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

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER XIV

  A CHANGE OF PLAN

  If the young Spaniard had provided us with two or three surprises duringthe day, I think we got even with him in that line when Dick thusdisclosed to him the fact that we knew his name. For a moment he stoodgazing blankly at us, and then exclaimed:

  "How in the world did you guess that?"

  "I don't wonder you are puzzled," replied Dick, "but the explanation isvery simple. The Professor Bergen who wrote to your father--that's theright name, isn't it?"

  Young Blake nodded. "That was the name signed to the letter," said he."'Otto Bergen.'"

  "Well, this Professor Bergen is my best and oldest friend; I have livedwith him for thirteen or fourteen years. We left his house to come downhere less than a week ago. It was he who told us of his meeting with aSpaniard of the remarkable name of Blake, who, while hunting through therecords in Santa Fe, had come across mention of this old mine. And whenhe and I passed through Hermanos last year and saw all those old coppervessels there, the professor wrote at once to your father to tell himabout them. I mailed the letter myself."

  "Well, this is certainly a most remarkable meeting!" cried our newacquaintance. "Why, I feel as if I had fallen in with two old friends!"

  "Well, you have, if you like!" cried Dick, laughing; whereupon we shookhands all over again with the greatest heartiness.

  "My first name," said young Blake, "is Arturo--Arthur in thiscountry--the name of the original Irish ancestor who fled to Spain inthe year 1691, and after whom each of the eldest sons of our family hasbeen named ever since. But not being gifted with your genius forguessing names," he continued, with a smile, "I haven't yet found outwhat yours are."

  "That's a fact!" cried Dick. "What thoughtless chaps we are! My friendhere, is Frank Preston of St. Louis; my own name is----"

  "Senores," said Pedro, cutting in at this moment, "with your pardon, wemust be getting out of this canon: it will be black night down here inanother ten minutes."

  "That's true!" our friend assented. "So come along. We camp together,of course. How are you off for provisions? We have the hind-quarter of adeer which Pedro shot three days ago; pretty lean and stringy, but ifyou are as hungry as I am we can make it do."

  "Hungry!" cried Dick. "I'm ravenous. We've had nothing to eat since sixo'clock this morning. How is it with you, Frank?"

  "I'll show you," I replied, snapping my teeth together, "as soon as Iget the chance."

  With a laugh, we set off over the dam, and half an hour later were allbusy round the fire toasting strips of deer-meat on sticks and eatingthem as fast as they were cooked, with an appetite which illustrated--ifit needed illustration--the truth of the old saying, that the best ofall sauces is hunger.

  Our supper finished, we made ourselves comfortable round the fire, andfar into the night--long after Pedro had rolled himself in his blanketand had gone to sleep--we sat there talking.

  The reasons for our own presence in these parts were briefly and easilyexplained, when our new friend, Arthur--with whom, by the way, we verysoon felt ourselves sufficiently familiar to address by his firstname--Arthur related to us the motives which had brought him so farfrom home.

  "It was not only to hunt up this old mine," said he; "in fact, that wasquite a secondary object. My chief reason for coming out was to lookinto the condition of the Hermanos Grant, and to find out why it was wehad been unable for the past twelve years to get any reports fromthere."

  "Why _you_ hadn't been able to get reports!" exclaimed Dick. "What have_you_ got to do with the Hermanos Grant, then?"

  "It belongs to my father," replied Arthur, smiling.

  We stared at him with raised eyebrows.

  "But what about old Galvez, then?" asked my partner. "We supposed itbelonged to him. In fact, his nephew told us as much, and he evidentlyspoke in good faith, too."

  "I dare say he did," replied Arthur. "All the same, the grant belongs,and for about a century and a half has belonged, to our family. It wasmy ancestor, Arthur the First, who 'bossed' the King Philip mine and whobuilt the _Casa del Rey_. Old Galvez is just a usurper. I did not evenknow of his existence till I reached the village three days ago. It is along and rather complicated story, but if you are not too sleepy I'lltry to explain it before we go to bed."

