"No cause for alarm, gentlemen," Lady Carey said. "That's Elphinstone--he's Willy's boa." "Only he's too big for me," Willy said. "Mamma and Emerald play with him now.
Mrs. Chubb doesn't care for snakes. She hides her eyes when Elphinstone eats his rats." Emerald walked over and handed the boa to Lady Carey, who let it slither over her lap and off under the table.
"I think he wants George," Lady Carey said. "Cake crumbs don't satisfy a boa, but I expect a smelly little beast such as George would be a treat." "But Mamma, he can't have George!" Willy insisted. "He finds quite a lot of rats --I shouldn't think he'd need to eat our dog." "Who knows what a boa needs, Willy?" Lady Carey said. "I'm afraid we've let all these beasts distract us. Willy and I want to go home, gentlemen, and the Mexican government has agreed to release us.
What they won't do is provide us with an escort, and we're rather a long way from a seaport." "I'll say," Long Bill said. "It's so far I wouldn't even know which one to head for." "Galveston is the most feasible, I believe," Lady Carey said. "I'd rather try for Galveston than Veracruz. If we travel through Mexico the greedy generals might decide they want more ransom--my father has already paid them a handsome sum. He didn't pay it for me, of course--father wouldn't waste a shilling on a leprous daughter. He paid it for the young viscount here. Willy's the one he needs--Willy's the heir." The Rangers listened silently to what Lady Carey said. Call looked at Gus, who looked at Long Bill. Brognoli continued to swing his head, and Wesley Buttons, who was a slow eater, was still consuming the last crumbs of one of the big scones with raisins in it. The others had accepted that the big snake was a pet, but Wesley didn't trust snakes, particularly not snakes that were longer than he was tall. This one had slithered off somewhere, but it could always slither back and take a bite out of him. He was careful to keep both feet on the rungs of his stool, and did not pay much attention to the talk of ransoms and seaports. He would go where the boys went--he was happy to let them decide.
"Ma'am, we'll be pleased to take you to Galveston," Call said. "If we can find the way. It's a far piece, though, and we've got no mounts and no gear. Our horses got stolen, and the Mexicans took our guns." "Fortunately, we aren't poor yet, we Careys," Lady Carey said. "I didn't expect you to walk across Texas barefoot, in leg irons. We have our own mounts, and we'll soon find some for you. You look like honest men-- I'll send you to town with enough gold to equip us properly. Don't skimp, either. Buy yourselves reliable weapons and warm clothes and trustworthy mounts. We have a tent large enough for ourselves and Miss Roberts--but I'm afraid you men will have to sleep out, if it's not too inconvenient." "We don't know how to sleep no way but out," Gus said. "If we can get some slickers and some blankets we'll be cozy, I guess." Just then, the snake emerged and began to glide up one of the bedposts. Soon it disappeared, back onto the canopy over the big bed. Wesley Buttons cautiously put his feet back on the ground.
"I expect it's a little too late to send you to town today," Lady Carey said. "Emerald, tell Manuel to get the irons off these men. I want them to get into town early tomorrow. I want to leave San Lazaro quickly--these greedy Mexicans might change their minds." "Come," Emerald said. "We've fixed a room for you. The mattresses are just corn shuck, but it will be more comfortable than the place the Mexicans put you." When they left the room, Willy had seated himself next to his mother and was helping her select from a bunch of storybooks, piled beside the low settee where Lady Carey sat. She raised her head to them, as they left the room, but all they could see were her veils.
"I wonder how bad she is, with the leprosy?" Gus asked, as the Texans were following Emerald along the balcony to their quarters.
"Wouldn't it be awful if she didn't have no nose?" "Yes, it would be awful, but I like her anyway," Call said. "She's going to get us out of here. I never supposed we'd be this lucky." Gus thought of the long miles they had to travel, over the dry, windy country, to get even as far back as the settlements around Austin. It was a long way, even to the mountains where Josh Corn and Zeke Moody had been killed. And if they got that far, they would be in the land of Buffalo Hump.
