Tonio, Son of the Sierras: A Story of the Apache War

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XVII.

  As was to be expected, Lieutenant Harris was somewhat worse when timecame for inspection Sunday morning, but Bentley said complete restwould soon restore him. The other interesting invalid, LieutenantWillett, was correspondingly better, and was to sit up awhile later inthe day. Inspection was held under arms and in fighting kit instead offull dress--the two companies looking like a pair of scanty platoons,so heavy was the drain for guard duty. From earliest dawn lookouts hadbeen stationed on top of the adjutant's office at the south, and thehospital at the north edge of the parade, Bucketts having built forthem a little wooden platform, with bench, shelf and sunshade, andthere, with signal-service glasses, they scoured the barren wilds inevery direction for sign of coming friend or foe.

  It was eleven o'clock when Bentley came forth with Mrs. Stannard fromhis morning visit to Willett. "Oh, he's doing as well as an overfed,under-trained animal has any right to," said he, in response to theinquiry in her soft blue eyes. "I still think some men have too muchluck in this world of ours. Here's Willett, who doesn't begin todeserve it, getting everything that is good, and Harris, who deservesall the good that the army affords, gets all the hard knocks andsetbacks. Here's Willett swearing that 'Tonio's a renegade, hostile,spy and a traitor, and Harris convinced that he is stanch andloyal--that Willett must be mistaken in saying he shot at him, andthough everything I know of the Apaches or ever heard, and every bit ofevidence is overwhelmingly in favor of Willett's statement, just fromwhat I've seen of these two men I'm deciding with Harris."

  "You don't--feel confidence in Mr. Willett's--judgment?" she asked.

  For a moment he hesitated, then turned and squarely faced her. "I don'tfeel confidence in Mr. Willett. There, Mrs. Stannard! There are not tenwomen in the army to whom I'd trust myself to speak of this--or fivewomen out of it--but I am not happy over the way things are going."

  "Don't you think he'll--learn to appreciate her?"

  "He shouldn't _have_ to learn! He should see it all at a glance, andthank God for the unmerited blessing."

  "Perhaps he does," said she, ever gentle, helpful, hopeful. "It islovely the way he speaks to her--and I'm quite eager to see them thisafternoon."

  What woman would not be? What man would not have been at his best atsuch a time, under such circumstances? The realization that he had wonthe fervent love of that fresh, pure, exquisite young heart was enoughto thrill even a nature so utterly selfish as Willett's. It is theshallowest soul that most readily thrills, and what could be sweeterthan the shy, yet rapturous love in the downcast eyes of Lilian Archer,when, as he had implored her mother, she was led that afternoon to thedarkened room in which he sat, and, like knight of old, he took andbent over and kissed her trembling little hand. "I would kneel, too,"he murmured, even as her mother stood beside her, with swimming eyes,and as he looked up into the blushing face his own eyes were filledwith unfeigned homage, admiration, even love, his deep voice withemotion that was sweet to woman's ear. "Heaven never made a lovelierlover than Hal Willett," once said a famous belle and beauty. "That'swhy so many of us like to listen."

  But these earnest, honest, inexperienced two--the whole-hearted armywife who had lived well-nigh quarter of a century in the undividedsunshine of an honest soldier's love, and this sweet, simple-heartedarmy girl who had never dreamed of or thought to know any love tocompare with this--listened, spellbound, to Willett's almost eloquentavowal, and the last doubt or fear that Mrs. Archer entertainedvanished like the morning mists before the sunshine.

