by Charles King
CHAPTER VI.
Barely a mile away to the north-east of the site of old Camp Almy aridge of rock and shale stretches down from the foothills of the BlackMesa and shuts off all view of the rugged, and ofttimes jagged,landscape beyond--all save the peaks and precipitous cliffs of theMogollon, and some of the pine-crested heights that hem the East Fork.Time was, toward the fag end of the Civil War, when the volunteers fromthe "Coast" kept a lookout on the point, a practice that yielded morescalps to the Indians than security to the inmates. The system,therefore, fell into disuse, and the post became unpopular because ofthe mutilated condition in which the pickets were twice found by therelief, and the amount of reliable information received from the pointnever quite paid for the cost. With the disappearance of the Tontos,who were not such fools as their Spanish name implied, the practice ofstationing outlying sentries was dropped. The Tontos seemed to haveabandoned the valley to their distant cousins, the Apache-Mohaves,whose presence there, in small, itinerant parties, was objected to lessby the few scattered settlers than by the one badgered agent at thedistant reservation.
This, at least, was the case at first. Bennett and Sowerby, from aboveCamp Almy, and two others from below, found them friendly andpeaceable. But presently complaints were heard from settlers over atMcDowell, in the Verde Valley to the west, and other settlers away upthe Verde toward Camp Sandy. Then Sowerby swore his stock was run off,and Bennett presently remained the only ranchman to stand up for them.The agent declared them contumacious and tricky. Other whites--Arizonawhite was then a reddish-brown--added their evil word to theofficial's. It was the old adage over again: "Give a dog a bad name,"etc., and the department commander had sent for scouts to coax them in,before despatching troops to enforce their coming, and Harris had foundnobody--nothing but abandoned _rancherias_ and unsavory relics.
And then had come the tidings of a clash--the killing of Comes Flying,son of a chief, and brother to a tribal leader, and then in reprisal,probably, the burning of Bennett's home and the butchery of Bennett.Then Harris had stayed not a moment, but, acting on the understandingof the previous evening, had gone forth at once.
It is well to be prompt, yet oftentimes wise to be prompted. Postcommanders like to be able to say in their reports, "I ordered" this,or "By my direction" that, and Harris had gone at the word of alarmwithout other word with the general.
That Harris was to choose his own time was the understanding betweenthem when they parted, almost affectingly, at night, for between thesnake episode and the successive toddies the good old gentleman wasquite effusive. There would have been, probably, no change in theinstructions had Harris started at reveille or even at dawn. But to"pull out" at midnight, with the situation changed and without anotherword with the commander, was something open to criticism. Moreover,Harris knew it.
But he had two reasons, neither of which might count with a court ofhis peers, but were of mighty account to him. 'Tonio had come to himactually ablaze with indignation. 'Tonio had said his people wereaccused when his people were innocent. 'Tonio had begged that theystart at once, and he would show it was not Apache-Mohaves at fault. Hewould show who were the real raiders, and might even rescue theprisoners. So Harris never hesitated. Leaving a brief note in the handsof Dr. Bentley, he had ridden away with 'Tonio and a dozen of his best,only to be overtaken a mile or so out by the man of all others he leastdesired to see. Hal Willett was the second reason Harris had forwishing to get well away. If ever there came opportunity for a man tostep in, and upon, another man's plans and purposes, Harold Willettcould be relied upon to take it. Harris knew him of old, knewinstinctively that, if a possible thing, his classmate, ever selfishand self-seeking, would rob him of the fruits of his long service withthe scouts, and would not scruple in such an emergency to take over thecommand.
Harris was right. Just as the leaders rounded the huge shoulder ofhillside jutting so boldly to the bank of the stream, and were eagerlypointing to the two distant flames far up in the foothills, Willettcame galloping to his side. "Signal fires, of course!" said he. "It'sjust as I said, and this fellow of yours denied. They're making for theMesa. I'll send back word at once." With that he set to scribbling anote on a page of his scouting book, then again galloped forward,catching Harris and 'Tonio riding side by side.