"We don't know yet if we're lucky," he said. "We got to go right across where that Comanche is." "It still beats being a prisoner and wearing these damn chains," Call said. part IV
Buffalo Hump caught Kirker, the scalp hunter, in a rocky gully just east of the Rio Pecos. Kirker had forty scalps with him at the time. Buffalo Hump judged the scalps to be mostly Mexican scalps, but he tortured Kirker to death anyway. The man had not been easy to take. He had managed to get in amid some rocks and delayed them a whole day, an annoying thing to the war chief. The Comanche moon was full--he wanted to follow the old trail, down into Mexico, and bring back captives, children they could use as slaves, or sell to the half-breed traders, in the trading place called the Sorrows, near the dripping springs where travelers on the llano stopped to rest and water their animals.
Buffalo Hump did not like having to slow his raid to catch one scalp hunter, a man so weak that he only killed Mexicans and rarely even attempted to take an Apache scalp, or a Comanche. At first he considered leaving three men, to hide and wait. When Kirker thought he was safe and came out of his hiding place in the rocks, the men could kill him and then follow the raiding party south. Kicking Wolf, though, protested so vigorously that Buffalo Hump gave in.
Kirker had killed two of Kicking Wolf's wives, and one of his sons; he had taken their scalps and sold them. Kicking Wolf was not a man who forgave or forgot; he wanted to take part in Kirker's death. The Comanche moon had only just turned full--they could easily sweep on into Mexico and take their captives.
Kicking Wolf even had an idea that would help drive Kirker out of his hole in the rocks, and he put it into practice at night, just before moonrise. He had his young warriors catch several snakes and tie their tails together so tightly that they couldn't rattle well. Of course the rattlers' heads had to be held down with a stick--they grew angry at the mistreatment they received. There were seven snakes in all.
Once the seven were bound together by their tails, a young brave named Fast Boy climbed up on the rocks above Kirker and threw the bundle of snakes down on top of him. Kirker screamed when the first snake bit him--when he screamed, revealing his position, Buffalo Hump himself jumped down on him and knocked his gun away before he could kill himself. Fortunately, the snake had only bitten Kirker in the leg; the wound would not kill him, or weaken him enough to spoil the torture. Even before they got Kirker back to camp, Kicking Wolf, who could not be restrained when he was angry, poked a sharp stick in Kirker's ear, destroying his eardrum and causing much blood to run out of his head. Kirker snarled and howled, like a tied wolf. He spat at the Comanches so many times that Buffalo Hump took a needle and a thread and sewed his lips together; after that he could not scream loudly, though he rolled and writhed and made gurgling sounds as he was being burnt and cut by Kicking Wolf, who insisted on doing most of the torturing himself. Some of the braves were in favor of saving Kirker; they wanted to send him back to the main camp, so the squaws could torture him. One squaw named Three Seed was better at torture than any man. She could bite off a man's fingers or toes as neatly as if she were merely biting a willow twig.
Buffalo Hump, though, was impatient. It was true that Kirker was a bad man who deserved to be tortured by the squaws, but the squaws were four days' ride to the north, and the raiders' business lay to the south. Kicking Wolf might not be as expert at torture as Three Seed, but he was good enough to make Kirker writhe and gurgle through a whole afternoon. He had been burned and cut and blinded when they took him to a small tree near the Pecos and tied him upside down. They built a small fire beneath his dangling head, and prepared to ride off; the greasewood would burn all night. Long before the sun rose, Kirker's head would be cooked.
Even so, when Buffalo Hump mounted and indicated that it was time to take advantage of the Comanche moon and get on with the serious business of the raid, Kicking Wolf refused to leave.
> He was determined to enjoy Kirker's torture to the end. He jabbed a thorny stick into Kirker's other ear, and let blood from his head drip into the fire.
Buffalo Hump was irritated, but Kicking Wolf, as a warrior, could do as he pleased, up to a point. The man knew the way to Mexico as well as anyone. It was not likely that Kirker would last until the morning--Kicking Wolf would follow and catch up the next day.
