply any hirsute deficiency of a dozen men and not sufferby it. "Its ashes are blown by the winds and its smoke brings tears tothe eyes of our squaws and children. Our winter maize is gone and ourstorehouses lie about the ground. White Buffalo and his braves werehunting the buffalo beyond the Cimarron. Their old men and their squawsand children were with them. Some of my young men have just returned andbrought us this news. What have the white men to say of this?"
"Our hearts are heavy for our friends the Comanches," answered Woodson."There are many tribes of white men, as there are many tribes ofIndians. There are the Americanos, the Mexicanos, the Englise, and theTejanos. The Americans come from the North and the East along theirgreat trail, with goods to trade and with friendship for the Comanches.The Mexicanos would not dare to burn a Comanche village; but with theTejanos are not the Comanches at war? And we have seen Tejanos near thetrail. We have seen where they defeated Armijo's soldiers, almost withinsight of the Arkansas River. Cannot White Buffalo read the signs on theearth? Our trail is plain for many days to the east, for all to see. Hashe seen our wagon tracks to the Washita? Are his young men blind? We aremany and strong and have thunder guns, but we do not fight except toprotect ourselves and our goods. We are traders."
"We are warriors!" exclaimed the chief. "We also are many and strong,and our lances are short that our courage may be long. White Buffalo haslistened. He believes that the white chief speaks with a single tongue.His warriors want the white man's guns and powder; medicine guns thatshoot like the clapping of hands. Such have the Tejanos. He has skinsand meat and _mulos_."
"The medicine guns are Tejano medicine," replied Woodson. "We have onlysuch as I see in the hands of some of our friends, the Comanches. Powderand lead we have little, for we have come far and killed much game; blueand red cloth we have, medicine glasses, beads, awls, knives, tobacco,and firewater we have much of. Our mules are strong and we need nomore." He looked shrewdly at a much-bedecked Indian at the chief's side."We have presents for the Comanche Medicine Man that only his eyes maysee."
The medicine man's face did not change a muscle but there came a gleamto his eyes that Woodson noted.
"The Comanches are not like the Pawnees or Cheyennes to kill their eyesand ears with firewater," retorted the chief. "We are not Pawnee dogsthat we must hide from ourselves and see things that are not. Our hairis long, that those may take it who can. I have spoken."
There was some further talk in which was arranged a visit from theComanche chief; the bartering price of mules, skins, and meat, as wasthe custom of this tribe; a long-winded exchange of compliments andassurances of love and good will, in the latter both sides making plentyof reservations.
When Woodson and his companions returned to the encampment they wentamong the members of the caravan with explicit instructions, hoping bythe use of tact and common sense to avert friction with their expectedvisitors. Small articles were put away and the wagon covers tightlydrawn to minimize the opportunities of the Indians for theft.
The night passed quietly and the doubled guard apparently was wasted.Shortly after daylight the opposite hill suddenly swarmed with dashingwarriors, whose horsemanship was a revelation to some of the tenderfeet.Following the warriors came the non-combatants of the tribe, pouringdown the slope in noisy confusion. Woodson swore under his breath as hesaw the moving village enter the shallow waters of the river to camp onthe same side with the caravan, for it seemed that his floweryassurances of love and esteem had been taken at their face value; but hewas too wise to credit this, knowing that Indians were quick to takeadvantage of any excuse that furthered their ends. The closer togetherthe two camps were the more easily could the Indians over-run thecorralled traders.
Reaching the encampment's side of the stream the lodges were erectedwith most praiseworthy speed, laid out in rows, and the work finished ina remarkably short time. The conical lodges averaged more than a dozenfeet in diameter and some of them, notably that of the chief, weresomewhere near twice that size.
In the middle of the morning the chiefs and the more important warriorspaid their visit to the corral and were at once put in good spirits by asalute from the cannons, a passing of the red-stone pipes, and byreceiving presents of tobacco and trade goods. While they sat on theground before Woodson's wagon and smoked, the medicine man seemedrestless and finally arose to wander about. He bumped into Tom Boyd, whohad been waiting to see him alone, and was quickly led to Franklin'swagon where the owner, hiding his laughter, was waiting. It is well tohave the good will of the chiefs, but it is better also to have that ofthe medicine man; and wily Hank Marshall never overlooked that end of itwhen on a trading expedition among the Indians. He had let Woodson intohis secret before the parley of the day before, and now his scheme wasabout to bear fruit.
Franklin made some mysterious passes over a little pile of goods whichwas covered with a gaudy red cloth on which had been fastened some beadsand tinsel; and as he did so, both Tom and Hank knelt and bowed theirheads. Franklin stepped back as if fearful of instant destruction, andthen turned to the medicine man, who had overlooked nothing, with anexpression of reverent awe on his face.
