CHAPTER XIX
RUN TO GROUND
Bending low, now creeping on all fours, now running with his bodydoubled to his knees, diverging to right or left as projections in theLava Beds seemed to offer a favourable screen, but ever and alwaysmaking for the front, the solitary man pressed on, his rifle graspedsometimes in the left hand, sometimes in the right, as the need forusing one hand or the other in his advance arose. Twice he stopped torecover breath, while pushing his way onward, and cautiously twisted hishead around to see what had become of his Pueblo friends; but they wereinvisible. Their skill in keeping under cover at least was undeniable.On he went again, till finally he reached the brow of the great rise inthe lava bed from which Miguel had reconnoitred the Navajo camp. Pastthis he tried to get without exposing himself unduly, but thrice hefailed to find cover, and retreated again to look for a better spot. Thefourth time he found a hollow in the lava with a rise on the right of itthat promised him some shelter, and flat on his face in this he wormedhimself slowly along, the eager bulldog flattening himself against therock by his side. Often had he crawled like this beside his master toget a chance at a deer. But it was more dangerous game than deer thatthey were stalking now. Having gained some twenty yards by this creep,Stevens slowly raised his head to get a view of the new ground that heknew should become visible in front of him from here. He caught sight ofa little green oasis amid the lava beyond, of a band of ponies grazingin it, and of figures seated in a group on the far side; and, by Heaven!amid the figures his quick eye detected the flutter of a pink muslinwhich he had often seen Manuelita wear.
"Great Scot!" he ejaculated, "she's found. There she is." He raisedhimself a little higher to get a better view, and take in the details ofthe hostile camp, when suddenly a jet of smoke came out of the lavascarce a hundred yards away, the sharp snap of a rifle was heard, and abullet clapped loudly on the rock close to his head. The Navajos werenot taken by surprise.
The Navajos had spotted the Pueblo scouts; they took their appearance asa signal for fight, and now they were ready to give them or anyone withthem a warm reception. This bullet was their first greeting.
The lead, splashing off the rock, spattered sharply on Stephens's cheek.Instinctively he threw up his right hand and passed it over the side ofhis face, but the splashes did not even draw blood, and his eye washappily uninjured. In a moment he raised his rifle to shoot back, butbefore he could get a bead the gleam of the rifle-barrel from which theshot had come, and the head of the Indian that had aimed it disappeared."Dropped down to reload," said the frontiersman to himself. "He's agoodish shot, that Navajo son of a gun; that was a close call."
Lowering his head under cover, he decided to try a trick. Opening arecess in the butt of his Winchester, he drew out four little iron rodswhich, when screwed together, made a cleaning-rod about thirty inches inlength. Then he took off his hat, put the end of the cleaning-rod insideit, and slowly hoisted it into view a yard or so away to the right ofwhere he had looked over before. He lay on his left side and elbow, withhis Winchester in his left hand, and the right arm extended raising thehat. Snap went the sharp report of a rifle again; there was a holethrough the hat; dropping the rod instantly he seized his rifle withboth hands and raised himself for a quick shot. But there was nothingvisible worth shooting at. Once more the quick dissolving puff of smokeand the gleam of a rifle-barrel disappearing were all that he got aglimpse of. His little ruse had failed, and he was clearly discomfited,while a loud whoop of derision rang out from the rocks; it was theNavajo equivalent for "Sold again!" It was echoed from another quarter,and from another, by wild unearthly yells.
"Aha, white man," those yells seemed to say, "we've caught you now! Howdo you feel now? This is our country and not yours; aha! it is our home,and it shall be your grave; the vulture and the coyote know the Navajowar-whoop, and they are hurrying to pick your bones. Aha, aha!"
The solitary man felt his heartstrings quiver at the cruel sounds, buthe kept his eyes glued to the place where the puffs of smoke had comefrom; the next time that devilish redskin put up his head to fire hewould try who could draw a bead the quicker.
At this moment he was startled by a loud, coarse voice, quite close tohim apparently, but coming from an unseen speaker. The words wereSpanish. "_Es tu_, Sooshiuamo?"--"Is it you, Sooshiuamo?" The voice wasthe unmistakable voice of Mahletonkwa, with its thick, guttural tones.
Stephens hesitated a moment. Should he break silence and answer? He hadneither fired a shot nor uttered a sound so far. But he had beendiscovered, for all that, and was there any further use in trying toconceal his exact position? He decided to answer.