  It was a long story; and as our frequent questions and interruptionsmade it a good deal longer, I think it will be wise to relate it, orsome of it, at least, in my own words, to save time.

  The original Arthur Blake having rendered notable service in the greatbattle of Almanza, the king of Spain rewarded the gallant Irishman bymaking him "Governor" of the King Philip mine, at the same time, in truekingly fashion, bestowing upon him a large tract of land, comprising thevillage of Hermanos with the inhabitants thereof, as well as the desertsurrounding it for five miles each way.

  The mine having ceased to be workable, for the reason we had seen,Arthur the First was preparing to return to his adopted country, when hedied out there, alone, in that far-off land of exile. In course of timethe existence of the King Philip mine passed entirely out of everybody'srecollection, as would probably have been the case with the HermanosGrant itself, had not the agent or factor, or, as he was locally called,the _mayordomo_, placed in charge by the old Irishman, continued fromyear to year to send over to the representative of the family in Spaincertain small sums of money collected in the way of rents.

  They were an honest family, these factors, the son succeeding the fatherfrom generation to generation, and faithfully they continued to sendover the trifling annual remittances, until the year 1865, when thepayments suddenly and unaccountably ceased.

  It was two or three years before this that Senor Blake, having theopportunity to do so, had come out to Southern Colorado to take a lookat the old grant, which, since the discovery of gold in the territory,might have some value after all.

  As a part of this trip he visited Santa Fe, with the object of searchingthrough the records for some copy of the original royal patent; for whathad become of that document nobody knew. It was possible that it hadbeen destroyed when the French burnt the family mansion during thePeninsular war; again it was possible that old Arthur the First hadbrought it with him to America for the purpose of submitting it to theinspection of the Mexican authorities--for that part of Colorado was inthose days under the rule of the viceroy of Mexico.

  In the limited time at his disposal, however, Senor Blake had found notrace of it; a circumstance he much regretted, for though hitherto therehad never been any question as to the title, should the tract some dayprove of value, such question might very well arise, when the Blakefamily might have difficulty in proving ownership.

  For about three years after his visit things continued to jog along inthe old way, until, as I said, in the year 1865 the annual remittancessuddenly ceased and all communication with Hermanos appeared to be cutoff--for reasons unknown and undiscoverable.

  Such was the state of affairs when the elder Blake took up his residencein Washington, when Arthur, having solicited permission from his father,came west to find out if possible what was the matter.

  "When I got to Hermanos," said Arthur, continuing his story, "I foundthe people in such a down-trodden, spiritless condition that I had greatdifficulty in getting any information out of them--they were afraid tosay anything lest evil should befall. By degrees, however, I gainedtheir confidence, when I found that the Sanchez family, by whom, forgenerations past, the office of _mayordomo_ had been held, was extinct,except for a certain Pedro, a member of a distant branch, and that thepresent owner of the grant was one, Galvez, who, seemingly, had comeinto possession about twelve years ago.

  "As I could not understand how this could be, and as nobody seemed ableto enlighten me, I decided, of course, to wait till Galvez came home inorder to question him.

  "Meanwhile, I inquired about this man, Pedro Sanchez, who, I was told,was the only one likely to be able to explain, meeting with nodifficulty in ascertaining where he was to be fou
nd; for, though Galvezhimself did not know whether Pedro was alive or dead, every otherinhabitant of the village knew perfectly well, and always had known, notonly that he was alive but where to find him.

  "Presently, about dusk, Galvez came riding in, when I at once mademyself known to him. At the mention of my name he appeared for a momentto be rendered speechless, either with fear or surprise, and then, to mygreat astonishment, with a burst of execration, he snatched a revolverout of its holster. Luckily for me, he did it in such haste that theweapon, striking the pommel of the saddle, flew out of his hand and fellupon the ground; whereupon I ran for it, jumped upon my horse and rodeaway.

