The Trail of The Badger: A Story of the Colorado Border Thirty Years Ago

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER IV

  RACING THE STORM

  Walking over to where the two wolves lay, we soon found the arrow, itshead buried out of sight in the hard ground, showing with what force ithad come from the bow. It was carefully made of a bit of some hard wood,scraped down to the proper diameter, and fitted with threefeathers--eagle feathers, Dick said--one-third as long as the shaft,very neatly bound on with some kind of fine sinew.

  "Looks like a Ute arrow," remarked my companion, as he stooped to pickit up; "yet the man was a Mexican, I am sure. I suppose he must have gotit from the Indians."

  "Do the Utes use copper arrow-heads?" I asked.

  "No, they don't. They use iron or steel nowadays. Why do you ask?"

  "Because this arrow-head is copper," I replied.

  "Why, so it is!" cried Dick, rubbing the soil from the point on histrouser-leg. "That's very odd. I never saw one before. I feel prettysure the Indians never use copper: it is too soft. This bit seems totake an edge pretty well, though. See, the point doesn't seem to havebeen damaged by sticking into the ground; and it has been filed prettysharp, too; or, what is more likely, rubbed sharp on a stone. It hasevidently been made by hand from a piece of native copper."

  "I wonder why the man should choose to use copper," said I. "Though whenyou come to think of it, Dick," I added, "I don't see why it shouldn'tmake a pretty good arrow-head. It is soft metal, of course, but it isonly soft by comparison with other metals. This wedge of copper weighstwo or three ounces, and it is quite hard enough to go through the hideof an animal at twenty or thirty yards' distance when 'fired' with theforce that this one was."

  "That's true. And I expect the explanation is simple enough why the manuses copper. It is probably from necessity and not from choice. Likenearly all Mexicans of the peon class, he probably never has a cent ofmoney in his possession. Consequently, as he can't buy a gun, he uses abow; and for the same reason, being unable to procure iron forarrow-heads, he uses copper. I expect he comes from the settlement atthe foot of the valley, for copper is a very common metal down there."

  "Why should it be more common there than elsewhere?" I asked.

  "Well, that's the question--and a very interesting question, too. Theprofessor and I were down in that neighborhood about a year ago, and ongoing into the village we were a good deal surprised to find that everyhousehold seemed to possess a bowl or a pot or a cup or a dipper or allfour, perhaps, hammered out of native copper--all of them having theappearance of great age. There were dozens of them altogether."

  "How do they get them?" I asked.

  "That's the question again--and the Mexicans themselves don't seem toknow. They say, if you ask them, that they've always had them. And theprofessor did ask them. He went into one house after another andquestioned the people, especially the old people, as to where the coppercame from; but none of them could give him any information. I wonderedwhy he should be so persevering in the matter--though when there isanything he desires to learn, no trouble is too much for him--but afterwe had left the place he explained it all to me, and then I ceased towonder."

  "What was his explanation, then?"

  "He told me that when he was in Santa Fe about fifteen years before, hemade the acquaintance of a Spanish gentleman of the remarkable name ofBlake----"

  "Blake!" I interrupted. "That's a queer name for a Spaniard."

  "Yes," replied Dick. "The professor says he was a descendant of one ofthose Irishmen who fled to the continent in the time of William III, ofEngland, most of them going into the service of the king of France andothers to other countries--Austria and Spain in particular."

  "Well, go ahead. Excuse me for interrupting."

  "Well, this gentleman was engaged in hunting through the old Spanishrecords kept there in Santa Fe, looking up something about the title toa land-grant, I believe, and he told the professor that in the course ofhis search he had frequently come across copies of reports to theSpanish government of shipments of copper from a mine called the KingPhilip mine. That it was a mine of importance was evident from thefrequency and regularity of the 'returns,' which were kept up for anumber of years, until somewhere about the year 1720, if I rememberrightly, they began to become irregular and then suddenly ceasedaltogether."

  "Why?"

  "There was no definite statement as to why; but from the reports itappeared that the miners were much harried by the Indians, sometimes theNavajos and sometimes the Utes, while the loss, partial or total, of twoor three trains with their escorts, seemed to bring matters to a climax.Shipments ceased and the mine was abandoned."

  "That's interesting," said I. "And where was this King Philip mine?"

  "The gentleman could not say. There seemed to be no map or descriptionof any kind among the records; but from casual statements, such as notesof the trains being delayed by floods in this or that creek, or by snowblockades on certain passes, he concluded that the mine was somewhere upin this direction."