"Tell 'Tonio to take this straight to General Archer," said he.
Then Harris turned on him:
"I don't recognize your right to order my scouts about, Willett. I need'Tonio here."
"You'll have him again in twenty minutes," was the conciliatory answer."This is by Archer's own order, Harris. I've come straight from hisside. Otherwise I'll interfere with you as little as possible."
And Harris, with one look of distrust in his comrade's flushing face,turned quietly to 'Tonio, said barely ten words to his second, not oneto his senior, then bitterly spurred ahead.
He was not the first man in the profession of arms to realize what itis to faithfully and persistently labor to develop, instruct anddiscipline a body of men until he and they are working in absoluteaccord, all the intricate parts of the human machine nicely adjustedand moving without the faintest friction, and then to find himself atthe eleventh hour set to one side, a stranger to his men and a rival tohimself set in his stead, and be bidden to move on as a sort of martialsecond fiddle, while the credit and reward go to the new first violin.Nor was Harris the last by any manner of means. As General Archer hadhimself been heard to say, "One essential of military preferment is aknowledge of the game of euchre--your neighbor." Couple this with utterindifference to the rights of fellow-soldiers, and a catlike capacityto work by stealth in the dark, and there is no starry altitude towhich one may not aspire. Harris made the same mistake older soldiershad sometimes made in higher commands, that of sticking to their ownmen, and duties, without keeping an eye on, and a friend at,headquarters. Anomalous as it may sound, the absent are ever wrong,even when "present for duty," where they should be. If Harris thatnight had only gone to headquarters instead of his camp; had stopped tosee the general instead of starting promptly to the rescue, there wouldhave been less to tell by way of a story.
Possibly a realization of this had already come over him, as angeringyet unswerving, he once again overtook the eager leaders among hisscouts,--lean, wiry fellows, ever gliding swiftly on in that tirelessApache running walk. Once there again, he kept his broncho at the trotto hold his own, and a broncho trot, after a mile or two of warming up,becomes something besides monotonous. Away to the far front, thenorth-east, flickered the tiny blazes; guiding lights, as Willett wouldhave it; bale fires, as Harris began to believe--fires set byconfederates to blind the eye of the pursuit, or lure pursuers to atrap. Away to the far front, seven miles now, and deep in a nook of thefoothills, lay the site of Bennett's ruined ranch, and thither, at topspeed of his scouts, was the young leader pressing. Not even a dullglow in the heavens above, or a spark on the earth beneath, could thesharp-eyed scouts discover to tell of its lonely fate. Only the dago'shorrified words, only the confirmative symptoms of these farther fires,had these fly-by-night rescuers to warrant their mission. The story hadits probable side. Peaceable as had been the Apache-Mohaves, the factthat a clash had occurred between them and some of the agent'sforces,--a clash in which Comes Flying had been killed,--might readilyturn the scale and send them on the war-path. If so, the first andnearest whites were apt to be the victims. If so, Bennett and hisbeloved wife and boys might well have been murdered in their beds--orspared for a harsher fate. In any event, the first duty--the obviousone--for Harris and his scouts was to reach the spot with all speed;ascertain, if possible, the fate of the ranch folk, then act as theirdiscoveries might direct. All this Harris was turning over in mind ashe hurried ahead. The road, though little worn, was distinct, and nowthat they were out of the bottom and skirting the stony bed of a littlemountain stream, quite firm and dry. Six miles an hour, easily, hisswarthy, half-naked fellows were making without ever "turning a hair."His own lean broncho, long tr
ained to such work, scrambled along inthat odd, short-legged trot, and Harris himself, trained to perfection,hard and dry, all sinewy strength, rode easily along--he could havedone almost as well afoot--at the head of his men, keeping them totheir pace, yet never overdriving.