  "After riding a short distance, I bethought me of Pedro, so, circlinground the village, I came up here, and following the directions of thepeons, I easily found him next morning. Through Pedro, as soon as I hadsucceeded in convincing him of my identity, I quickly got at the rightsof the case."

  "Wait a minute," said Dick, who, together with myself, had been anattentive listener. "Let me put some more logs on the fire. There!" ashe seated himself once more. "That will last for some time. Now, goahead."

  Leaning back against a tree-trunk and stretching out his feet to thefire, Arthur began again:

  "Did you ever hear of the Espinosas?" he asked.

  "No!" I exclaimed, surprised by the apparently unconnected question; butDick replied, "Yes, I have. Mexican bandits, or something of the sort,weren't they?"

  "Yes," said our friend. "They were a pair of Mexicans who, in the year'65, terrorized certain parts of Colorado by committing many murders ofwhite people. This man, Galvez, who then lived in Taos, hated theAmericans with a very thorough and absorbing hatred, and the exploits ofthe Espinosas being just suited to his taste, he decided to join them.But he was a little too late; the two brigands were killed, and hehimself, with a bullet through his shoulder, would assuredly have beencaptured had he not had the good fortune to fall in with Pedro Sanchez.

  "Pedro had been a soldier, too, and coming thus upon a comrade indistress he packed him on his burro, and by trails known only to himselfbrought him down to Hermanos, entering the village secretly by night.

  "The occupant of the _Casa_ at that time was another Pedro Sanchez, aforty-second cousin or thereabouts of our Pedro. He was a very old man,the last of his immediate family, a good, honest, simple-minded oldfellow, who for thirty years or more had been factor for us. With himPedro sought asylum for his comrade--a favor the old man readily grantedto his namesake and relative.

  "It was pretty sure that there would be a hue and cry after Galvez, so,to avoid suspicion as much as possible, they arranged to give out thatit was Pedro who lay sick at the _Casa_, while Pedro himself went offagain that same night up into the mountain to hide till Galvez thoughtit safe to move. He had done everything he could think of for hisfriend, and how do you suppose his friend requited him? It will show youthe sort of man this Galvez is.

  "For six weeks the latter lay hidden, when in some roundabout way he gotword that his description was placarded on the walls of Taos and areward offered for his capture. This cut him off from returning home andhe was in a quandary what to do, when one day his host, who, as I said,was a very old man, had a fall from his horse and two days later died.

  "Then did Galvez resolve upon a bold stroke. He came out of hishiding-place, and without offering reasons or explanations calmlyannounced that he had become proprietor of the Hermanos Grant, and thatin future the villagers were to look to him for orders! The veryimpudence of the move carried the day. The ignorant peons, accustomedfor generations to obey, accepted the situation without question; andthus did Galvez install himself as padron of Hermanos, and padron hehas remained for twelve years, there being nobody within five thousandmiles to enter protest or dispute his title."

  "Well!" exclaimed Dick. "That was about the most bare-faced piece ofrascality I ever did hear of. And your father, of course, over there inCadiz or London or wherever you were then, was helpless to find out whatwas going on in this remote corner."

  "That's it exactly; and at that time, too, this corner was far moreremote even than it is now--there were no railroads anywhere near then,you see."

  "That's true. Well, go on. What about his treatment of Pedro?"

  "Why, Galvez, as padron of Hermanos--a place almost completely cut offfrom the rest of the world--felt pretty sure that he would never beidentified as Galvez of Taos, the man wanted for brigandage; for thevillagers had no suspicion of the fact. The only danger lay in Pedro."

  "I see. Pedro being the one person who did know the facts."