"_Si, soy_," he called out in a loud voice. "Yes, that's who I am. Isthat you there, Mahletonkwa?" But he did not turn his eyes in thedirection of the unseen voice that had addressed him; he kept themfastened on the distant spot where he expected the rifle-barrel toreappear. Nor did he judge amiss. The hidden marksman, who thought thatthe American's gaze would be turned in the direction of the voice inanswer to which he had spoken, put up his rifle for a third shot at him.Quick as lightning Stephens brought the Winchester to his shoulder; buteven now he did not pull the trigger, for as his rifle came up theIndian's head went down again, and again those wild derisive whoops rangout, and again the voice of the unseen man, concealed so close to him,addressed him in Spanish.
"What are you doing here, Sooshiuamo? and what do you want?"
Was the voice nearer than before? Was this only a trick of the Navajosto get him off his guard? Stephens mistrusted that it was so; but hecoolly made reply. "Why do your men shoot at me, Mahletonkwa? I want totalk to you. I want that Mexican girl, the Senorita Sanchez, whom youhave carried off." He would see if they were open to an offer.
"Who is with you?" asked the voice of Mahletonkwa. "Who are those behindyou? Where are the soldiers?"
Stephens determined to try to run a bluff.
"They're coming," said he confidently. "Don't you delude yourself. We'vegot force enough to take her back. You'd better surrender her quietly atonce."
"Pooh!" answered Mahletonkwa tauntingly, "you've got no soldiers. Thestorekeeper burnt the letter you sent to the general, I know."
This was a blow to Stephens, and the moment he heard the Indian say it,he recognised the probability of its truth. Backus must have playedtraitor, and, what was more, he must have told the Navajos that he haddone so. This Indian could never have invented such a story himself.
"Suppose he did," returned Stephens, determined to keep up his bluff;"that doesn't prevent me meeting Captain Pfeiffer and a troop of cavalryon the road and bringing them along." He raised his voice so that allthose Indians who were within earshot might hear him. "If you dare hurtone hair of the senorita's head, you will every one of you be shot orhanged. You mark me."
While he was speaking the Navajo who had fired at him twice already putup his head for a third shot, but he bobbed it down quicker than beforeas the ready Winchester came up to the American's cheek.
The prospector lowered his piece once more instead of letting fly; hewas determined not to throw away his first shot. He had plenty ofcartridges, but he knew that to risk beginning with a miss would onlyembolden his enemies, and he meant to strike terror from the start.
The red Indian is as brave as the next man, but he objects to gettingkilled if he can help it, and he will carefully avoid exposing himselfto the aim of a dead-shot. These Navajos had all seen Stephens drive thenail.
Stephens's verbal threat, however, only provoked Mahletonkwa's derision."Pooh!" he retorted jeeringly, "where are your friends now? It isgetting time for them to come and save you. You'll see, though, theycan't do it. We'll show you what we are. We are Tinne; we are men." Theword Tinne means "men" in the Navajo language. They call themselves "themen" _par excellence_.
"Chin-music's cheap," rejoined Stephens, taunting him back. "Say, haveyou forgotten your time on the Pecos at Bosque Redondo already? You feltlike 'men' there, didn't you, when you were grubbing for
roots andcatching grasshoppers and lizards to eat like a lot of dirty Diggers?"
"Hah!" replied the Indian indignantly, "I never saw Bosque Redondo. Allthe soldiers you could get couldn't take me where I didn't choose to go.I don't take orders from any agent or any general. Nobody ever commandsme." There spoke the soul of the true son of the desert. Personalliberty was to him as the breath of his nostrils. Nevertheless, beneathhis boastful assertions Stephens thought he detected an undertone thatmight indicate a willingness to treat, and he slightly altered his owntone.
"Mahletonkwa, you're playing the fool. Why don't you bring the girl backquietly?"
"Well, if you want her," answered the Navajo, "why don't you come out ofyour hole and talk business?"
"Yes, and get shot by treachery for my pains!" answered Stephensindignantly. "I haven't attacked you. Your men began; they've shot atme twice without warning."
"Well," said the Navajo, "you tell your men, if you have any, that theyare not to shoot, and I'll tell mine not to shoot, and then you and Ican talk together. I'm willing to treat."
An idea struck Stephens; he had already insinuated that he had CaptainPfeiffer--a name of terror to the Navajoes and Apaches--at his back; hewould keep up that pretence, at least for a time. He turned and shoutedaloud in English at the pitch of his voice, "O Captain Pfeiffer! OCaptain Pfeiffer! Keep your soldiers back. Don't let them fire a shot."He paused, and then continued shouting again, but this time in Spanish,"O Captain of the Indian scouts," he would not give away the Santiagocacique in any wise by calling him by name, "let your scouts keep theirposts and watch, but let them not fire a shot. Let them wait till Ireturn. Peace talk."