  "Well, that is certainly very interesting. And the professor, I suppose,concludes that the Mexicans down there at---- What's the name of theplace?"

  "Hermanos--called so after the two peaks, at the foot of which itstands."

  "The professor concludes, I suppose, that the Mexicans' unusual supplyof copper pots and pans came originally from the King Philip mine."

  "Yes; and I've no doubt they did; though the Mexicans themselves hadnever heard of such a mine. Yet--and it shows how names will stick longafter people have forgotten their origin--yet, just outside the villagethere stands a big, square adobe building, showing four blank walls tothe outside, with a single gateway cut through one of them, flat-roofedand battlemented--a regular fortress--and it is called to this day the_Casa del Rey_:--the King's House. Now, why should it be called theKing's House? The Mexicans have no idea; but to me it seems plainenough. The King Philip mine was probably a royal mine, and theresidence of the king's representative, the storage-place for theproduct of the mine, the headquarters of the soldier escort, wouldnaturally be called the King's House."

  "It seems likely, doesn't it? Is that the professor's opinion?"

  "Yes. He feels sure that the King Philip mine is not far from thevillage; possibly--in fact, probably--in the Dos Hermanos mountains."

  "And did he ever make any attempt to find it?"

  "Not he. Prospecting is altogether out of his line. It was only thehistorical side of the matter that interested him. All he did was towrite to the Senor Blake at Cadiz, in Spain, telling him about it;though whether the letter ever reached its destination he has neverheard."

  "And who lives in the King's House now?" I asked. "Anybody?"

  "Yes. It is occupied by a man named Galvez, the 'padron' of the village,who owns, or claims, all the country down there for five milessquare--the Hermanos Grant. We did not see him when we were there, butfrom what we heard of him, he seems to regard himself as lord ofcreation in those parts, owning not only the land, but the village andthe villagers, too."

  "How so? How can he own the villagers?"

  "Why, it is not an uncommon state of affairs in these remote Mexicansettlements. The padron provides the people with the clothes or thetools or the seed they require on credit, taking security on next year'scrop, and so manages matters as to get them into debt and keep themthere; for they are an improvident lot. In this way they fall into astate of chronic indebtedness, working their land practically for thebenefit of the padron and becoming in effect little better than slaves."

  "I see. A pretty miserable condition for the poor people, isn't it? Anddoesn't this man, Galvez, with his superiorintelligence--presumably--know anything of the King Philip mine?"

  "Apparently not."

  "My word, Dick!" I exclaimed. "What fun it would be to go and hunt forit ourselves, wouldn't it?"

  "Wouldn't it! I've often thought of it before, but I know the professorwould never consent. He would consider it a waste of time. It's an ideaworth keeping in mind, though, at any rate. There's never any tellingwhat may
turn up. We might get the chance somehow; though I confess Idon't see how. But we must be moving, Frank," said he, suddenly changingthe subject. "It's getting latish. Hallo!"

  "What's the matter?" I asked, looking wonderingly at my companion, who,with his hand held up to protect his eyes from the glare, was standing,staring at the sun.

  "Why, the matter is, Frank, that the professor will say that I'veneglected my duty, I'm afraid. You remember he told me to look out for achange of weather? I'd forgotten all about it."

  "Well," said I, "I don't see that that matters. There's no sign of achange, is there?"

  "Yes, there is. Look up there. Do you see a number of tiny specks allhurrying across the face of the sun from north to south?"

  "Yes. What is it?"

  "Snow."

  "Snow!" I cried, incredulously. "How can it be snow, when there isn't ascrap of cloud visible anywhere?"

  "It is snow, all the same," said Dick; "old snow blown from the otherside of Mescalero."

  "But how can that be, Dick? All the snow we found up there was packedlike ice."

  "Ah, but we were on the south side. On the north side, where the sun hasno effect, it is still as loose and as powdery as it was when it fell."

  "Of course. I hadn't thought of that. There must be a pretty stiffbreeze blowing overhead to keep it hung up in the sky like that and notallow a speck of it to fall down here."

  "Yes, it's blowing great guns up there, all right, and I am afraid weshall be getting it ourselves before long. We must dig out of here hotfoot, Frank. I hope we haven't stayed too long as it is."

  It was hard to believe that there was anything to fear from the weather,with the unclouded sun shining down upon us with such power as to bealmost uncomfortably hot; but Dick, I could see, felt uneasy, and as Icould not presume to set up my judgment against his larger experience, Idid not wait to ask any more questions, but set off side by side withhim when he started eastward at a pace which required the saving of allmy breath to keep up with him.

