The Silver Canyon

by Fenn, George Manville

  It was deemed wise to wait till evening, and taking it in turns, they watched and slept till nearly sundown.

  The Beaver had had the last watch, and he announced that he had seen a large body of Apachés going in the direction of the canyon, but at so great a distance off across the plain that there was no need for alarm.

  They started soon afterwards, and after a very uneventful but tedious journey, they reached the spot where they had first encountered the Beaver and his followers. Here the Indians came to a halt: they did not care to go farther towards the home of the white man, but readily entered into a compact to keep watch near the Silver Canyon, and return two moons hence to meet the Doctor and his expeditionary party, when they were once more on their way across the plains.

  The journey seemed strange without the company of the chief and his men, and during many of their halts but little rest was had on account of the necessity for watchfulness. The rest of the distance was, however, got over in safety, and they rode at last into the town of Lerisco, where their expedition having got wind soon after they had started, their return was looked upon as of people from the dead.

  For here the Doctor encountered several old friends and neighbours from their ranches, fifteen or even twenty miles from the town, and they were all ready with stories of their misfortunes, the raids they had had to endure from the unfriendly Indians; and the Doctor returned to his temporary lodgings that night satisfied that he had only to name his discovery to gain a following of as many enterprising spirits as he wished to command.

  There was a good deal to do, for the Doctor felt that it would not be very satisfactory to get his discovery in full working order, and then have it claimed by the United States Government, or that of the Republic then in power in those parts.

  He soon satisfied himself, however, of the right course to pursue, had two or three interviews with the governor, obtained a concession of the right to work the mine in consideration of a certain percentage of silver being paid to the government; and this being all duly signed and sealed, he came away light-hearted and eager to begin.

  His first care was to make arrangements for the staying of Maude in some place of safety, and he smiled to himself as he realised how easy this would be now that he was the owner of a great silver mine. It was simplicity itself.

  No sooner did Don Ramon the governor comprehend what was required than an invitation came from his lady, a pleasant-looking Spanish-Mexican dame, who took at once to the motherless girl, and thus the difficulty was got over, both the governor and his wife declaring that Maude should make that her home.

  Then the Doctor rode out to three or four ranches in the neighbourhood, and laid his plan before their owners, offering them such terms of participation that they jumped at the proposals; and the result was that in a very short time no less than six ranches had been closed, the female occupants settled in the town, and their owners, with their waggons, cattle, mules, horses, and an ample supply of stores, were preparing for their journey across the forest to the Silver Canyon.

  There was a wonderfully attractive sound in that title—The Silver Canyon, and it acted like magic on the men of English blood, who, though they had taken to the dress, and were burned by the sun almost to the complexion of the Spanish-Americans amongst whom they dwelt, had still all the enterprise and love of adventure of their people, and were ready enough to go.

  Not so the Mexicans. There was a rich silver mine out in the plains? Well, let it be there; they could enjoy life without it, and they were not going to rob themselves of the comfort of basking in the sun and idling and sauntering in the evenings. Besides, there were the Indians, and they might have to fight, a duty they left to the little army kept up by the republic. The lancers had been raised on purpose to combat with the Indians. Let them do it. They, the Mexican gentlemen, preferred their cigáritos, and to see a bolero danced to a couple of twanging guitars.

  The Englishmen laughed at the want of enterprise by the “greasers,” as they contemptuously called the people, and hugged themselves as they thought of what wealth there was in store for them.

  One evening, however, Bart, who was rather depressed at the idea of going without his old companion Maude, although at the same time he could not help feeling pleased at the prospect of her remaining in safety, was returning to his lodgings, which he shared with Joses, when he overtook a couple of the English cattle-breeders, old neighbours of the Doctor, who were loudly talking about the venture.

  “I shouldn’t be a bit surprised,” said one, “if this all turns out to be a fraud.”

  “Oh no, I think it’s all right.”

  “But there have been so many cheats of this kind.”

  “True, so there have,” said the other.

  “And if the Doctor has got us together to take us right out there for the sake of his own ends?”

  “Well, I shouldn’t care to be him,” said the other, “if it proves to be like that.”

  They turned down a side lane, and Bart heard no more, but this was enough to prove to him that the Doctor’s would be no bed of roses if everything did not turn out to be as good as was expected.

  He reported this to the Doctor, who only smiled, and hurried on his preparations.

  Money was easily forthcoming as soon as it was known that the government favoured the undertaking; and at last, with plenty of rough mining implements, blasting powder, and stores of all kinds, the Doctor’s expedition started at daybreak one morning, in ample time to keep the appointment with the Beaver.

  “I say, Master Bart,” said Joses, as he sat upon his strong horse side by side with Bart, watching their train go slowly by, “I think we can laugh at the Apachés now, my lad; while, when the Sharp-Toothed Beaver joins us with his dark-skinned fighting men, we can give the rascals such a hunting as shall send ’em north amongst the Yankees with fleas in their ears.”

  “It’s grand!” cried Bart, rousing himself up, for he had been feeling rather low-spirited at parting from Maude, and it had made him worse to see the poor girl’s misery when she had clung to her father and said the last good-byes. Still there was the fact that the governor and his lady were excellent people, and the poor girl would soon brighten up.

