The Silver Canyon

by Fenn, George Manville

  “But they couldn’t unless they came close up, Joses.”

  “Well, what’s to hinder ’em from coming close up? They’ll crawl through the grass, and from stone to stone in the dark there, and who’s to see ’em? My eyes are sharp enough, but I don’t know as I should see them coming. Let’s ask the Beaver what he says.”

  “The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth has heard all you said,” whispered the interpreter, “and he says that the Apachés will come before long to find the way into the camp, and then they will go away again if they do not die.”

  A curious silence seemed to fall after this, and Bart felt, as he crouched there watching the plains, that something very terrible was going to happen ere long. At another time he would have been drowsy, but now sleep was the last thing of which he thought, all his nerves being overwrought; and as his eyes swept the wide flat plain, he kept on fancying that sooner or later he would see the Apachés coming up to them with the slow, silent approach of so many shadows.

  And now it suddenly struck Bart that the shadow of the mountain was shorter than when the moon first rose, and that its edges were more boldly defined, and by this he knew, of course, that the moon was getting higher. At the same time though, soft fleecy clouds began to hide the stars, and at times the shadow of the mountain was blotted out, for the moon was from time to time obscured, and the peculiar indistinctness of the earth seemed to Bart as exactly suited for an enemy’s approach.

  A slight movement at his side told him that this was the Indians’ idea as well, and that to a man they were eagerly scanning the plain and the rugged patches of rock beneath.

  Every here and there the fallen masses were piled-up into buttresses, and it was amongst these that, after failing to keep his attention upon the misty plain, Bart let his gaze wander till at last he became convinced that he could see some dark patch in slow motion, and it was long enough before he could satisfy himself that it was only a stone.

  He was deceived in this way so often—the various little prominences below him seeming to waver and move, and assume form in accordance with his ideas—that he grew tired of watching, feeling sure at last that there would be nothing to trouble them that night, when suddenly a soft firm hand glided gently and silently as a snake to his wrist, took firm hold of it and pressed it, before rising and pointing down below them into the plain.

  Bart followed the direction of the pointing hand, but he could see nothing, and he was about to say so, when gradually sweeping past, a few light clouds must have left the moon partially clear, and with the sudden access of light, Bart could make out two somethings close beside the piled-up rocks, and for some moments he could not be sure that they were men prostrated on their chests crawling towards the entrance to the cattle corral, for they seemed to assimilate with the colour of the earth; and though he strained his eyes, not a trace of motion could he detect.

  By degrees though it seemed to him that one of the figures was a man, the other some shaggy kind of crouching beast, till his eyes grew more educated, and he decided that one was an Indian naked to the waist, while the other was wearing his buffalo robe as an additional means of protection.

  Bart watched them attentively, and still the figures did not move. At last, however, he saw that they had changed their position, creeping closer to the piled-up rocks, and at last, evidently encouraged by the fact that when the firing took place that evening there was no response, the two savages suddenly rose erect, and went to the piled-up stones that blocked the corral entry.

  “How did they know the cattle were there?” said Bart, putting his lips close by Joses’ ear.

  “Nose!” whispered back the frontiersman, laconically.

  “But how could they tell that this was the entrance?” whispered Bart again.

  “Eyes!” replied Joses; and he then laid his hand upon Bart’s lips, as a sign that he must refrain from speaking any more.

  Bart rather chafed at this, and he was growing excited as well, for it troubled him that Joses and the Beaver should have let these two spies go right up to such a treasure as the cattle corral unchallenged; and though he would not have thought of firing at the savages, he could not help thinking that something ought to be done—what he could not say—for the low grating noise he now heard was certainly the Indians moving one of the blocks of stone that had so carefully been placed there that afternoon.

  “They’re opening the corral, my lad,” said Joses just then, in a hoarse whisper; “and if we don’t stop ’em we shall be having ’em drive the whole lot of bullocks and cows right away into the plains, and never see a hoof again.”

  “What’s to be done, then?” whispered Bart, whose face was covered with a cold dew, while his cheeks were at fever heat.

  “Well, my lad, they seem to have found out the way easy enough by crawling over the cattle trail, and it’s a very unpleasant thing to do, but I suppose we shall either have to be robbed, or else we must stop ’em; so as the Doctor won’t like all our cattle to go, I’m going to stop ’em.”

  “It’s very horrible,” whispered Bart.

  “Horrid, my lad; so’s having your cattle and horses stole, for if they get one they’re bound to have t’other; so is being starved to death; and the worsest of all is being scalped, and that’s sure to come if we let them brutes go.”

  “But it is so horrible to shoot them, Joses,” panted Bart.