For the next few minutes Franklin did very well, considering that heknew very little of what he was talking about, but he managed to conveythe information that under the red cloth was great medicine, found nearthe "Thunderer's Nest," not far from the great and sacred red pipestonequarry of the far north. The mention of this Mecca of the Indians,sacred in almost every system of Indian mythology, made a greatimpression on the medicine man and it was all he could do to keep hisavaricious fingers off the cloth and wait until Franklin's discourse wasfinished. The orator wound up almost in a whisper.
"Here is a sour water that has the power to foretell peace or war," hedeclaimed, tragically. "There are two powders, found by the chief of theHurons, under the very nest of the Thunder Bird. They look alike, yetthey are different. One has no taste and if it is put into some of thesour water the water sleeps and tells of peace; but if the other, whichhas a taste, is put in the medicine water, the water boils and cries forwar. It is powerful medicine and always works."
The eyes of the red fakir gleamed, for with him often lay the decisionas to peace or war, and in this respect his power was greater even thanthat of a chief. After a short demonstration with the water, to whichhad been added a few drops of acid, the two powders, one of which wassoda, were tested out. The medicine man slipped his presents under hisrobe, placed his fingers on his lips and strode away. When the nextComanche war-council was held he would be a dominating figure, and thefame of his medicine would spread far and wide over the Indian country.
"Got him, body an' soul!" chuckled Franklin, rubbing his hands. "Did yesee his mean ol' eyes near pop out when she fizzed? He saw all th' resto' th' stuff an' he won't rest till he gits it all; an' he won't git itall till his tribe or us has left. He plumb likes th' fizz combination,an' mebby would want to try it out hyar an' now. Thar won't be notrouble with _these_ Injuns this trip."
"An' that thar black sand ye gave him," laughed Hank, leaning backagainst a wagon wheel, "that looks like powder, so he kin make his spellover real powder, slip th' sand in its place, an' show how his medicinewill fix th' powder of thar enemies so it won't touch off! Did ye seeth
' grin on his leather face, when he savvied that? He's a wise ol'fakir, _he_ is!"
Tom grinned at Franklin. "Hank, here, has got th' medicine men o' th'Piegan Blackfeet eatin' out o' his hand. Every time th' Crows git afterhim too danged hot he heads fer th' Blackfoot country. They onlyfollered him thar onct. What all did ye give 'em, Hank?"
"Oh, lots o' little things," chuckled Hank, reminiscently. "Th' medicinemen o' th' Blackfeet air th' greatest in th' world; thar ain't noothers kin come within a mile o' 'em, thanks ter me an' a chemist I knowback in St. Louie. Th' other traders allus git what I leave."
When the important Indian visitors left there was quite a littleceremony, and the camp was quiet until after the noon meal. Early in theafternoon, according to the agreement with the chief and the medicineman, the Indians visited the encampment in squads, and at no time wasthere more than thirty or forty savages in the encampment at once.Instead of the usual attempted stampede of the animals at night all waspeaceful; and instead of having to remain for two or three days in camp,at all times in danger of a change in the mood of the savages, thecaravan was permitted to leave on the following morning, which miraclethrew Woodson into more or less of a daze. As the last wagon rounded ahillock several miles from the camp site a mounted Comanche rode out ofthe brush and went along the column until he espied Franklin; and a fewmoments later he rode into the brush again, a bulging red cloth bundlestowed under his highly ornamented robe.
But there was more than the desire to trade, the professed friendshipand the bribery of the medicine man that operated for peace in the mindsof the Comanches. Never so early in the history of the trail had theyattacked any caravan as large as this one and got the best of the fight.In all the early years of the trail the white men killed in suchencounters under such conditions, could be counted on the fingers of onehand; while the Indian losses had been considerable. With all theirvaunted courage the Comanches early had learned the difference betweenAmericans and Mexicans, and most of their attempts against largecaravans had been more for the purpose of stampeding the animals thanfor fighting, and their efforts mostly had been "full of sound andfury," like Macbeth's idiot's tale, and signified nothing. Still, thecaravan breathed easier as mile after mile took it away from thatencampment; but their escape was not regarded so seriously as to makethem pass Middle Spring, where good water always could be found, andhere they corralled.
Tom and his friends had grown more alert since leaving the Arkansas, andwithout showing it had kept a close watch over Pedro and his companions.The actions of these and of a few Americans, Franklin among the latter,seemed to merit scrutiny. A subtle change was taking place in them.Franklin spent more of his time near Tom and Hank, and Pedro and some ofthe Mexicans were showing a veiled elation tinged with anxiety. WhereverTom went he was watched, and if he joined the advance guard, or the rearguard, or the flanking parties, Franklin was certain to show up. Heseemed to have taken a belated but strong fancy to the young plainsman.When Hank and Tom took the packs from the backs of their mules at nightnot a move they made was missed; and they soon learned that quite a fewof the Mexicans were sleeping in the wagons of friends during themorning traveling.
