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

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE START

  The delight with which this announcement was received by us two boys maybe imagined, for though we had hoped for such a decision we had notdared to expect it. I, for my part, had feared that the matter of myinterrupted education alone would form an insurmountable barrier; andindeed it was that subject which had proved the chief obstacle, as UncleTom presently informed me. All the other objections were minor ones andwe discreetly refrained from asking for their recapitulation lest, ingoing over them again, something not thought of before should crop up tointerfere. We were quite content to accept the decision without knowinghow it had been arrived at.

  As to my interrupted schooling, though, that was a serious matter, asUncle Tom, in spite of his original ideas about education, clearlyunderstood.

  "The main question with me, you see, Frank," said he, "was whether youwould benefit or otherwise by missing so much schooling, and though Ibelieve pretty strongly in the value of learning by practice andexperience, I should have felt obliged to decide against this expeditionif the professor had not come to the rescue. It is to him you owe ourdecision to let you boys go."

  I looked gratefully at Herr Bergen, who serenely waved the stem of hispipe in our direction, though whether to intimate that the obligationwas nothing to speak of, or as a sign to Uncle Tom to go on, I could notdecide.

  "I find," continued the latter, "that the winter is Dick's school-time;and the professor has offered to take you in, Frank, and let you sharein Dick's work, undertaking to bring you on in your mathematics inparticular--which is your weak spot, you know. In the spring, when thesnow clears off, you are to start for the Dos Hermanos and make athorough search for this old copper mine; and as you will be doing it onmy account, I shall bear all expenses. There, that is all, except--well,it is not necessary to mention that--but I was going to say that I relyon you, old fellow, to make the most of your opportunity and in your ownperson to prove the correctness of my theory that a boy may sometimeslearn more out of school than in it."

  "I believe you may count on me, Uncle Tom," said I. "I'll do my levelbest. And I'm tremendously obliged to you, Herr Bergen----"

  "Not at all," interrupted the professor, "not at all. The fact is, I amvery glad to have a companion for Dick; and as to the schooling, theobligation is not all on one side by any means, for to me it is one ofthe greatest pleasures possible to teach a boy who really desires tolearn. I anticipate a most pleasant winter."

  Thus was this odd arrangement made by which I, who by right should havebeen attending a public school in St. Louis, became the private pupil ofan eminent German professor, pursuing my studies in a little log cabintucked away in a snow-encumbered valley of the Rocky Mountains--about asqueer a piece of topsyturviness, to my notion, as ever happened to aboy, and one very unlikely to happen to any other boy, unless he chancedto be endowed with an Uncle Tom cut out on the same pattern as mine.

  "There's one thing, Frank," said my guardian, as we made our way down tocamp later in the day, "there's one thing I didn't mention in Dick'spresence, and that is that the professor laid great stress on thepleasure and advantage it would be to Dick to have a companion of hisown age for once, and it was that which turned the balance withme--after the educational question had been got out of the way. For Iowe Dick a good turn if I can do him one without hurting anybody else; Itold him I wouldn't forget his service in coming down through the stormyesterday, and I haven't forgotten. I'm uncommonly glad to think that inconsenting to your taking part in this expedition--which I believe willbe a great thing for you, mentally as well as bodily--we shall be doinga service to Dick and to the old professor at the same time."

  "Well, Uncle Tom," said I, "you may be sure I am glad enough to stay,and I hope it will not only prove a good thing for Dick and me, but foryou as well."

  "I hope so, too. And it will, if you can locate that old copper mine,and if it should prove to be anywhere near as good as it sounds."

  As things turned out, I was destined to begin my winter's schoolingsomewhat earlier than we had expected, for, five days after the storm,Uncle Tom received from his Boston employers a telegram, forwarded bymail from the end of the line, saying, "Come here at once. Important,"when, without demur, he forthwith packed up his things and away he went;while I, taking leave of our kind host, the assayer, moved up to HerrBergen's house.

  I need not go into the details of our daily life on Mosby Creek; it isenough to say that the winter was one of the pleasantest I had everspent. Time flew by, as was only natural, for there was not an idlemoment for either of us. Herr Bergen proved to be a most ableinstructor, not only in the matter of scholarship but in generaltraining as well. He had served in the German army in his younger days,and the habits of orderliness, precision and promptness remained withhim. We boys were made to toe the mark, and no mistake; there was a timefor work and a time for play, and whether for duty or pleasure, we hadto be on hand to the minute.