  And there sat Bart, on his eager little horse, Black Boy, which kept on champing its bit and snorting and pawing the ground, shaking its head, and longing, after weeks of abstinence, to be once more off and away on a long-stretching gallop across the plains.

  There were men mounted on horses, men on mules, greasers driving cattle or the baggage mules, some in charge of the waggons, and all well-armed, eager and excited, as they filed by, a crowd of swarthy, poncho-wearing idlers watching them with an aspect of good-humoured contempt and pity on their faces, as if saying to themselves, “Poor fools! what a lot of labour and trouble they are going through to get silver and become rich, while we can be so much more happy and comfortable in our idleness and dirt and rags!”

  A couple of miles outside the town the mob of idlers to the last man had dropped off, and, bright and excited, the Doctor rode up in the cheery morning sunshine.

  “I’m going to ride forward, Bart,” he cried, “so as to lead the van and show the line of march. You keep about the middle, and mind there’s no straggling off to right or left. You, Joses, take the rear, and stand no tricks from stragglers. Every man is to keep to his place and do his duty. Strict discipline is to be the order of the day, and unless we keep up our rigid training we shall be in no condition to encounter the Indians when they come.”

  “What are these coming after us?” cried Bart, looking back at a cloud of dust.

  “Lancers,” said Joses.

  “Surely there is no trouble with the governor now,” exclaimed the Doctor, excitedly, as a squadron of admirably mounted cavalry, with black-yellow pennons to their lances, came up at a canter, their leader riding straight up to the Doctor.

  “Don Ramon sends me to see you well on the road, Don Lascelles,” he cried. “We are t
o set you well upon your journey.”

  As he spoke, he turned and raised his hand, with the result that the next in command rode forward with a troop of the body of cavalry, to take the lead till they had reached the first halting-place, where the lancers said farewell, and parted from the adventurers, both parties cheering loudly when the soldiery rode slowly back towards Lerisco, while the waggon-train continued its long, slow journey towards the mountains.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty.

  The Thirsty Desert.

  The journey was without adventure. Signs of Indians were seen, and this made those of the train more watchful, but there was no encounter with the red men of the desert, till an alarm was spread one morning of a party of about twenty well-mounted Indians being seen approaching the camp, just as it was being broken up for a farther advance towards the mountains.

  The alarm spread; men seized their rifles, and they were preparing to fire upon the swiftly approaching troop, when Bart and Joses set spur to their horses, and went off at full gallop, apparently to encounter the enemy.

  But they had not been deceived. Even at a distance Bart knew his friend the Beaver at a glance, and the would-be defenders of the camp saw the meeting, and the hearty handshaking that took place.

  This was a relief, and the men of the expedition gazed curiously at the bronzed, well-armed horsemen of the plains, who sat their wiry, swift little steeds as if they were part and parcel of themselves, when they rode up to exchange greetings with the Doctor.

  From that hour the Beaver’s followers took the place of the lancers, leading the van and closing up the rear, as well as constantly hovering along the sides of the long waggon-train, which they guarded watchfully as if it were their own particular charge.

  The Doctor placed implicit reliance in the chief, who guided them by a longer route, but which proved to be one which took them round the base of the two mountainous ridges they had to pass, and thus saved the adventurers a long and arduous amount of toil with the waggons in the rugged ground.

  At last, when they were well in sight of the flat-topped mountain, and the Doctor was constantly reining in his horse to sweep the horizon with his glass in search of the Apachés, the chief rode up to say that he and his men were about to advance on a scouting expedition to sweep the country between them and the canyon, while the train was to press on, always keeping a watchful look-out until their Indian escort returned.

  The Beaver and his men scoured off like the wind, and were soon lost to view, while that night and the next day the long train moved slowly over the plain to avoid the dense clumps of prickly cactus and agaves, suffering terribly from thirst, for what had been verdant when Bart was there last was now one vast expanse of dust, which rose thickly in clouds at the tramp of horse or mule.

  The want of water was beginning to be severely felt; and as they went sluggishly on, towards the second evening horses and mules with drooping heads, and the cattle lowing piteously, Bart, as he kept cantering from place to place to say a few encouraging words, knew that he could hold out no hope of water being reached till well on in the next day, and he would have urged a halt for rest, only that the Doctor was eager for them to get as well on their way as possible.

  Night at last, a wretched, weary night of intense heat, and man and beast suffering horribly from thirst. The clouds had gathered during the night, and the thunder rolled in the distance, while vivid flashes of lightning illumined the plains, but no rain fell, and when morning broke, after the most painful time Bart had ever passed, he found the Doctor looking ghastly, his eyes bloodshot, his lips cracked, and that even hardy Joses was suffering to as great an extent.

  The people were almost in a state of mutiny, and ready to ask the Doctor if he had dragged them to this terrible blinding waste to perish from thirst; while it was evident that if water was not soon reached half the beasts must fall down by the way.

  As it was, numbers of the poor animals were bleeding from the mouth and nostrils from the pricks received as they eagerly champed the various plants of the cactus family.