  "Exactly. Well, Galvez was not one to stick at trifles, andunderstanding that the simplest way to secure his own safety would beto get rid of this witness, he came riding up into the mountain one day,found Pedro, and while talking with him in friendly fashion, pulled outa big flint-lock horse-pistol, jammed it against his benefactor's chestand pulled the trigger. Luckily the weapon missed fire; Pedro jumpedaway, picked up a big stone and hurled it at his faithless friend,taking him in the mouth and knocking out all his front teeth. Then he,himself, fled up into his mountain; and that was their last meeting,except on the occasion when Galvez came up to hunt for him and Pedroshot his horse with the copper-headed arrow.

  "There!" Arthur concluded. "Now you have it all. That's the wholestory!"

  "And a mighty curious and interesting story it is, too!" exclaimed Dick;adding, after a thoughtful pause: "That man, Galvez, is certainly aremarkable specimen; and a dangerous one. He is not an ordinary,every-day, primitive ruffian. That move of his in declaring himselfpadron of Hermanos was a stroke of genius in its way. It won't be asimple matter to get him out of there, if that is what you are after."

  "That is what I am after," replied Arthur. "But, as I said, thequestion of how to do it is too complicated for me. I know nothing ofAmerican law, but it strikes me that, in spite of the fact that heplainly has no right there, we may have considerable difficulty ingetting him out, for, as we can show neither the original patent nor acopy of it, we have only our word for it that such a thing everexisted."

  "That's true," said I. "And Galvez being in possession, it may be thathe would not have to prove _his_ rights: it would rest with you to prove_yours._"

  "I should think that was very likely," remarked Dick. "It is acomplicated matter, as you say. What do you suppose your father will do?Have you any idea?"

  "Yes, I have," replied Arthur, very emphatically. "I know exactly whathe will do. When I tell him how the grant has been 'annexed' by thisman--and such a man, too--he will never rest until he has got him out.It may be that the old brigandage business may serve as a lever--that, Idon't know--but whatever is necessary to be done he will do, howeverlong it may take and however much it may cost."

  "As to the cost," said I, "that is likely, I should think, to be prettybig. Is the grant worth it? Suppose, on investigation, your fathershould find that the expense of getting Galvez out would be greater thanthe value of the property--what then?"

  Arthur laughed. "You don't know my father," said he. "The value of thegrant--which, in truth, is nothing, or nearly nothing--makes nodifference whatever. It's the principle of the thing. To permit a robberlike Galvez to remain quietly in possession would be impossible to myfather. He will regard it as his duty to society to right the wrong, andhe will do it, if it takes ten years, without considering for a momentwhether the grant is worth it or not."

  "Good for him!" cried Dick, thumping his knee with his fist. "The law inthis new West is weak--naturally--and here in this out-of-the-way cornerthere is none at all, but a few such men as your father would soonstiffen its backbone. I hope he'll succeed; the only thing I'm sorry foris that the grant has so little value."

  "That is unfortunate," replied Arthur; "though, as it happens, thatparticular concerns my father less than it does me."

  "Is that so? How is that?"

  "It is an old custom in the family to bestow the Hermanos Grant on theeldest son on his coming of age. I am the el
dest son, and I come of agenext August, when, according to the custom, I shall become the owner ofthis valueless patch of desert--if Galvez will be graciously pleased toallow me."

  "What are the limits of the grant?" asked Dick.

  "North, south and east," replied Arthur, "it extends five miles fromHermanos, but on the west it stops at the foot of the mountains."

  "So the only part of it which produces anything is that little patch ofcultivated ground surrounding the village."

  "Yes; and as the water-supply is very limited the place can never growany larger. In fact, it produces little more than enough to feed thevillagers; and even as it is, the boys as they grow up have to go offand get work elsewhere as sheep-herders and cowmen, there being no roomfor them at home. It is the padron's custom, I was told, to hire themout, their wages being paid to him, in which case you may be sure it isprecious little of their earnings they ever get themselves."