Still, before he left, Buffalo Hump made sure Kicking Wolf knew he was expected in Mexico soon. Kicking Wolf was the best horse thief in the tribe, and also the best stealer of children. He moved without making any sound at all. Once or twice he had reached through a window and taken a child while its parents were right in the room, eating or quarreling. Buffalo Hump did not want Kicking Wolf lingering too long, just to torture one scalp hunter. The man was already too weak to respond strongly to torture, anyway. He only jerked a little, and made a weak sound behind his sewn lips when the flames touched his head.
Kicking Wolf paid little attention to Buffalo Hump and the other warriors, as they rode off to the south. He was glad the war chief was gone-- Buffalo Hump was a great fighter, but he was too impatient for the slow business of torture.
For the same reason, Buffalo Hump was not an especially good hunter--he often jumped too soon. Torture took patience, and Buffalo Hump didn't have it. Before the warriors were even out of sight, Kicking Wolf took a stick or two off the fire and touched them to Kirker here and there, causing the man to jerk like a speared fish. The jerking made Kicking Wolf happy. It was good to be rid of the impatient war chief, good to be alone to hurt the man who had scalped his wives and his little son. In a little while, he cut the bloody threads that Buffalo Hump had used to sew Kirker's lips together. Then he stoked the fire a little and grabbed Kirker by the hair, so he could hold the man's face right over the flames.
He wanted to hear the man scream.
After the first screams were over, Kicking Wolf scattered the fire a little and let Kirker's head hang down again. He got up and walked a short distance to a pile of rocks, carrying one of the burning sticks, to give him a little light. He wanted to find some little scorpions and put them on the white man. The scorpions would hurt him but would not kill him, and the torture could go on.
Call was surprised by Lady Carey's riding. She rode sidesaddle, of course, but handled her black gelding as expertly as any man. She could even make the horse jump, putting him over little gullies and small bushes while at a gallop. Call thought that was foolish, but he had to admit it was skillful, and pretty to watch. Willy tried to get his pony to jump like his mother's gelding, but of course the pony wouldn't. Mrs. Chubb rode a donkey, and protested constantly about its behaviour, though Gus pointed out to her that her donkey behaved no worse than most donkeys.
"In England they behave better, sir," Mrs. Chubb insisted. "This one tried to bite my toe." Emerald, the tall Negress, rode a large white mule; she astonished Gus when she told him that the mule had sailed over from Ireland, along with Willy's pony and Lady Carey's black gelding.
"I doubt I could get fond enough of a mule to bring one on a ship," Gus said. He himself was riding a lively bay, procured in El Paso. In fact, thanks to Lady Carey's largesse, they were all better mounted than they had been at any time during their journeying. Each man had two horses, and there were four pack mules. One carried Lady Carey's canvas tent; the others carried provisions, including plenty of ammunition. They all had first-rate weapons, too--brand-new rifles and pistols, and a pretty shotgun for shooting fowl. Gus was eager to try the shotgun on prairie chickens-- he had acquired a taste for the birds, but traveling east out of El Paso, they saw no prairie chickens, only desert. Gus did manage to bring down a lean jackrabbit with the shotgun, but upon inspecting the rabbit, Emerald declined to cook it.
"Lady Carey doesn't care for hares, unless they're jugged," she said. Lady Carey had raced far ahead. She was still completely veiled, so veiled that Call didn't know how she could see prairie-dog holes and other dangers of the trail. But she rode fast, her veils flying, and the black gelding rarely stumbled.
At four, to the Rangers' astonishment, the party stopped so that tea could be served. A small table was set up, covered with a white damask cloth.
A fire was made; while Emerald sliced a small ham and made little sandwiches, Mrs.
Chubb brewed the tea. The sugar bowl was brought out and sugar tonged into the cups. All the Rangers liked the tea and drank in the desert.
