CHAPTER VIII.
THE CAPTAIN'S RIDE.
It is high time now that we should hear something of Captain Gwynnehimself, and leave for the time our little garrison in the cave atSunset Pass. Let us follow the movements of the father for whom thechildren were so anxiously and tearfully praying.
Galloping away on Pike's horse in close pursuit, as he supposed, ofManuelito and the mules, the captain had turned south the moment hecleared the rocky buttresses that formed the western gateway to thePass. He had reasoned that the Mexican would not dare go back along theroad on which they came, because in so doing he must infallibly runstraight into the Apaches, who were following in pursuit. Knowing, asdid Pike, that Manuelito was well acquainted with the short cut throughthe mountains down to the valley of the Verde, miles to the south of thewinding and roundabout way on which they were compelled to come by road;knowing, too, that this trail was far to the south of where they hadseen the Indians' signal fires,--Gwynne's whole idea seemed to be thatManuelito would take the shortest line to reach that rough but easilyknown trail. He did not hesitate, then, a moment in turning short to thesouth, and riding confidently along to the western foothills, expectingevery moment to hear the bray of the mules or the sound of their hoofbeats. He knew that the moment these creatures heard the hoof beats ofhis own horse, they would be almost sure to signal. Just what to do withManuelito himself, he had not yet determined; but it was his purpose toforce him back to camp at the point of the pistol, if necessary; then tobind him to the wagon; make him drive, at least until they reached FortWingate over in New Mexico beyond the Navajo Reservation, and turn himover there to the military authorities for such disposition as theymight choose to make of him. Of course, he would have no furtheremployment in Arizona, for his character was blasted forever. Mile aftermile, however, the captain rode without hearing one of the anticipatedsounds, and the further he rode the lighter it grew. Far down, to thesouth, now, he could dimly see objects that looked like four-footedcreatures, moving rapidly. Unluckily, he had with him only a light,short-ranged pair of glasses, and he could not distinctly make out whatthey were; but believing that they could be nothing but Manuelito andthe mules, he put spurs to his weary horse, and pushed rapidly inpursuit--wondering, however, how it was that the Mexican, with theslow-moving mules, could have got so far to the front. Five milesfurther he rode and by that time the sun was up above the mountains ofNew Mexico, over to the east, and lighting up the whole plateau to hisright. By this time, too, the objects, of which he had been in pursuit,had totally disappeared from his sight, and looking around him he couldsee nowhere sign of hoof or any trail that would indicate that the muleshad come that way. However, as he might be anywhere from ten yards toten miles from the exact line Manuelito traveled, this gave him noconcern. He decided that he would push on until he came upon the cavalrytrail up which he had ridden a year before on an expedition with theirgood guide Sieber to Chevelon Fork. By this time, too, he knew that hemust be twelve miles from camp, and that in all probability the Indianshad left their position west of Snow Lake, and were already coming inpursuit. He dreaded to think of the peril in which his children mightbe; but he had every confidence in Pike; he believed in Jim's pluck andfighting qualities, and he reasoned that it would be one or two o'clockbefore the Indians could possibly reach the Pass, and that he couldeasily get back long before that time. Riding, therefore, still furtherto the south, he pursued his search for an hour longer, and then camesuddenly upon a sight that thrilled his heart with hope and joy. Rightbefore him, coming across the southern edge of the plateau, and windingup the mountains to the left, was an unmistakable cavalry trail, notmore than a day or two old. Evidently some troop was out from Verde andhad taken the old short cut to Chevelon Fork, expecting by that route tomake the quickest time to the Sunset crossing of the Colorado River. Inall probability this was one of the troops coming out in search of andto succor him and his party. Reining his jaded horse to the left, thecaptain rapidly followed on the trail. He reasoned that the four-footedcreatures that he took to be the mules were in all probability a portionof the pack-train of the troop that had so recently passed along, or itmight be one or two troopers who had been making scouts to the right orto the left of the trail, and were now following the main body. Allthought of pursuing Manuelito further was abandoned. His sole object wasto overtake, as quickly as possible, the little command of cavalry thathe knew to be in his path, and then to guide them by the shortest lineback to Sunset Pass, and to the defence of the dear ones there awaitinghim. If he had good luck, he might catch them before they had gone manymiles. The trail he knew would speedily lead him over into the valley ofChevelon Fork, and following this they would emerge on the east side ofthe mountain. Perhaps it might be fortunate that he did not overtakethem until they were east of the range; for the Apaches would certainlynot expect the cavalry to come from the Colorado side of the mountain;but would be looking for them from the west, and the chances, therefore,would be all the more in favor of their dealing them a crushing blow,and punishing them as they deserved for their assault on defenselesswomen and children.