  "I declare," she said to Mrs. Stannard, "I'm almost as much in love asLilian," and indeed it seemed so, and might well be so, for never wasqueen's courtier so exquisite in deference, homage, tact, as, in thatblissful week of honeymooning, was Hal Willett to the mother of hisdainty love. As for Lilian, the arid, breezeless day was soft withscented zephyrs; the unpeopled air was athrill with the melody ofcountless song birds; the unsightly desert flowered with exquisitemillions of buds and blossoms that craved the caress of her daintyhand, the pressure of her pretty foot. The sunburned square of thelonely little garrison, environed with swarthy foemen, cut off from theworld, was alive with heroic knights in glittering armor and ladies inlace and loveliness, and all were her loyal, devoted subjects,revelling in her happiness, rejoicing in her smiles, serving her inhomage and on bended knee, their thrice-blessed, beautiful, belovedqueen. God never made a more radiantly happy girl than was our fairyLilian that wonderful week. God be thanked it was so utterly blissful,since it had to be so brief!

  All day long the watchmen clung to their glaring stations, and Sundaywent by without either alarm or excursion. All Sunday--Monday night,they scanned the dark depths of eastward basin, the lone reaches of thevalley, the tumbling heights to the west. It was nine in the morning ofthe second day since the signalling from Squadron Peak when the crywent up from the roof of the office, "Signal smoke south-east!" andevery glass at Almy was brought to bear within the minute, and half thegarrison lined the lower edge of the mesa, and all men were listeningfor further tidings, when from the hospital came the stirring shout:"Smoke answer, west!" And there, plainly visible, and not five milesaway among the pine-bearded foothills, in little puffs, singly anddistinct, thick wreaths of gray-white smoke were sailing straightaloft. The waiting Apache of the Mazatzal was signalling the comingbrother from the dark clefts of the Sierra Ancha. One hour later, justas ten was striking on the spiral of the office clock, two sudden shotswere heard on the flats to the north-west, and the little herd ofhorses and mules, not two dozen in all, grazing under cover of therifles of Sentries 3 and 4, came limping, lumbering in, fast as hoppledfeet would permit and without sign of a herdsman. Number Three, aveteran of the war days, let drive with his fifty calibre Springfield,the gun of the day, and sent up a yell for "The Guard!"

  "Join your companies, men," said the general, in his placid way,whereat most of them went with a rush. "The north side first, Bonner,"he added, as the captain came hurrying to his chief. "They've sneakedup on the herd guard, I fancy. Send the picked shots out to the pits."

  Out on the flats to the west of the Verde road, full five hundred yardsaway from rock, tree or shelter, other than mere clump of cactus,pumpkin size, or bunch of dirty weed, there was lying a little heap ofdingy white and brown, with a cow pony kicking at empty air in ashallow ditch--what was left of the half-breed herd guard and hismount. With most of the cavalry gone, the quartermaster had suppliedtheir place with such mounted men as he could make available, and inbroad daylight, within long rifle-shot of the sentry lines, the Apacheshad squirmed out, snake-like, on their bellies, unseen, unsuspected;had picked off one of two watchers and stampeded the other. Theskirmish line stumbled over the survivor, quaking among the willows inthe stream bed, and kicked him out into the open to help bear home hismurdered brother; then pushed out as far as the first ridge in hopes ofa shot, and were rewarded with nothing better than a glimpse ofvanishing breech-clouts. Falling slowly back, toward noon, Bonnerposted two men in each of a dozen rifle-pits, some fifty yards outsidethe sentry lines, as a rule, and wherever view of the approaches couldbe had. Two of these were on little knolls to the south of the store,and here were Craney & Co. in full force, every man armed with a Henryrifle and a war-model Colt, "Mr. Case-Keeper Book," as Sergeant Clancyjovially hailed him, quite as formidable as his fellows, and every whitas cool. Craney held that he and his men had a right to be counted inamong those told off to hold the fort, and Bonner smilingly assented.

  "You two seem to hit it off pretty well together," said he to Case andClancy. "I reckon we'll Cossack you over yonder," and he pointed to ascooped-out little hummock nearest the stream, commanding much of thesouthward road and the trail along the willows, now facetiously termedthe "Ghost Walk." It was an unusual assignment, or distribution, but itseemed to strike the fancy of both. In times of peril and at thefore-posts men think less of rank and more of repute. Clancy was knownfar and wide as a fearless Apache fighter, with a Gaines'sMill-Gettysburg record behind
him. Case had never before been heard ofafield, but his one exploit in the card room stamped him unerringly,said these frontier experts, as "a man of nerve." Clancy held out hisbig red hand. "Are ye with me?" said he. "Yours truly," said Case."Then come on, Pitkeeper," said Clancy, "and we'll leave Book and Casebehind."