But with Willett the case was different. For him there had been no hardand dry scouting. It had been wet work in the Columbia country. It hadbeen "hunt-your-hole business" in the lava beds, where the hat thatshowed above the rocks was sure to get punctured. Then the month offeasting in that most lavish of cities, "'Frisco, the Golden," and thefortnight's voyage by sea, with further symposiums, and finally somehours of frontier hospitality at Prescott and at Almy, all had combinedto spoil his condition, and before he had ridden forty minutes HalWillett found himself blown and shaken. He lagged behind to regainbreath, then galloped forward to lose it. He knew that Harris had lefthim in anger and indignation not unjustifiable. He knew he had not fullwarrant for his authority. He knew Harris was entitled to unhamperedcommand, and that he had hampered. Yet, now, believing that Harris waspushing swiftly ahead as much to "shake" him as to reach the scene, heagain dug spurs to his laboring troop horse, and came sputtering overthe loose stones to the young leader's side.
"Harris," he puffed, "this is no way to work your men. They'll be blownwhen you get there, and of no earthly use."
"You don't know them," answered Harris, with exasperating calm, andwithout so much as a symptom of slowing up.
"But--I know how it affects--me,--and I'm no novice at scouting."
"You are to--this sort of thing, anyhow," was the uncompromisinganswer, and then with a cool, comprehensive glance that seemed to takein the entire man, he added, "You're out of training, Willett--the onething a man has to watch out for in Apache work. Better let me leave acouple of men with you, and come on easily. You won't be very farbehind us."
And then, as bad luck would have it, 'Tonio came cantering up from therear, his big, lop-eared mule protesting to the last, and 'Tonio bore alittle folded paper.
He was not versed in cavalry etiquette, this chieftain of the frontier,nor had he learned to read writing as he did men. The two officers atthe moment were side by side, Willett on the right, his chargerplunging and sweating with back set ears and distended nostrils; Harrison the left, his broncho jogging steadily, sturdily on, showing nosymptom of weariness. "To Gran Capitan--Willett" were the general'swords, it seems, when he sent 'Tonio on his way with the note, but in'Tonio's eyes Harris was "Gran Capitan," even though hailed at times as"_Capitan Chiquito_," and to Harris's left 'Tonio urged his mount andsilently held forth the missive.
There was never any question thereafter that it was meant for theother. Archer had his reasons. Willett was there as the aid, therepresentative, of the department commander, charged with an importantduty. Willett had come to him, volunteered to go with the scouts, andhe had bidden him God speed. Willett was the senior in rank as firstlieutenant, promotions in the "Lost and Strayed" having been livelierthan in the "Light Dragoons." Moreover, Willett had shown properdeference to him, the post commander, whereas, Harris, said he, in hisfirst impulsive, self-excusing mood, even though warranted in going,had gone without a word. Sensitive and proud, the veteran of manyfights and many sorrows, ruefully bethinking himself of Harris'sabstinence and his own conviviality, saw fit to imagine Harris guiltyof an intentional slight.
Like noble old Newcombe, the gentlest and humblest-minded of men, "hewas furious if anybody took a liberty with him," and in his suddenrousing and wrath this was what he thought Harris had done. It was tohumble him rather than to exalt Willett that he ignored the one andhailed the other. "To Gran Capitan Willett," he said, and 'Tonio handedthe missive to the one "gran capitan" he knew and served and loved.
And Harris, never noting the pencil scrawl upon the back, proceeded totear it open, when Willett stretched forth his hand:
"I think you will find that is for me, Harris--an answer to what Iwrote," and his words had the distinct ring of authority. Harrisflushed, even in the moonlight; turned it over, read the unsteadycharacters, "Lieutenant Willett, A.D.C.," surrendered it without aword, and a second time drove ahead, while Willett reined up to read.
It was ten minutes before Willett again overtook the pale-faced youngofficer at the front. Harris's mouth looked like a rigid gash, and hisbattered felt was pulled down over a deep-lined forehead, as with sterneyes he turned his head, but never his shoulder, in answer to hisclassmate's imperative call.