  "He's a bad one, sure enough," remarked Dick. "But to go back to thatwater-supply. Isn't there any way of increasing it?"

  "I'm afraid not," replied Arthur. "I wish there were: a plentiful supplyof water would make the place really valuable. There is land enough, andexcellent land, too; all that is needed is water. But that, I'm afraid,is not to be had. I've talked to Pedro about it; he knows every streamon these two mountains, but he says that they all run in canons fromfive hundred to two thousand feet deep, and there is no possible way ofgetting any of them out upon the surface of the valley. What are youthinking about, Dick?"

  My partner, who had been sitting with his elbows on his knees and hischin in his hands, frowning severely at the fire, started from hisrevery, and turning toward his questioner, he replied, speaking slowlyand thoughtfully:

  "If any one ought to know, it's Pedro; but, all the same, I believePedro is wrong. I believe there _is_ a way of turning one of thesestreams somewhere and bringing it down to Hermanos--if only one couldfind the right stream."

  "Why do you think so?" asked Arthur.

  "I know it looks ridiculous for me to be setting up my opinion againstPedro's," replied my partner, "but I can't help thinking that there issuch a stream. Look here!" he cried, jumping up, walking to and frobetween us and the fire once or twice, and then stopping and shaking hisfinger at us as though he were delivering a lecture to two inattentivepupils. "Where did those old Pueblos get their water from, I should liketo know? Up in these mountains somewhere, didn't they? Of course theydid: there's no other place. There was a big irrigation system downthere once, enough to support a population of three or four thousandpeople probably. Well! What has become of that supply? That's what Iwant to know. They had it once--where is it now?"

  For some seconds Dick stood in front of Arthur, pointing his fingerstraight at him, while Arthur sat there in silence gazing steadfastly atDick. Suddenly, the young Spaniard jumped up, stepped forward, andslapping my partner on his chest with the back of his hand, exclaimed:

  "Look here, old man! I believe you are right. I believe there is astream somewhere which those old Pueblos used for irrigating theirfarms. It has somehow been switched off and lost. It ought to be foundand brought back. Now, look here! I can't stay here to hunt for itmyself: I _must_ get home right away. But I'll make a bargain withyou:--You find that stream and provide a way of getting the water backto Hermanos, and I'll give you a half-interest in the grant--when I getit. There, now! There's a chance for you!"

  "Do you mean that?" cried my partner.

  "I certainly do," replied Arthur. "The grant is without value as itstands: if you can get water on to it and give it a value, it would beonly just that you should have a share in the profits. Yes, I mean whatI say, all right. If you'll supply the water, I'll supply the land.There! What do you say? Is it a bargain?"

  For a moment Dick stood staring thoughtfully at our friend, and then,turning to me, he exclaimed sharply:

  "Frank! Let's do it! Here we are, out for the summer. It's true we cameout to hunt for a copper mine, but that scheme being 'busted' at thevery start, let us turn to and hunt for water instead. What do youthink?"

  "I'm agreed!" I cried.

  "Good! Then we'll do it! And the very first move----"

  "The very first move," interrupted Arthur, laughing, "the very firstmove is--to bed! It's after eleven!"

  "Phew!" Dick whistled. "I'd no idea it was so late. To bed, then; andto-morrow we'll work out a plan of action. This has been a pretty longday, and a pretty eventful one, too. So let's get to bed at once, andto-morrow we'll start fair."

  In spite of the long day and the lateness of the hour, however, I couldnot get to sleep at once. Dick, too, seemed to be wakeful. I heard himstir, and opening my eyes, I saw him sitting up in bed with his armsclasped around his blanketed knees, gazing at the fire. Suddenly, hegave his leg a mighty slap with his open hand, and I heard him chuckleto himself.

  "What's the matter, Dick?" I whispered. "Got a flea?"

  "No," he replied, laughing softly. "I've got an idea. Go to sleep, oldchap. I'll tell you in the morning."