  The general came jogging down at the moment, bestriding one ofBucketts's general utility beasts, watching the posting of the postdefenders, and he screwed his eyelids down to a slit as he glared fromunder the brim of his then unorthodox slouch hat, and squinted afterthe combination of soldier and civilian stalking away to the assignedstation. "What have you there, Bonner?" he asked, as he reined in.

  "'Erin go unum, E pluribus bragh,' sir, as Derby would have it." "TheCelt and the Casekeeper," he added to himself. "Clancy and Case goinggunning together as amicably as if they had never squabbled over asutler's bill."

  "Queer lot--that man Case!" said the commanding officer reflectively."His face bothers me sometimes, as though I must have seen or known himbefore, yet he tells me that he did not come to Vancouver until after Ihad left that department. Is he all straight again?"

  "Straight as the new toadsticker, general, and"--with a rueful look atthat slender appendage--"a damned sight more useful. His ghost-herdingspree was no end important. I've an idea Case can handle a gun as wellas"--another _sotto voce_ now--"he can play a worthless hand."

  "Well," said Archer, as he glanced about him, "I don't believe, as arule, in putting any but soldiers on post, but," as he considered theslender rank of infantry standing patiently at ease, barely a dozen alltold, and then smiled at Craney and his belligerent force, only four innumber, but each man a walking arsenal with two weapons and five shotsto the soldiers' one, "there are no non-combatants in Indian warfare.Every man, woman and child may have to fight."

  Yet Archer felt no measure whatever of apprehension. One hundred goodmen and true, at least, were left to guard the post, and many of thembattle-tried veterans. Not since the war days had the Apaches musteredin sufficient force and daring to attack a garrison. Still, Archer knewthat if they only realized their strength in point of numbers, theirskill in creeping close to their prey, their swiftness of foot, and theease with which they could escape, all they needed was dash,determination and a leader, to enable them to creep upon the post inthe darkness, and in one terrific moment swoop upon the officers'quarters, massacre every soul, and be off across the stream before themen in the barracks could rush to the rescue. They had talked it overat officers' mess--the general and Bonner and Bucketts and all, andfigured out just how fifty white desperadoes could plan and accomplishthe feat. It would be no trick at all to come up the valley in thescreen of the willows, creep to the west bank, divide into sixdifferent squads, one for each set of quarters, crawl to the post ofthe drowsy sentry, shoot him full of arrows before he could cry out orload, then, all together, charge up the slope and into the flimsyhouses, pistols in hand and knives in their teeth, and simply butcherthe occupants as they lay in their beds. Doors, even if closed orbolted, which rarely happened, could be smashed in an instant--matcheswould light their way. It would be all over in much less time than ittakes to tell it, and it might well happen but for two things--theApache's dread of the dark and his fear of a possible hand-to-handfight.

  Yet if Deltchay and Eskiminzin, with all their warriors were toreeforce these about them, with five hundred braves to the garrison'sone hundred, even that dread might be overcome.

  And by Monday's sundown it was known that numbers of Apaches hadcrossed the valley ten miles away to the south--the telescope had toldthat--and not a word or sign had been vouchsafed by Turner, and Tuesdaybrought no better news. Then 'Tonio, said many a man, had played themfalse.