It was here at Middle Spring where Tom and Jim Ogden staged a seriousdisagreement, which spread to one between Hank Marshall and ZebHoughton, and resulted in the two sets of partners becoming estranged.When questioned about it in indirect ways by Franklin, Ogden sullenlysaid that he could handle his troubles without the aid of others, and_would_ handle them "danged quick" if a certain plainsman didn't lookout. Zeb was not so cautious and his remarks, vague as they were, wereplain enough to bring fleeting smiles to the faces of Pedro and hisfriends.
The grass was better here than at any place since the Arkansas had beenleft and as some of the animals were beginning to show unmistakablesigns of the long journey, it was decided to remain here another nightand give them a chance to recuperate a little. The news was hailedjoyfully and numerous hunting parties were arranged at the fires thefirst night. Woodson called for volunteers to form a strong day guardfor the animals, which he wanted driven from the camp to graze over thebest grass, and he asked for another strong guard to watch the corral,since Comanches, Pawnee Picts, Kiowas, and even more northern tribes outon horse-stealing expeditions could be looked for without undulystraining the imagination. Arapahoes, Utes, and even Cheyennes were notstrangers to the valley of the Cimarron, and once in a while Apacheraiders paid it flying visits.
Woodson made the round of the fires, trying to discourage the formationof so many small hunting parties while the caravan was corralled in suchbroken and dangerous country, and succeeded in reducing the numbers ofthe hunters about half and in consolidating them into two large parties,capable of offering some sort of resistance to an Indian attack. One ofthese he put under the command of Hank, to that person's great disgust,for Hank had planned to go on a hunt with his partner, and to join Ogdenand Houghton when well away from the camp. Tom was to remain with thewagons; Ogden was to have charge of the other hunting party, andHoughton and Franklin were to stay near the grazing herd.
The fires dimmed here and there as their builders forsook them forblankets; others glowed brilliantly, among them the fire of Tom andHank. The former had said good night to Joe Cooper and Patience and waswalking toward his fire when Pedro silently joined him and went alongwith him. Hank was off entertaining a party of tenderfeet with tales ofmiraculous adventures in the mountains, and after lying to the best ofhis ability for two hours, and hardly being questioned, he described awonderful country lying east of Henry's Fork of the Snake River; southof the Snow Mountains; north of Jackson's Lake and west of the ShoshonesMountains. It lay along the Yellowstone River and the headwaters of theStinking Water, and it contained all manner of natural wonders, which hedescribed earnestly and graphically, to bursts of laughter. The moreearnest he became the more his auditors roared and finally he got to hisfeet, glared around the circle, declared he was not going to "eddicateairy passel o' danged fools," and stalked away in high dudgeon,muttering fiercely. Reaching his own fire he threw himself down by itand glared at the glowing embers as if he held them responsible.
Tom nudged Pedro. "Somebody ask ye fer a left-hand wipin' stick, Hank?"he asked.
"Thar a passel o' fools!" snorted Hank. "If hoss sense war ten paceswide an' ten miles long in every man, ye couldn't collect enough o' itin th' whole danged party fer ter make an ear tab fer a buffaler gnat!"
"Tellin' 'em about that thar river ye saw that couldn't find no wayouter th' valley, an' finally had ter flow up over a mounting?"
"Ye mean them up-side-down water falls?" queried Hank, grinning. "Yes,an' some o' 'em come clost ter swallerin' it. Why, I sot thar an' filled'em plumb ter th' ears with lies an' they didn't hardly wink an eye.Then I told 'em o' that valley on th' Yallerstun, whar th' Injuns won'tgo because they figger it's th' home o' th' Devil. An' th' more I told'em about it, th' more th' danged fools laughed! I'd like ter hold 'emover one o' them thar water-squirts, or push 'em down into th' bilin'mud pots! Swallered th' lies, dang 'em, an' spit out th' truth!"
Tom roared and after a moment looked curiously at his partner. "Ithought ye said you'd never tell nobody about that country ag'in?"
"Oh, I felt so danged sorry fer thar ignorance that I reckoned I'deddicate 'em, th' dumb fools! If I had a ox an' it didn't know more'nthem all put together, danged if I wouldn't shoot it!" He sliced off apipeful of tobacco and pulled an ember from the fire. "What you an'Pedro been hatchin' out?"