The four Pueblo Indians heard him, and understood, and from theirhiding-places they shouted back in assent.
"You see," cried he to his wily foe, "my men are warned. Do you sendyour men back to your camp, and come out and meet me in the open, eye toeye."
"No treachery?" said the Indian.
"No treachery," answered the white man.
The Navajo called to his companions, and presently Stephens had glimpseshere and there of stealthy forms slinking through the Lava Beds back inthe direction of the oasis where their horses were grazing.
"Now you come out," called Mahletonkwa to the American.
"Come forward then, you, too," said Stephens.
"You first," returned the savage.
Stephens decided to take the risk and set the example. Grasping hisrifle in his left hand, he held it across his body, while he raised hisopen right hand above his head in sign of amity, as he rose to his fullheight. Not twenty yards away, across the ridge of rock that had coveredhim on his right hand, he caught sight of Mahletonkwa's copper-colouredvisage, with the watchful dark eyes fastened on him, as they peeredthrough a loophole-like fissure in the lava, where he was crouching.
Stephens, his head a little thrown back, his breast expanded, bracedhimself to receive, and to return if he could, the treacherous bullet hemore than half expected.
"Stand up there you, Mahletonkwa, like me." He spoke proudly. "Be a man;stand up."
Very watchfully, both hands grasping his gun at the ready, the Indianrose to his feet. He looked like a fierce, cunning wolf hesitatingwhether to snap or to turn tail.
With right hand still extended, Stephens moved step by step towards hisenemy, Faro keeping close to his heels. Not for a moment did the whiteman remove his eye from the Indian, alert to detect the first motiontowards raising the gun, as he felt for his footing on the rough lavablocks, careful not to look down lest an unfair advantage should betaken of him. At five yards off he halted. The fissured rock behindwhich Mahletonkwa had been crouching was now all that separated them.
"Is there not peace between us?" exclaimed Stephens. "What do you fear?Why does your gun point my way?"
"Is not your gun in your hand, too?" returned the Indian. "Put it downand I will put mine down."
Stephens lowered his right hand, and bending his knees slowly he sankhis body near enough to the ground to lay his Winchester at his feet,but he never took his eyes off the Indian, and his fingers stillencircled the barrel and the small part of the stock.
"Down with yours too, Mahletonkwa," he said quietly.
The Indian placed his piece at his feet, hesitated a moment, and thenremoved his hands from it and sat up, resting himself on his heels.Stephens likewise took his hands from his weapon and sat on a rock.Mutual confidence had advanced so far, although each was still intenselysuspicious of the other.
"Now, tell me," said Stephens, "what did you carry off the girl for?"
"To get our pay for our dead brother," returned the red man.
"You did wrong then. You should have complained to the agent at FortDefiance if you thought you had a claim to compensation. You should nothave done an act of war by carrying her off."
"Huh! Was it not you who tried to send for the soldiers when we came toclaim compensation?"
"Certainly I sent for them. You refused a reasonable offer, and youthreatened to kill my Mexican friends instead. That was why I sent forthem."
"It was you who caused the Mexicans to refuse compensation. They wouldhave paid up and settled with us if it had not been for you."
"No, not so. It was you who asked a ridiculous price. I urged NepomucenoSanchez to make terms with you. But not at your price. You asked forthe dead man's weight in silver, pretty near. I don't believe you knowhow much a thousand dollars is; I don't believe you could count it."
"Yes I could," said the Indian sulkily; "it's a back-load for a man tocarry a day's journey."
Stephens figured on the weight, as stated by the Indian, for a moment."Well, I've got to admit you do seem to know something about it, afterall," he answered; "your figures come out about right. And, as I saidbefore, it was a perfectly absurd amount to ask. And then, to make itworse, instead of trying to make terms, you commit an outrage of thiskind by carrying off an innocent girl by violence."
"She has not been ill-treated," said the Indian; "she has not beensubject to violence while we have had her. We have taken good care ofher." He spoke very earnestly and with marked emphasis.
"That's your story," returned Stephens; "I only hope it's true. It'll bebetter for you if it is. But anyways there's no denying the fact thatshe's been brutally dragged from her home."
"That's nothing much," said the Indian briefly; "she's not beenill-treated"; and he explained clearly enough what he meant byill-treatment. Stephens understood him, and shuddered to think of thatpoor girl having lain for two days and nights completely at the mercy ofthis savage. But he remembered Madam Whailahay, and the cacique'swonderful account of the power of that superstition over the Tinne. Itmight prove to be true, as Mahletonkwa asserted, that the captive hadbeen spared the worst. And the Navajo really did seem to have a notionof coming to terms. But on what basis were they to deal? How far couldthey trust each other? That was the crucial question.
