CHAPTER XVIII.
The attack had ended almost as suddenly as it began. Darkness descendedupon the valley and every vestige of the Apache was gone with thetwilight. Long before time for tattoo the eager watchers in thedown-stream posts could hear muffled hoofbeats and low-toned words ofcommand along the still cautious skirmish line, and Turner came butslowly, first because he could see that there was no occasion forhurry; second, because, with his wounded to protect, there was everyobjection to haste. Between that steadily advancing array and thesefire-spitting heaps of sand toward the post the Indians slid soundlessaway into the gloom of the foothills, and presently shouts of greetingand welcome re-echoed among the rocks, and Turner's men rode sturdilyup to the fords. By ten the last litter had been shouldered through theswift waters and borne to the ready hospital, where Bentley and hisassistants went busily to work. Six of the men and two Hualpai scoutshad been more or less severely wounded, four of them being borne fromTonto Creek on improvised stretchers made from saplings and blankets.Shelter tents, or tentage of any kind, our men had no use for, save assunshades, in Arizona.
And with Turner came the first tidings to reach the beleaguered postsince the couriers were brought in, with their belated tales, from upthe Verde. Turner looked a trifle surprised at the warmth of hisgreeting. Turner had had little idea of their being so closelyinvested. Turner had sent two runners in with reports, and they bothreturned safely, saying, "Almy all right, but plenty Tonto everywhere!"One of them said he gave his despatch to 'Tonio, as he dare go nofarther. One of them brought his back with him, and the third--Hualpai21, he supposed--had finally reached the post, as only two nights sincean Apache-Mohave boy found his way to the Tonto Creek camp with thedespatch recalling the cavalry. They started at dawn, wounded and all;had a long range fight with Tontos toward evening, and another nextmorning, but forged slowly and steadily ahead with only slight loss,and came in sight of the flag and the fracas late the second afternoon.Turner was glad to get back, he said, since it seems he was needed, butwas no sooner back than he was eager to launch out again. Hadn't theyheard? Why, there had been great doings up on the Mogollon. Old GrayFox himself had taken the field and was out with all the horsemen fromWhipple and Sandy, and Stannard had joined them, and they were rippingup the Tonto country in a way that bade fair to wind up the war. Howhad he heard? Why, _runners_--Apache-Mohaves--'Tonio's people.Kwonahelka and some of his ilk had managed to keep going between them,slipping through or skipping round the Tontos like so many "ghostgoats." It was only here, round about Almy, the hostiles were too manyfor them!"
"D'you mean you didn't _know_ the Apache-Mohaves were just as hostileas the rest?" asked Archer.
"Apache-Mohaves!" exclaimed Turner, looking up in amaze from the hotsupper set for him in the mess room. "Why, general, I couldn't have gotalong without 'em!"
"This beats me!" said the chief, looking at the faces about him forsupport, and finding it in every one, for Harris had been remanded tobed. "Up here they have chased our couriers, blocked the runners, and'Tonio himself shot at Willett and killed his horse!"
For a moment Turner was too much surprised to speak. Suddenly he calledto the orderly at the doorway to send his sergeant, who was then at theadjutant's office adjoining. "I beg your pardon, general," he said,"but this seems incredible in view of our experiences. Why, some ofthem joined us and stayed with us day and night." Then as a bearded,sun-blistered face appeared at the doorway, and a sturdy form inhunting shirt of deerskin and long Apache leggings stood attentionbefore them: "Sergeant, send 'Tonio here, and you come with him. Youand he seem to understand each other."
"'Tonio didn't come in, sir, nor the few that were with him. They hungback and quit at the Point."
"Quit! Do you know what's the trouble?"
"No, sir." But the soldier was obviously embarrassed. "I gather,though, from what I could understand, that 'Tonio thinks he'smistrusted. He says he will not come in till Big Chief comes himself.He means General Crook, sir."
There was silence a moment. It was for the post commander to speak ifanybody, and Archer sat studying the veteran trooper before him.Officers of experience knew the value of expert opinion to be had forthe asking among sergeants with war records behind them, and Turner'sright bower, into whose sanctum at barracks only his intimatesventured, save with cap in hand and "sir" on their lips, was a man ofmark in the regiment.
"Sergeant Malloy," said Archer, "did 'Tonio tell you why he wasmistrusted?"
"I think he was trying to, sir, but I am new at his language and nonetoo good at signs."