"Nothin', yit," answered Tom; "but I would like ter hear a little more'bout that thar roundabout trail inter Santa Fe." He looked at Pedro."How fur away from hyar does it begin?"
"Not so ver' far, senor," answered the Mexican. "Thees way from theeUpper Spr-ring, where thee soldats are used to meet thee car-ravan. Wecome to eet soon. We should leeve thees camp tomor-row night."
"What's th' use o' that when ye said th' soldiers ain't goin' ter meetus this year?" demanded Tom.
"Why don't
they meet th' trains whar they oughter, 'stead o' waitin'till they git past th' Injun dangers?" demanded Hank with some feeling.
"Does not thee senor know?" chuckled Pedro. "Eet ees not for protec'thee car-ravan that they meet eet. Eet ees that no man may leave theetr-rail an' smuggle hees goods past thee customs. For what does ManuelArmijo care for protec' thee traders? Eef he deed, would he not meetthem at thee Arkansas? Eet ees only for thee customs that he sends theesoldats. To get away fr-rom theese we mus' tak thee other tr-rail befo'eet ees too late."
"That's all right fer other years," growled Tom; "but if they ain'tgoin' ter meet us _this_ time we kin stick ter th' trail an' leave it alot closer ter Santer Fe."
Pedro was doing his best to play safe from all angles. If the troopstried to take Tom Boyd from the caravan, or show that he was a prisoner,a great deal of trouble might come out of it, for these Americans weredevils for sticking together. If that fear were groundless, then TomBoyd and his trapper friends, on sight of the troops, might cut and run;and if forced to stand and fight they could be counted on to give a goodaccount of themselves against the poorer arms of their Mexican enemies;and somewhere in the hills he thought there were Texans and he knew themwell enough to know that they would only be too glad to take a hand inany fight against Mexicans if they learned of it in time. At first hehad been content to get Tom Boyd to the Upper Spring or to Cold Spring,only a few miles farther on, and there turn his responsibility over tothe commander of the troops. If he could get them to slip away fromtheir friends and be captured out of sight and hearing of the caravanit would suit him much better; and if he could coax them to take theirgoods with them, he and his friends could divide the spoils and slip theplunder past the customs officers. The caravan was now within fiftymiles of Cold Spring and he must make up his mind and act quickly.
"Eet ees then you weesh to pay thee char-rges?" the Mexican asked,raising his eyebrows.
"No!" growled Hank. "They air a robbery, plain an' simple."
"No!" said Tom, who was giving but little thought to the customs duties,but a great deal to his own personal freedom. He did not want to meetany kind of officers, customs or otherwise. He would have jumped at asecret trail into the settlements had he not known so much about Pedro."At th' same time I ain't hankerin' fer ter leave th' caravan so soon.We're nigh three hundred miles from Sante Fe, an' thar ain't no way wekin go that'll cut off ten miles. This wagon road runs nigh as straightas th' crow flies. What about grass fer th' mules, an' water?"
"Ah," breathed Pedro. "We weel not go to Santa Fe, senor; we go nearTaos, less than two hundred mile away from here. Along thee OcateCr-reek I haf fr-riends who know ver' well thee mountains. They weel takus over them. How can thee senores sell their goods onless by ways thatar-re made? Weeth us we haf men that know that tr-rail. We weel send onebefor-re to thee Ocate, an' follow heem fast."
Tom studied the fire for a few moments and then looked up at his guest."We want ter think this over, Pedro," he said. "You figger what per cento' th' customs savings you want fer yer share, an' we'll decidetomorrow night. Hank, here, wants ter go ter Bent's an' reckons we kingit a good price thar fer our goods. Let you know then. Good night."
After Pedro had painted the picture of the innocent-looking loads offaggots and sheepskins, hay and produce, towering over the backs of thenearly hidden pack mules as they toiled through the canyon and over therough trail leading from the Valley of Taos into Santa Fe, their loadspassing the customs house without drawing even a careless glance andthen, by many turnings, safely arriving at various destinations withtheir smuggled goods; after he had described the care and foresight ofhis friends and their trustworthiness, and made many knowing bows andgrimaces, he smilingly departed and left the partners to themselves.
Knowing that they were being watched they idled before the fire,careless now of their store of wood, of which plenty was at hand, andtalked at random; but through the droning of their careless words manytimes there could be heard the name "Bent's Fort," which Hank mentionedwith affectionate inflections. It seemed that he very strongly preferredto go to that great trading post and rendezvous of hunters and trappers,where old friends would be met and new ones made. Tom held out for SantaFe, but did not show much enthusiasm. Finally they rolled up in theirblankets, feet toward the fire and heads close together and simulatedsleep. Half an hour later they were holding a whispered conversationwhich was pitched so low they barely could hear each other.