  I do not wish to imply that the professor was harsh, or anything of thesort; very far from it: he was most considerate of our shortcomings,which were doubtless plentiful enough, and with infinite patience wouldgo over the ground again and again whenever Dick or I got ourselvestangled up; a condition of things which happened on the average aboutonce a day to each of us. Then, every marked advance we made in any ofour studies was so obviously gratifying to the kindly old gentleman thatthat fact alone was enough to spur a fellow on to doing his extra-best.As a consequence, I, for my part, made very notable progress, and it waswith great pleasure, as you may suppose, that I was able later on towrite to Uncle Tom my conviction that I had gained rather than lost bymy winter's work.

  One thing, at least, which I should not have acquired in school, Igained by my association with the professor's household: I learned tospeak Spanish. Herr Bergen made a great point of it that I should do so,as it would be pretty sure to come in useful during the ensuing summer.He and Dick--and Romero, of course--all spoke it very well, so that myopportunity for picking it up was excellent, and I made rapid progress;my knowledge of Latin, which, though very far from profound, was up tothe average of a schoolboy of my age, being an immense help.

  All this time we did not lack exercise--the professor was just asparticular about that as he was about our work--and Dick and I had manya jolly outing on our snow-shoes, the management of which was anotherthing I learned. I should not omit to mention also that I spent a gooddeal of time and a liberal number of cartridges practising with a rifle,thereby becoming a very fair shot; though, of course, I could notcompete with Dick, who, having learned as a mere child, seemed, almost,to shoot straight by nature.

  The weather on the average was splendid that winter, and there were butfew days when we could not get out. Four or five times, perhaps, duringthe months I spent in the valley a snow-storm came raging down on us,shutting us up for a day or two, after which the jovial sun would turnup smiling again just as though nothing had happened.

  It was toward the end of April that Dick and I began to get ready toleave. The increasing power of the sun had cleared off all the snowbelow eleven thousand feet, the green grass was beginning to show inmany places, and it was fair to suppose that by the time we reached theDos Hermanos we should find pasturage enough for our animals--two poniesand a mule.

  Dick already had his own pony, while the mule, a tough little beast byname Uncle Fritz, was provided by the professor, both animals havingpassed the winter on a ranch about a couple of thousand feet lower down.Before he left, Uncle Tom had suggested hiring them for the season, butthe professor would not consent to his paying anything, saying that theanimals might just as well be put to some use as to waste their timedoing nothing all summer. Consequently, about the only expense to whichmy guardian was put, besides furnishing provisions and tools for theexpedition, was the purchase of a pony and a rifle for me. This was avery moderate outlay, and I was glad to think that Uncle Tom would getoff so cheaply, if our search should turn out a failure; and no one wa
smore ready to recognize that possibility--probability, I should rathersay, perhaps--than Uncle Tom himself, to whom the many stories ingeneral circulation of lost Spanish mines of fabulous richness werefamiliar, and who knew very well how little foundation there was formost of them. The present case, though, was different from thegenerality, in that there existed documentary evidence that there hadbeen such a mine; a fact which altered the conditions entirely. For itis safe to say that without such documentary evidence Uncle Tom wouldnever have consented to our undertaking such an enterprise, and Dick andI, in consequence, would never have run into the series of adventureswhich were destined to befall us before we were many weeks older.

  It was on the first day of May that we at last took leave of our goodfriend, Herr Bergen, and rode off down the valley, passing on our waythrough the town of Mosby, where our appearance on horseback, drivingour pack-mule before us, excited among the citizens much speculation asto our destination; a matter concerning which we had said not a word toanybody. That it was a prospecting expedition any one could see, for thepick and shovel could not very well be concealed, but where we werebound for nobody knew, Uncle Tom having cautioned us that if we let aword escape about an old Spanish mine we should have a hundred men atour heels in no time; the very idea of such a thing having anirresistible fascination for some people, especially for theinexperienced newcomer.

  "PASSING ON OUR WAY THROUGH THE TOWN OF MOSBY."]