  We had been walking through the woods for about half an hour and wereexpecting to begin the ascent of the Mosby Ridge in a few minutes, whenwe were brought to a standstill by coming suddenly upon the edge of adeep cleft in the earth, cutting across our course at right angles. Itwas one of the many canons for which the Mescalero valley was notorious.

  Looking across the canon, we could see that the opposite wall wascomposed of a thick bed of limestone overlying another of sandstone, thelatter, being the softer, so scooped out that the limestone capprojected several feet beyond it. It appeared to be quite unscalable,and on our side it was doubtless the same, for, on cautiouslyapproaching the edge as near as we dared, we could see that the clifffell sheer for three hundred feet or more.

  "No getting down here!" cried Dick. "Up stream, Frank! The canon willshallow in that direction."

  Away we went again along the edge of the gorge, and presently wererejoiced to find a place where the cliff had broken away, enabling us,with care, to climb down to the bottom. The other side, however,presented no possible chance of getting out, so on we went, following upthe dry bed of the arroyo, looking out sharply for some break by whichwe might climb up, when, on rounding a slight bend, Dick stopped sosuddenly that I, who was close on his heels, bumped up against him.

  "What's the matter, Dick?" I asked. "What are you stopping for?"

  "Look up there at Mescalero," said he.

  It was the first glimpse of the mountain we had had since entering thewoods at the head of the valley, and the change in its appearance wasalarming. The only part of it we could see was the summit, standing outclear and sharp against the sky; all the rest of it, and of the wholerange as well, was shrouded by a heavy gray cloud, which, creeping roundeither side of the peak, was rolling down our side of the range, slowlyand steadily filling up and blotting out each gully and ravine as itcame to it. There was a stealthy, vindictive look about it I did not atall like.

  "Snow, Dick?" I asked.

  "Yes, and lots of it, I'm afraid. See how the cloud comes creepingdown--like cold molasses. I expect it is so heavy with snow that itcan't float in the thin air up there, and the north wind is justshouldering it up over the range from behind. We've got to get out ofhere, Frank, as fast as we can and make the top of the Mosby Ridge, ifpossible, before that cloud catches us. Once on the other side, we'repretty safe: I know the country; but on this side I don't. So, let uswaste no more time--we have none to waste, I can tell you."

  Nor did we waste any, for neither of us had any inclination to linger,but pushing forward once more along the bottom of the canon, wepresently espied a place where we thought we might climb out. Scramblingup the steep slope of shaly detritus, we had come almost to the top,when to our disappointment we found our further progress barred by alittle cliff, not more than eight feet high, but slightly overhanging,and so smooth that there was no hold for either feet or fingers.

  "Up on my shoulders, Frank!" cried my companion, laying down his rifleand leaning his arms against the rock and his head against his arms.

  In two seconds I was standing on his shoulders, but even then I couldnot get any hold for my hands on the smooth, curved, shaly bank whichcapped the limestone. Only a foot out of my reach, however, there grew alittle pine tree, about three inches thick, and whipping off my belt Ilashed at the tree trunk with it. The end of the belt flew round; Icaught it; and having now both ends in my hands I quickly relieved mycompanion of his burden and crawled up out of the ravine.

  Then, buckling the belt to the tree, I took the loose end in one hand,and lying down flat I received and laid aside the two rifles which Dickhanded up to me, one at a time. Dick himself, though, was out of reach,perceiving which, I pulled off my coat, firmly grasped the collar andlet down the other end to him, lying, myself, face downward upon thestones, with the end of the belt held tight in the other hand.

  "All set?" cried Dick; and, "All set!" I shouted in reply. There was aviolent jerk upon the coat, and the next thing, there was Dick himselfkneeling beside me.

  "Well done, old chap!" cried he. "That was a great idea. Now, then,let's be off. I'll carry the two rifles. It's plain sailing now.Straight up the Ridge for those two great rocks that stand up there likea gateway to the pass. I know the place. Only a couple of thousand feetto climb and then we begin to go down-hill. We shall make it now. Comeon!"

  The trees were thin just here, and as we started to ascend the pass weobtained one more glimpse of Mescalero--the last one we were to get thatday. The bank of cloud had advanced about half a mile since we firstcaught sight of it, while it had become so much thicker as the windrolled it up from the other side of the range, that now only the verytip of the mountain showed above it. Even as we watched it, a great foldof the cloud passed over the summit, hiding it altogether.

  "See that, Dick?" said I.