"Rein in now, and listen to this, Harris. If you must have it, it's--byorder."
And Harris slowly checked his horse; silently inclined an ear.
"Lieutenant Willett, it says," began the senior, with the sweat rolling into his eyes, "Your despatch received. The fires you mention indicate further hostile parties, 'Tonio insists not Mohaves. If not, must be Tontos. Therefore, move with caution. Stannard just saddling. Use your discretion as to waiting for him.
"ARCHER, Commanding Post."
Then Willett turned. He had begun to refold, but ceased, and held itforth. "Read it yourself, if you like." Harris's gauntlet came up inprotest. He bit his lip hard, but said no word. The scouts were butwhite specks in the distance now. There was sudden cry, low, like thatof the night-bird, and 'Tonio dug his moccasined heels in his lop-earedcharger's ribs and drove out to the front, then turned in saddle,looked back at his chief and pointed. Both officers instantly followed.
The trail led over a low spur, and the scouts had halted and weresquatting at the crest. Straightway before them, possibly four miles, adull red glow lay in the midst of the moonlight, with occasionaltongues of lurid flame lazily lapping at some smouldering upright. Thefire had spent its force; gorged itself on its prey and was sinking tosleep.
"Come on then!" said Harris, speaking for the first time impetuously."If you can't stand the pace let us shove ahead!"
"And run slap into ambush? No. My orders are to move with caution.We've got to _feel_ our way now. Hold your hand, Harris--and your men."
Barely fifty minutes had they been in coming these six miles from Almy.Barely fifty minutes thereafter, and with less than three miles more totheir credit, halted for cautious reconnaissance, with the ruined ranchstill a long mile away, there came sound of feeble hail from a patch ofwillows down by the brookside, and presently, in fearful plight, theydragged forth Bennett's colored man-of-all-work, unharmed, but halfdead with terror. Yes, Indians had suddenly come in the early evening.First warning was from the Maricopa boy who came running from thespring, saying they had killed his brother. Bennett grabbed his gun andran out to see, telling him, Rusty, to take a rifle and hurry with Mrs.Bennett and the children and hide in the willows down the creek. Theyheard firing and yelling, and 'twas all Rusty could do, he said, tokeep Mrs. Bennett from running back to her husband, and the childrenfrom screaming aloud, but he made them go with him still farther downthe valley, down to that patch yonder, and there they lay in hidingwhile the Indians burned the ranch, and seemed hunting everywhere forthem, and at last things quieted down, but Mrs. Bennett was wild andcrazy and crying to go back and find her husband, dead or alive, and hehad to hold her. Just a few minutes ago, not fifteen minutes before,she broke away, and he found it was no use trying. She started to runback, telling him to save her boys. She kissed them both and went, andit wasn't five minutes after that before he heard her scream awfully,and the boys began to cry again, and then--then he saw two Indianscoming running, and he knew they'd got her and were coming for thechildren, so what could he do but run and save himself?
"Lead on where you left them!" ordered Harris instantly, never waitingfor Willett to speak. Ten minutes brought them to the farther shelter,a dense little willow copse, empty and deserted. "Come on to theranch," was the next order, but there Willett interposed.
"Carefully now. Let your scouts open out and feel the way," he ordered,and Harris would not hear. Harris had thrown himself from his horse tolead the search. He never stopped to remount. He ra
n like a deer up thestony creek bed until he regained the road, his scouts followingpell-mell, and in ten minutes more they found him bending over thelifeless body of brave, sturdy Jack Bennett, weltering in his blood atthe side of the spring house, and with no sign of the hapless, helplesswife and mother anywhere.
"By God, Hal Willett!" cried Harris, as he sprang to his feet, alldignity and deliberation thrown to the winds. "You may 'proceed withcaution' all you damned please. 'Tonio and I go after that poor womanand her children. We'd have saved them _here_ if it hadn't been foryou!"