  Just at four o'clock Archer had arranged the dispositions for thenight. Mrs. Stannard, with Mrs. Archer and Lilian, were to occupy theground floor, north-west, room of his quarters--the one least exposedto flying bullets in case of attack. Mrs. Bennett and the matron weremoved into a little room in the hospital. The soldiers' wives andchildren were to assemble in the barracks in case of alarm. The men inthe outlying posts and pits were to be doubled at dusk--Bonner'scompany attending to that, while Briggs and his fellows were to sleepon their arms within the post. It now lacked but a few minutes ofsunset. No further demonstration had occurred. Not an Indian had beenseen within a radius of six miles, when, all on a sudden, there came ashot--then two, almost together, then a quick crackle and sputter ofsmall-arms afar down the stream. "By Jove!" cried Bonner, from a perchby the lookout at the office. "They've opened on Case and Clancy!"

  "They've opened on Case and Clancy." Page 188]

  And that was but the opening, for within a minute, from on every side,from far out among the rocks to the west, from the sandhills across thestream, from little heaps of brush and weed and cactus in the flats,from the distant screen of the willows in the stream bed, little puffsof white sulphur smoke jutted into the slanting sunshine, and thepulseless air of declining day was suddenly set to stir and throb bythe crackle of encircling musketry. And then was seen the wisdom of theveteran's defence. Few of the hostiles, as yet, had other thanold-fashioned muzzle-loading rifles, and few that they owned wereeffective over six hundred yards. By stationing his better shots inrifle pits well forward from the buildings on every side, Archer easilyheld the foe at a distance so long as they dare not "rush" hisoutposts. Only on the east side were there pits less than three hundredyards from the mesa, but here there was a dismal flat beyond the creek,affording a minimum of cover, and hardly a bullet whistled in from anydirection so as to reach the quarters. Once in a while a little puff ofdust flew up from the sandy slope without, but even that was enough todemand that the women folk should keep under shelter, and at the momentthe firing began Lilian and her mother were seated by Willett'sreclining chair, and then Mrs. Stannard joined them, and, the windowsbeing shaded, they never saw, among the first to reach the general atthe mesa edge, Harris, the wounded officer, revolver in his unfetteredhand.

  The first volleying over, only in single and scattered shots, as theyreloaded, came the Indian fire. If the hope had been to strike dismaywith a volume of sound such as native ears had not heard, the Apachewas doomed to disappointment. Men who had heard the crash ofSpottsylvania and Cold Harbor laughed at the puny crackle of twohundred muskets. Then presently the Springfields began deliberatereply, only an occasional shot, for only very rarely did so much as thetip of a turban appear, and then the sun had dropped below the Mazatzaland the valley was in shadow, and old Archer stood with grim, whimsicalsmile on his weather-beaten face, as, field-glass to his eyes, hescanned his outposts at the south where the firing seemed heaviest. Itwas a moment or two before he noticed Harris at all. When he did it wasto utter a mild rebuke. "You should not be here, lad. You need rest.This is only fun."

  Yet not all fun. Strong came presently thumping back from beyond thestore. He had borrowed Craney's Pinto pony and had been visiting thesouthward posts, and Pinto had been clipped by a bullet and was halffrantic with the smart and scare combined. Moreover, Strong's fightingface was red and mad, as he thrashed the lagging pony up the slope.

  "It's Deltchay, sir, easy enough," said he, with sweeping salute, "andthat isn't all"--this with almost challenging glance at Harris, who haddropped his pistol and was gazing intently through his binocular at anopen, slanting space far out to the south-east, still blazing in therays of the setting sun. "The man of all others that oughtn't to bethere stood at that point of rocks not ten minutes ago--the man we sentfor Turner, general--'Tonio himself!"

  Then both men, the gray-mustached commander, the angering adjutant,turned on the silent little subaltern, who stood there without havingso much as changed his attitude or lowered his glass.

  "You hear that, Harris?" demanded Archer. And with calm respect, yetalmost exasperating drawl, came the unlooked-for answer:

  "I was about to mention it--myself, sir. 'Tonio was certainlythere--and Turner close behind him. Look for yourself, si
r!"

  Look, indeed! Riding steadily down into the valley, still a long fourmiles away, came the extended line of half a cavalry troop in skirmishorder, with the supports and reserves dotting the slope to their rear."Turner, as sure as shooting," said the general--"and 'Tonio as hisguide!"