Again did it seem as though Malloy had understood more readily than hecared to admit, or would presume to say. It was very late. The day hadbeen long and trying. With all its matter-of-fact, nonchalant ease ofmanner during the few hours under fire, the personnel of Camp Almy,officer and man, had been subjected to something of a strain night andday for nearly a week, and now was ready to turn in and sleep, butArcher and those with him were convinced that in Sergeant Malloy therelived a witness who, better even than Lieutenant Harris, could throwlight on 'Tonio's singular and inexplicable behavior. There was not oneof their number who did not believe, and in the absence of Harris wouldhesitate to say, that Willett had seen 'Tonio taking deliberate aimwhen the shot was fired that downed both his horse and himself. Thiswas enough to warrant their doubt of 'Tonio's loyalty. All that waslacking was something to establish a motive--an explanation--for amurderous and treasonable deed. An unwilling witness was SergeantMalloy, therefore the more persistent should be the examination, andafter a moment's reflection Archer spoke again:
"Sergeant, you have formed an impression, I think, and I should be gladto have the benefit of it. Did--he mean that--Lieutenant Harrisdistrusted him?"
"No, sir." On this point the sergeant was confident.
"Did he mention any one--in particular?"
"I gathered that he thought that all the officers of the post, from thegeneral down, with perhaps two exceptions, distrusted him."
"And these two--were?"
"Captain Stannard, sir, and Captain Turner."
"I see," said Archer gravely. "Now, had anything happened--had anythingbeen said or done to account for his--sensitiveness, we will call it?"
Malloy hesitated. "The general understands, I hope, that I am answeringonly as to impressions. I might be mistaken as to his meaning, and hemight have been mistaken as to the meaning of the officer in the case."
"Then there has been a case? When and where?"
There was impressive silence in the dimly lighted mess room as theimpromptu council sat about the table, Turner, with the relics of hishearty supper, at the other end of it. Every man present seemed to feelthat here at last the clew to 'Tonio's double dealing was to be found.The answer came readily enough:
"At Bennett's Ranch, sir, the night it was burnt."
"Why--what happened there?" And Archer was evidently surprised.
"'Tonio said he was insulted before his own people--called aliar--struck with a gauntlet."
"Struck? 'Tonio? A chief, and a son of a chief--of a line of chiefs, infact! Why, what man could have been--mad enough to do that?"
There was just a suspicion of satire, of humor, of possible malice inthe answer, yet every one familiar with the traditions and thevocabulary--the nomenclature--of the old army of the old days, knewwell the sergeant was well within his rights. Respect and regretintermingled were in tone and word as in his answer, all unwittingly,Malloy furnished the missing motive for 'Tonio's crime:
"It wasn't one of the men, sir. It was Lieutenant--Lieutenant Willett."
Then for a moment there was another silence. Bonner, Briggs and Strongexchanged quick glances. Archer's fine, clear-cut face took on a deepershade, then he turned his chair to squarely face the sergeant.
"Did he explain--how it came about?"
"'Tonio said that he wished to go, and ought to go, with LieutenantHarris--the lieutenant was his chief. Lieutenant Willett forbade, as Iunderstand, an
d ordered him to stay, and he had to get LieutenantHarris himself to explain the order before 'Tonio would obey. Then'Tonio says the lieutenant ordered him to do something, I could nottell what. 'Tonio answered by telling Lieutenant Willett not to step onsome moccasin tracks, and the lieutenant surely couldn't haveunderstood him, for he grew very angry and--but, indeed, general, it'smore than I know that I've been telling----"
But Archer had one more question to ask, and asked it, and when it wasanswered the council broke up with no man dissenting from the generalbelief in 'Tonio's attempted, yet baffled, revenge.
"Did 'Tonio tell you of what happened later--of his attempt to shoot atLieutenant Willett?"
"Not a word or sign of that, sir!"
And yet it was 'Tonio's people who kept the faith as to bearingmessages and giving safe conduct to Archer's people in the field. Itwas all past Archer's comprehension and that of the officers present.There was no Gray Fox there who knew Indians as they knew themselves.There was no genial, straightforward "Big Chief Jake," the fearlesssoldier leader from the lower reservation, from Camp Apache and the SanCarlos, the man on whom the Gray Fox leaned, the man whom the hostilesdreaded, the "friendlies" trusted, and all frontiersmen, soldier orcivilian, swore by. They could have fathomed it. Even blunt oldStannard, had he been there, could have thrown some needed light on thevexed and gloomy question. But in all Camp Almy that night there wasonly one officer who, knowing few of these facts, nevertheless knew'Tonio so well, and so repented him of his own brief suspicion, that hewould have called a halt to the order given Captain Turner within thehour--to send Sergeant Malloy, with a dozen men, as soon as the coastwas clear of the hostile Apaches, to run down 'Tonio wherever he mightbe, to secure and bring him in, a prisoner bound, and if he sought toescape, to shoot him dead.