"Look here now, Mahletonkwa," said he, "you take me straight to whereshe is, and let me talk to her quietly; and you give me your solemnpromise that you won't try to make me prisoner, but will let me returnto my own men unharmed, and I'll see what I can do to make peace foryou." He had a special object in making this speech; it was to test thetruth of the Indian's words. If the Navajo refused the permission forhim to see her, he would be discrediting his own assertion that the girlwas not seriously harmed; moreover, though Stephens had small faith inthe Indian's honour, and was by no means unprepared to find that thepromise, if given, was given only to entrap him, he nevertheless thoughtit politic thus to require it, that by making such a show of confidenceon his own part in Mahletonkwa's honour he might beget a correspondingreturn of confidence from the other.
The Navajo pondered a moment on the proposition. "Yes," he saidpresently, looking up, his distrustful eyes, still full of suspicion,resting doubtfully on Stephens. "Promise, you, that your men stay wherethey are, and do nothing against us, and I'll take you to her."
"I'll do
that much," answered the American; "so then it's a bargain."
"It's a bargain," returned the red man; the confidence shown in him wasproducing its effect.
"That's all right then," said Stephens cheerfully, rising to his feetand leaving his Winchester still on the ground. He was not one whit lesson the alert than before, but his cue now was to betray no distrust. Forthe first time since their meeting he took his eyes off Mahletonkwa andlooked back to where he had left his Pueblo friends, who had remainedall this time as invisible as ever, waiting on the event with theinexhaustible patience of their race.
"Hullo!" he called back, "you scouts, stay there where you are till Icome back again. I am going to the camp of the Navajos to see aboutsettling things."
As before, the Pueblos acknowledged his message from afar with a wildanswering shout of assent.
He turned round, picked up his Winchester in a quiet, undemonstrativemanner, and threw it into the hollow of his arm. "Go ahead,Mahletonkwa," said he, "you heard what I said. They will keep still tillI return. Let's go to your camp, you and me."
The redskin likewise stood up with his weapon in his hand. "I've got togive some orders, too," he said, and he began to speak in his owntongue. Much to Stephens's surprise he was answered at once from a fewyards off. The head of a concealed Navajo suddenly appeared from afissure near at hand. Stephens instantly recognised him as theNotalinkwa whom Don Nepomuceno had said was as big a villain as theother. He rapidly calculated in his mind what this might mean. It was,in a measure, evidence that the Navajo chief had not been intending tokeep faith. At any rate, this was proof positive that he had only made apretence of sending his men away while he met Stephens alone; and yetduring their colloquy he had kept this confederate posted within a fewyards of him the whole time. "It's all right," said Mahletonkwa, inanswer to the look of surprise apparent on Stephens's face; "notreachery, no lies. I leave Notalinkwa here to watch for us that yourmen don't advance. Come along. It's all right."
That Mahletonkwa should leave a sentinel now seemed natural enough, andStephens decided promptly to acquiesce. He was in for it now, and hemust play the game boldly, and with unhesitating steps he followed theNavajo chief over the rugged lava to the camp where the prisoner washeld.
The camp lay in a narrow sunken meadow, of a few acres in extent,bordered on either side by the black, forbidding wall of the lava bed.An unknown cause had here divided the lava stream for some hundreds ofyards, leaving the space between unravaged by the desolating flow. Andin the little oasis thus shut off the grass grew rich and green, lookingtenfold brighter from its contrast with the blackened wilderness around.
"What a perfect place for stock-thieves to hide in," thought Stephens ashe beheld it. "Of course these Navajos know every hidden recess likethis in the country." His eyes eagerly scanned the scene for the formthat was the object of his search. Close under the rocks, on the farside, was the group of which he had already caught a glimpse from thepoint where he had had his colloquy with the Indian chief. Yes, it wasindeed her dress he had discerned. There she was, sitting on the groundamid the saddles and horse furniture, the Navajo guards standingwatchfully about in the space between him and her as he and Mahletonkwaapproached. Guns were visible in the hands of most of them, but somecarried only bows. He took note that the latter were strung, and thatbesides the bow two or three arrows were held ready in the fingers ofthe left hand.
But though his swift, wary glance took in every detail, it was to theface of the captive girl that his eyes were most anxiously directed. Ashe approached she sprang to her feet, and with a cry of recognition ranforward to meet him. Some of the Indians put out their hands as if torestrain her, but at a sign from Mahletonkwa they refrained. Hisoutstretched hand met hers in a vigorous clasp.
"You have come," she cried in broken tones, "you have come at last. Andmy father,--is he safe?"
"Yes, he's safe," said the American, "and so are you."