  Our reason for taking our way through town rather than crossing theMosby Ridge, back of the professor's house, and going down theMescalero valley, was that the latter course, cut up by many deepcanons, would be much the more difficult of the two; for by followingdown the eastern side of the ridge, as we proposed to do, we shouldpresently come to a point where that barrier, which up near Mescalerobegan as a mountain range, became first a line of round-topped hills,and then, about forty miles below town, came to an end altogether in alittle conical eminence known as The Foolscap. We could therefore passround its southern end without difficulty, when we should find ourselvesin the Mescalero valley at its wide part, and by heading southwestwardshould arrive in about another twenty miles in the neighborhood of thevillage of Hermanos--a route somewhat longer, but very much easier forthe animals, than the other one.

  About five miles below town we abandoned the road, which there turnedoff to the left to join the main stage-road, and continuing oursouthward course up and down hill over the spurs of the Mosby Ridge wemade camp early in the afternoon; for our animals being as yet in ratherpoor condition, we thought it advisable to give them an easy day for thefirst one.

  Selecting a sheltered nook among the pine trees, we unpacked the muleand unsaddled the ponies, and then, while Dick cooked our supper, Ibusied myself cutting pine boughs for our beds and chopping fire-wood.Soon after sunset we rolled ourselves in our blankets, and in spite ofthe novelty of the situation--for I had never before gone to bed with noroof overhead nearer than the sky--I slept soundly until Dick's voicearoused me, crying, "Roll out, old chap! Roll out! The sun will catchyou in bed in a minute," when I sprang up, fresh as a daisy and hungryas a shark, as one always seems to do after sleeping out under the starsin the keen, pine-scented air of the mountains.

  Continuing our journey, we presently rounded the end of the Mosby Ridge,and turning to the right saw before us the twin peaks of the DosHermanos, standing there, as it seemed to me, like two faithfulsentinels guarding the secret of the King Philip mine.

  "Now, Frank," said my companion, as we sat at supper on the little hillwith which the Ridge terminated, "we have a tough day of it before usto-morrow. The valley down at this end, you see, is just a sage-brushplain; there are no canons down here like there are at the upper end;and there is no water either, unfortunately--this side of themountains, I mean. The streams which come down from Mescalero and theRidge take a westerly turn and go off through a deep gorge to the northof the peaks--you can see the black shadow of it from here."

  "What do the people at Hermanos do for water, then?" I asked.

  "There is a little stream which comes down from the saddle between theDos Hermanos peaks and runs eastward through the village. But it sinksinto the soil soon afterward, for the country down that way becomes verysandy; it is the beginning of the Little Cactus Desert, across which thepack-trains and the soldier escort used to travel, you remember, headedfor the Mosca Pass--that low place in the Santa Claras that you see downthere, due south from here."

  "I see. So the nearest water is the stream running through the village.Do you propose, then, to make for Hermanos?"

  "No, I don't," replied Dick. "We want to avoid the village, if possible:it is no use exciting the curiosity of old Galvez, if he happens to bethere. What I propose is that we make straight from here to the northside of the peaks, leaving the village three or four miles on our left;find a good camping-place, and make it a base for our preliminaryoperations."

  "That's all right," I assented. "But how much of a day's ride will it beto the north side of the peaks? Further than to Hermanos, I suppose, andthat is over twenty miles."

  "Yes," replied Dick, "twenty-five miles certainly and perhaps thirty--along stretch without water. But we can do it all right. I propose thatwe get off by four in the morning, which ought to bring us to thefoothills of the Dos Hermanos by two or three o'clock in the afternoon."

  "That's a good idea," I responded. "And if, by bad luck, we should findthat we can't make it, we can always turn off and head for the villageif we have to."

  "Yes. So let us get to bed early. It will be a hard day at best, and wemay as well get all the sleep we can."

  As my companion had predicted, the morrow did turn out to be a toughday, and it began early, too. It was about half-past three in themorning that I was awakened by the crackling of the fire, and sitting upin my blankets, I saw Dick squatted on his heels, frying bacon over someof the hot embers.

  "Time to turn out, Frank," said he. "Breakfast will be ready in twominutes; feeling pretty hungry this morning?"

  By way of reply, I opened my mouth with a yawn so prodigious that Dicklaughingly continued:

  "Hungry as all that, eh? Well, old man, if the size of your mouth is anindication of the size of your appetite, I'll slice up anotherhalf-pound of bacon!"