The boys could drink all the tea they wanted at night--why waste the daylight? But he had to admit that otherwise Lady Carey's arrangements had been excellent. The saddles were the best that could be located in El Paso; also, mindful that winter was approaching, Lady Carey had insisted that they buy slickers, warm coats, and plenty of blankets. If Caleb Cobb's expedition had been half so well equipped, it might have succeeded, at least in Call's view.
With proper equipment, it would have had a chance.
At night, with Long Bill's help and Gus's, Emerald set up Lady Carey's tent. While the tent was being anchored, Lady Carey sat by the campfire and read Willy stories from one of the storybooks they had with them.
Some of the Rangers, unused to having a lady handy who would read, listened to the stories and enjoyed them as much as Willy. Matilda Roberts, for her part, enjoyed them more than Willy--the young viscount, after all, had had the stories read to him many times. But Matilda had never heard of Little Red Riding Hood, or Jack and the Beanstalk.
She sat entranced, letting her tea grow cold, as Lady Carey read.
Even more entrancing than the stories was Lady Carey's singing. Mostly she sang light tunes, "Annie Laurie," "Barbara Allen," and the like--the light tunes suited the men best. But now and then, as if bored with the sentimental tunes, Lady Carey would suddenly let her voice grow and grow, until it seemed to fill the va/s of the desert. She sang in a tongue none of them knew--none, that is, except Quartermaster Brognoli, who suddenly stood up and attempted to sing with her. He had not emitted an intelligible sound in so long that his voice was hoarse and raspy, but he was trying to sing and there was life in his eyes again. A vein stood out on his forehead as he attempted to sing with Lady Carey.
"Why, he's Italian and he knows his operas," Lady Carey said. "Now that he's found his voice again, I expect he'll be singing arias in a day or two." That prediction proved wrong, for Quartermaster Brognoli died that night. Call looked at him in the morning, and saw at once that he was dead. His head was twisted far around on his back and neck.
"I guess that jerking finally killed him," Gus said, when the sad news was reported.
"No, it was the opera," Lady Carey said.
"Or perhaps it was just hearing his native tongue." Quartermaster Brognoli was buried in the hard ground--the four remaining Rangers took turns digging. Lady Carey sang the same piece she had sung when the Mexican firing squad cut down Bigfoot and the others. All the men cried, although Wesley Buttons had never been fond of Brognoli. Still, they had traveled a long way together, and now the man was dead. In the va/s of the desert, each reduction of the group made them realize how small they were, how puny, in relation to the space they were traveling through.
"We're back where it's wild again," Call said.
Lady Carey happened to overhear the remark-- she drew rein for a moment, looking toward a faint outline of mountains in the east.
"Yes, it's wild, isn't it," she said.
"It's like a smell. I smelled it in Africa and now I smell it here." "It means we have to be careful," Call said.
Lady Carey looked again at the distant mountains.
"Quite the contrary, Corporal Call," she said. "It means we have to be wild, like the wild men." She turned her head toward him, and sat watching him for a moment. Call couldn't see her eyes, through the several dark veils, but he knew she was watching him. One of her shirtsleeves had ridden up a bit--he could see just a bit of her wrist, between the shirtsleeve and her black glove. He and Gus had speculated
a little, about how affected Lady Carey was by the leprosy.
She had no trouble handling her horse, and she was dexterous with her hands, when it came to pouring tea, or buttering muffins. The wrist he saw was a creamy white--much whiter than Matilda's.
Matty was brown from the sun.
Although she had been always polite, Call felt nervous, knowing that her hidden eyes were fixed on him.
"Are you wild enough, Corporal Call?" Lady Carey asked. "I have a feeling you are." "I guess we'll see," Call said.
The Comanches struck deep into Mexico, under the bright moon. In Chihuahua Buffalo Hump struck a ranch, killed the rancher and his wife and all the vaqueros, and took three children and seventy horses. He ordered three young braves, led by Fast Boy, back up the war trail with the horses. He wanted the horses safely back in the main camp, in the Palo Duro Canyon, before the worst of the winter ice storms came. They could eat the horses, if buffalo proved scarce.