  "Yes," he replied. "A very big snow, I expect. Hark! Do you hear thatfaint humming? The wind in the pines. We shall be getting it soon. Comeon, now; stick close to my heels; if I go too fast, call out."

  Away we went up the pass, pressing forward at the utmost speed I couldstand, desperately anxious to get as far ahead as possible before thestorm should overtake us. The ascent, though very steep on this side,presented no other special difficulty, and at the end of an hour we hadcome close to the two great rocks for which we had been making.

  All this time the sun continued to shine down upon us, though withdiminishing power as the hurrying snowflakes passing above our headsbecame thicker and thicker; while, as to the storm-cloud itself, wecould not see how near it had come, for the pine-clad mountain, risinghigh on our left hand, obstructed our view in that direction. That itwas not far off, though, we were pretty sure, for the humming of thewind in the woods--the only thing by which we could judge--though faintat first, had by this time increased to a roar.

  The storm was, in fact, much nearer than we imagined, and just as wepassed between the "gateway" rocks it burst upon us with a fury and asuddenness that, to me
at least, were appalling.

  Almost as though a door had been slammed in our faces, the light of thesun was cut off, leaving us in twilight gloom, and with a roar like astampede of cattle across a wooden bridge, a swirling, blinding smotherof snow, driven by a furious wind, rushed through the "gateway," takingus full in the face, with such violence that Dick was thrown backagainst me, nearly knocking us both from our feet. Instinctively, wecrouched for shelter behind the rock, and there we waited a minute ortwo to recover breath and collect our senses.

  "Pretty bad," said Dick. "But it might have been worse: it isn't verycold--not yet; we have only about two miles to go, and I know the lay ofthe land. We'll start again as soon as you are ready. I'll go first andyou follow close behind. Whatever you do, don't lose sight of me for aninstant: it won't do to get lost. Hark! Did you hear that?"

  There was a rending crash, as some big tree gave way before the storm.It was a new danger, one I had not thought of before. I lookedapprehensively at my companion.

  "Suppose one of them should fall on us, Dick," said I.

  "Suppose it shouldn't," replied Dick. "That is just as easy to suppose,and a good deal healthier."

  I confess I had been feeling somewhat scared. The sudden gloom, theastonishing fury of the wind, the confusing whirl and rush of the snow,and then from some point unknown the sharp breaking of a tree, soundingin the midst of the universal roar like the crack of a whip--all this,coming all together and so suddenly, was quite enough, I think, to"rattle" a town-bred boy.

  But if panic is catching, so is courage. Dick's prompt and sensibleremark acted like a tonic. Springing to my feet, I cried:

  "You are right, old chap! Come on. Let's step right out at once. I'mready."

  It was most fortunate that Dick knew where he was, for the light was sodim and the snow so thick that we could see but a few paces ahead; whilethe wind, though beating in general against our left cheeks, was itselfuseless as a guide, for, being deflected by the ridges and ravines ofthe mountain, it would every now and then strike us square in the face,stopping us dead, and the next moment leap upon us from behind, sendingme stumbling forward against my leader.

  In spite of its vindictive and ceaseless assaults, though, Dick keptstraight on, his head bent and his cap pulled down over his ears; whileI, following three feet behind, kept him steadily in view. Presently hestopped with a joyful shout.

  "Hurrah, Frank!" he cried. "Look here! Now we are all right. Here's athread to hold on by: as good as a rope to a drowning man."

  The "thread" was a little stream of water, appearing suddenly from Iknow not where, and running off in the direction we were going.

  "This will take us home, Frank!" my companion shouted in my ear. "Itruns down and joins our own creek about a quarter of a mile above thehouse. With this for a guide we are all safe; we mustn't lose it, that'sall. And we won't do that: we'll get into it and walk in the water if wehave to. Best foot foremost, now! All down-hill! Hurrah, for us!"

  Dick's cheerful view of the situation was very encouraging, though, as amatter of fact, it was a pretty desperate struggle we had to get downthe mountain, with the darkness increasing and the snow becoming deeperevery minute. Indeed it was becoming a serious question with me whetherI could keep going much longer, when at the end of the most periloushour I ever went through, we at last came down to the junction of thecreeks, and turning to our right presently caught sight of a lightedwindow.

  Five minutes later we were safe inside the professor's house--and hightime too, for I could not have stood much more of it: I had just aboutreached the end of my tether. But the warmth and rest and above all theassurance of safety quickly had their effect, and very soon I foundmyself seated before the fire consuming with infinite gusto a great bowlof strong, hot soup which Romero had made all ready for us; thuscomfortably winding up the most eventful day of my existence--up to thatmoment.