  “Let us push on,” said the Doctor; “everything depends upon our getting on to that shallow lake, for there is no water in the way;” but with every desire to push on, the task became more laborious every hour,—the cattle were constantly striving to stray off to right or left in search of something to quench their maddening thirst, while, go where he would, the Doctor was met by fierce, angry looks and muttered threats.

  It would have been easy enough for the men to ride on to find water, but there was always the fear that if they did, the Indians would select just that moment for marching down and driving off their cattle and plundering the waggons. Such an attack would have been ruin, perhaps death to all, so there was nothing for it but to ride sullenly on in company with the now plodding cattle, hour after hour.

  “Why don’t the Beaver come back, Joses?” cried Bart, pettishly. “If he were here, his men could take care of the cattle and waggons, while we went on for water. The lake can’t be many miles ahead.”

  “A good ways yet,” said Joses. “That mountain looks close when it’s miles away. Beaver’s watching the Injuns somewheres, or he’d have been back before now. Say, Master Bart, I’m glad we haven’t got much farther to go. If we had, we shouldn’t do it.”

  “I’m afraid not,” replied Bart, and then they both had to join in the task of driving back the suffering cattle into the main body, for they would keep straying away.

  And so the journey went on all that day through the blinding, choking dust and scorching heat, which seemed to blister and sting till it was almost unbearable.

  “Keep it up, my lads,” Bart kept on saying. “There’s water ahead. Not much farther now.”

  “That mountain gets farther away,” said one of the newcomers. “I don’t believe we shall ever get there.”

  This was a specimen of the incessant complaining of the people, whom the heat and thirst seemed to rob of every scrap of patience and endurance that they might have originally possessed.

  But somehow, in spite of all their troubles, the day wore on, and Bart kept hopefully looking out for a glimpse of the water ahead.

  They ought to have reached it long before, but the pace of the weary oxen had been most painfully slow. Then the wind, what little there was, had been behind them, seeming as out of the mouth of some furnace, and bringing back upon them the finely pulverised dust that the cattle raised.

  At last, towards evening, the sky began again to cloud over, and the mountain that had appeared distant seemed, by the change in the atmosphere, to be brought nearer to them. Almost by magic, too, the wind fell. There was a perfect calm, and then it began to blow from the opposite quarter, at first in soft puffs, then as a steady, refreshing breeze, and instantly there was a commotion in the camp,—the cattle set off at a lumbering gallop; the mules, heedless of their burdens, followed suit; the horses snorted and strained at their bridles, and Joses galloped about, shouting to the teamsters in charge of the waggons, who were striving with all their might to restrain their horses.

  “Let them go, my lads; unhitch and let them go, or they’ll have the waggons over.”

  “Stampede! stampede!” some of the men kept shouting, and all at once it seemed that the whole of the quadrupeds were in motion; for, acting upon Joses’ orders, the teams were unhitched, and away the whole body swept in a thundering gallop onward towards the mountain, leaving the waggons solitary in the dusty plain.

  Every now and then a mule freed itself of its pack, and began kicking and squealing in delight at its freedom, while the cattle tossed their horns and went on in headlong gallop.

  For once the wind had turned, the poor suffering beasts had sniffed the soft moist air that had passed over the shallow lake, and their unerring instinct set them off in search of relief.

  There was no pause, and all the mounted men could do was to let their horses keep pace with the mules and cattle, only guiding them clear of the thickest
part of the drove. And so they thundered on till the dusty plain was left behind, and green rank herbage and thickly growing water-plants reached, through which the cattle rushed to the shallow water at the edge of the lake.

  But still they did not stop to drink, but rushed on and on, plashing as they went, till they were in right up to their flanks. Then, and then only, did they begin to drink, snorting and breathing hard, and drawing in the pure fresh water.

  Some bellowed with pleasure as they seemed to satisfy their raging thirst; others began to swim or waded out till their nostrils only were above the surface; while the mules, as soon as they had drunk their fill, started to squeal and kick and splash to the endangerment of their loads. The horses behaved the most soberly, contenting themselves with wading in to a respectable distance, and then drinking when the water was undisturbed and pure, as did their masters; the Doctor, Joses, and Bart bending down and filling the little metal cups they carried again and again.

  It was growing dark as they turned from the shallow water of the lake, the mules following the horses placidly enough, and the lumbering cattle contentedly obeying the call of their masters, and settling themselves down directly to crop the rich rank grasses upon the marshy shores.

  A short consultation was held now, and the question arose whether they had been observed by Indians, who might come down and try to stampede the cattle.

  The matter was settled by one-half the men staying to guard them, while the other half went back to fetch up the waggons, the mule-drivers having plenty to do in collecting the burdens that had been kicked off, but which the mules submitted patiently enough to have replaced.

  Still it was long on towards midnight before the waggons had all been drawn up to the shores of the lake, whose soft moist grasses seemed like paradise to the weary travellers over the desolate, dusty plains; and no sooner had Bart tethered Black Boy, and seen him contentedly cropping the grass, than, forgetful of Indians, hunger, everything but the fact that he was wearied out, he threw himself down, and in less than a minute he was fast asleep.