On, on he rode, urging his horse as rapidly as it was possible for himto go over the rocky, broken trail. Two hours' ride brought him nonearer, apparently, to the comrades he was pursuing. Three hours' ridebrought him down into the valley of Chevelon Fork and half way throughthe range. It was not until one o'clock that he found himself at such apoint that he could look forward and see part of the country toward theColorado Chiquito; but not a vestige of the cavalry or pack-train wasanywhere in sight, and his horse was now so weary that he could onlyanswer with a groan the touch of the spur, and could not by anypossibility accelerate his speed. Two o'clock came, and the anxiousfather found himself, he knew not how many miles away from SunsetPass,--away from the children so anxiously praying for him, and awaitinghis coming.
He was growing faint from long fasting, and the horse was so jaded thatthe captain dismounted and was fairly towing him along behind him withthe bridle rein. In this way they had slowly and painfully climbed asteep and rocky ascent where the trail seemed to make a short cut acrossa deep bend of the stream, and reaching the summit they stopped to rest,panting hard with fatigue. Again the captain resorted to his littleglasses and looked long and eagerly over the broad stretch of country tothe east, but it was all in vain. No living creatures were in sight.
Directly in front, the trail wound downwards over an incline so steepthat it looked as though horses and mules could never have made thosehoof tracks, but that only goats could have gone that way. The poor oldbay looked piteously at his master as though imploring him not to forcehim to undertake that steep descent, but Gwynne could show no mercy now.He had come too far to turn back. His only hope, if he could not findthe scouting party, was to make his way along the east side of the rangeback to the little camp in Sunset Pass. He prayed God to watch over andprotect his little ones, and then, with almost a sob rising to histhroat, he tried to speak cheerfully to poor "Mac;" he patted thedrooping head of his faithful old servitor and, calling to him tofollow, he pressed forward, and half sliding, half stepping, he beganthe steep descent. The poor horse braced his fore feet and stiffened hisknees and came skating over the loose slate after him. All wenttolerably well until they were about two hundred feet from the rushingwaters of the fork, foaming and swirling over the rocks below, andthere, coming upon a sharp point around which they had to make theirway, Gwynne had taken only three or four steps downward and was about toturn and speak encouragingly again to "Mac," when the horse's fore feetseemed to shoot from under him; he rallied, gathered himself, stumbled,and then, plunging heavily forward, crashed down upon his master, rolledcompletely over him, and then went sliding and pawing desperately to theedge of the rocky precipice, over which he shot, a huge, living bowlderand fell with a thud upon the jagged rocks below. For some minutesGwynne lay where he had been hurled, stunned and senseless; then heslowly revived, found that his left arm was severely wrenched andbru
ised, and that the blood was streaming from a long gash in hisforehead. Slowly and painfully he made his way to the foot of the steep,bathed his head in the cool waters and bound it up as well as he couldwith his big silk handkerchief. He was fainter, weaker now, than he hadbeen before, but never for an instant could he forget the little ones atthe Pass.
"Oh, God help me and bring me back to them in time," he prayed; andthen, holding his maimed left arm in his right hand, and with onebackward look up the canon at the now lifeless carcass of poor "Mac," hestaggered wearily on, following the trail of the cavalry.