  At this I laughed too, and jumping up, I ran to the creek, where Isoused my head and face in the cold water, which wakened me upeffectually.

  By four o'clock we were under way, steering by compass; for, though thestars were shining and the waning moon, then near its setting, furnishedsome light, there was not enough to enable us to distinguish objects atany distance. Our progress at first was pretty slow, for horses andmules do not like traveling by night, but presently there came a change,the sky behind us took on a rosy hue, and pretty soon there appeared onthe western horizon two glowing points, like a pair of triangular redlamps hung up in the sky for our guidance--the summits of the DosHermanos caught by the rising sun.

  It was an inspiring sight! The very animals, seeming to feel itsinfluence, brisked up at once and stepped out gaily, while Dick and I,who had been "mouching" along in silence, straightened up in our saddlesand fell to talking.

  "I've been thinking, Dick," said I, "about what our first move should beafter we have found a good camping-place. My idea is that we should ridedown to the neighborhood of Hermanos and see if there is any sign of anold trail leading from the village to the mountains."

  "That's a good idea," Dick responded. "It is pretty certain that thecopper was brought down from the mine on the backs of burros, and thesupplies carried up in the same way, and if that was kept up for severalyears there must have been a well-defined trail worn in this soft soil,which may be visible yet."

  "On the other hand," was my comment, "as the travel ceased so long ago,isn't it probable that the trail will have been blown full of sand andcovered up?"

  "That is likely enough--in many places, at least," replied my companion,"though it is very possible, I think, that there may be
some tracesleft, for it is surprising how long such marks on the ground continue toshow. At any rate, we'll try it. Here's the sun; it's going to bepretty hot, I expect."

  Slowly we plodded along, hour after hour, until presently we had comeopposite the village, the mud-colored buildings of which, though notmore than three miles away, were barely distinguishable against thegray-tinted plain upon which they stood. The green fields and gardenssurrounding the houses we could not see, they being below the generallevel, but that they were there, and that the Mexicans were at thatmoment engaged in irrigating them, we felt very sure. A light wind wasblowing from the south, and Dick declared that he could "smell the wet";but though I sniffed and sniffed, I could not conscientiously say that Icould detect it myself.

  Our animals, however, very evidently smelt it, for they evinced adecided inclination to bear to the left, and we had a good deal ofdifficulty in keeping their heads straight--the slightest inattention onour part, and they were off the line in a moment. As is so often thecase, they had not cared to drink in the cool of the morning before westarted, and consequently, what with the heat of the sun and the alkalidust they kicked up, they had become eager for water and would havemade a straight shoot for Hermanos if we had let them.

  But we were nearing the mountains, an hour or two more and we shouldreach water, probably, so, though it was painful to deny the poorbeasts, we kept right on, until about four in the afternoon--for it hadtaken us longer than we had anticipated--when all three of them suddenlylifted their heads, pricked their ears and wanted to run forward. Theysmelt water ahead of them.

  Pressing on at an increased pace, we were presently brought to a halt bycoming upon the brink of a cliff, at the base of which was a large poolof clear water. The pool lay in a little grass-covered valley about halfa mile long, encompassed on all sides by the precipitous wall of rock.We could not see that there was any way of getting down.

  In order to get a better view, Dick and I dismounted and walked to theedge, when the first thing we saw was a little bunch of half-a-dozenscrawny Mexican cattle down near the pool.

  "Then there is a way down," cried Dick. "Whoop!" he yelled, clapping hismouth with his hand.

  The cattle looked up, and seeing two horseless human beings on thesky-line above them, away they went up the valley, vanished for aninstant among the fallen rocks at the foot of the cliff, and in anothermoment appeared again on our level, going off southward with their tailsin the air, wild as deer.

  "Come on!" cried Dick, jumping upon his horse. "Where they came up wecan get down."

  Riding forward, we presently found the cow-trail, when, dismounting oncemore, for it was too steep to ride without risk of breaking one's neck,we led our horses down. Within another half-hour Dick and I, comfortablyseated in the shade of the rock, were enjoying a much-needed dinner,while the three animals, their waist-lines enormously distended with thegallons of water they had swallowed, were eagerly snapping up the younggreen grass with which the valley was covered--all the troubles of theday completely forgotten.