WITH ONE BACKWARD LOOK HE STAGGERED WEARILY ON.]
Late that evening, just as darkness was settling down over the valley ofthe Colorado Chiquito, the soldiers of a little detachment, chattinggleefully around their bivouac fires and sipping their fragrant coffee,were startled by the sudden sight of a man with ghastly, blood-stainedfeatures and dress, who reeled blindly into their midst and then fellforward upon his face, to all appearances dead.
Some of them, believing Indians to be upon them, sprang for their arms;others bent to the aid of the stricken man. They turned him over on hisback, brought water and bathed the blood from his face, and then asergeant cried:
"My God! What can have happened? It's Captain Gwynne! Here, Murphy, callthe lieutenant, quick!"
"MY GOD! WHAT CAN HAVE HAPPENED? IT'S CAPTAIN GWYNNE!"]
In an instant the young officer commanding the party came running to thescene and bent breathlessly over the senseless form.
"It is Captain Gwynne," he said; "bring more water. Go to my pack, oneof you, and get the sponge you'll find there. Fetch me my flask, too.Which way did he come? Did none of you see?"
"None, sir. The first we knew he was right over us. He never spoke aword, but fell like a log."
And then the rough-looking, bearded, anxious faces hovered about theprostrate man. His heart-beats were so faint that the young officer wasterribly alarmed. No surgeon was with the little party and he hardlyknew what to do. The whiskey forced down Gwynne's throat seemedpowerless to revive him. Full an hour he lay almost motionless, thenlittle by little the pulse grew firmer and respiration audible. At lastthere was a long, deep sigh, but still he did not open his eyes.Consciousness returned only very slowly, and when Mr. Hunter had calledhim by name time and again and begged him to speak, he sighed even moredeeply than before, the lids slowly drew back, and the almost sightlesseyes looked feebly around. Then, with sudden flash of memory, the poorcaptain strove to rise. "My babies!" he moaned; "my babies!"
"Where did you leave them, captain? Tell us. I'll send for theminstantly," said Hunter. "Sergeant, saddle up right off. This meanssomething."
More whiskey, a long draught, and more cold water, presently revived himso that he could speak collectedly.
"I left them with Pike--in the Pass. My Mexican ran away with themules--followed and found your trail--my horse fell on me and thenrolled over a precipice--killed. I've come on foot ever since."
"Thank God, you're here safe anyhow! Now lie still. I'll leave a guardwith you and we'll go as fast as we can through the darkness and findNed and Nellie."
"No! no! I must go. I will go, too. See, I can stand. Give me a horse."
And so, finding him determined and rapidly regaining strength, Huntermade the captain eat all he could bear to swallow then, and, stowingmore food in their saddle bags, away went the gallant little troophurrying through the starlit night for Sunset Pass and rescue.
But the way was long; road or trail there was none. Over rugged height,through deep ravine, they forced their way, but not until all the skywas blushing in the east did they come to the old Wingate road, and thegloomy entrance to the Pass. Up they rode at a steady trot, Gwynne andHunter leading, and, at a sudden turn of the road, far in towards thewestern side, their horses recoiled, snorting with fear, from a heap ofsmouldering embers, in the midst of which lay a fearful something,--thecharred and hissing body of a human being. Gwynne groaned aloud at thesight and then drove his horse up a rocky pathway to the left, theothers following. There lay the smoking ruins of an ambulance withscraps of clothing heaped about on every side, and here the strickenfather's waning strength left him entirely. With one heartbroken cry,"My babies--my little ones. They are gone! gone!" he was only saved fromfalling by the prompt action of two stalwart troopers.
In ten minutes, supporting the fainting soldier as best they could, thedetachment was marching rapidly westward.
"Sieber with the scouts can't be farther away than Jarvis Pass. We'llmeet him," said Hunter to his sergeant, "and trail these Scoundrels totheir holes."
His words were true. Before ten o'clock they had met, not only Sieber,but Turner's troop from Verde, coming full tilt, and Gwynne was nowturned over to the doctor's care.