  “’Tis, my lad, so don’t you do it. Leave it to us. Hah! that’s a big stone down, and the cattle’s beginning to fidget. Now, Beaver, what do you say?”

  The Beaver answered with his rifle, which gave a sharp report, just as the moon shone out a little more clearly.

  “Hit!” said Joses, laconically, as they saw quite plainly the two Indians start back from the rocks right out into the clear moonlight, one of them uttering a fierce, hoarse yell, and staggering as if about to fall, when the other sprang forward and caught him by the chest, holding him up, and, as it was plain to see, forming of the body of his wounded companion a shield to protect himself from the bullets of their unseen assailants.

  “They must not go away and tell tales,” muttered Joses, as he took aim; but just then the interpreter’s rifle rang out, and the half-nude Indian turned partly round, so that they could see in white paint upon his breast, seeming to gleam horribly in the moonlight, the ghastly skull and cross-bones that seemed to have been adopted as the badge of the tribe. Then he fell back into the arms of his friend, who clasped his arms round him, and backed slowly, keeping the wounded man’s face to the firing party, while, as if mechanically, the injured savage kept step.

  Crack went the Beaver’s rifle again, and there was a dull thud telling of a hit, but still the two Indians retreated slowly.

  Crack! went Joses’ rifle, and he uttered a low growl.

  “I’ll swear I hit him, but I dunno whether it touched the t’other one—a cowardly skunk, to sneak behind his fellow like that.”

  Crack—crack—crack—crack! four rifles uttered their reports, which seemed to reverberate from the face of the mountain; and as the smoke rose slowly, and Bart could gaze at the moonlit plain, and try to read the meaning of the fierce yell of defiance that he had heard arise, he saw that the first Indian lay upon his back with the moon shining upon his ghastly, painted breast, while his companion was rapidly disappearing as he ran swiftly over the plain.

  The Beaver’s rifle rang out again, and he started up into a kneeling position, gazing after the object at which he had fired, while his fingers mechanically reloaded his piece. Then he uttered a low guttural cry of anger, and sank down into his former position.

  “Missed him, Beaver,” said Joses, quietly.

  “No,” was the sharp retort. “He was hit, but he will escape to his dogs of people.”

  This was a tremendous speech for the chief, who, however, seemed to be acquiring the English tongue with remarkable rapidity, the fact being that he had long known a great deal of English, but had been too proud to make use of it till he co
uld speak sufficiently well to make himself understood with ease, and therefore he had brought up the interpreter as a medium between him and his English friends.

  They watched through the rest of the night, after communicating to the Doctor the reason for the firing, but there was no fresh alarm. The moon rose higher, and shed a clear effulgence that seemed to make the plain as light as day, while the shadow of the mountain appeared to become black, and the ravines and cracks in its sides to be so many dense marks cut in solid silver.

  Daylight at last, with the silvery moon growing pale and the stars fading out. First a heavy grey, then a silvery light, then soft, roseate tints, followed by orange flecks far up in the east, and then one glorious, golden blaze to herald the sun, as the great orb slowly seemed to roll up over the edge of the plain, and bring with it life, and light, and hope.

  “Hurrah!” shouted Bart, as he rose from his cramped position in the rifle-pit. “Oh, Joses! my back! my legs! Ah, ah! Oh my! Do rub me! I’m so stiff I can hardly move.”

  “That’ll soon go off, my lad. There, I suppose most of us may go off duty now, for I can’t see any Injun out on the plains.”

  “Yes: hundreds!” said the Beaver, who had been shading his eyes and gazing attentively over the sunlit expanse of rocky landscape dotted with trees.

  “Where, Beaver?” said Joses.

  For answer the chief pointed right away, and both Joses and Bart tried to make out what he meant, but in vain.

  “Your eyes are younger than mine, Bart,” said Joses at last, gruffly. “I can’t see nothing—can you?”

  “No, Joses,” replied Bart. “I can see nothing but trees.”

  The Beaver smiled.

  “Ah, it’s all very well for you to laugh,” said Joses, bluntly, “but you’ve got eyes that see round corners of hills, and through clumps of wood and bits of mountain. I never saw such eyes in my life.”

  “My eyes will do,” said the Beaver, quietly. “The Apachés are over yonder. They will be on the watch to carry off the cattle or to kill us if they can.”

  “Yes, that’s it,” said Joses; “if they can.”

  Without another word, the Beaver and half-a-dozen of his followers went down the slope, and climbed the stone gateway, to leap into the plain, where, without a word of instruction, they bore off the body of the fallen Indian, and buried it down in the rift where the other two had been laid, after which they returned to partake of the morning meal that had been prepared—fires being lit in various crevices and chasms off the zigzag way; and this meal being partaken of in the bright morning sunshine, seemed to make the dangers of the night appear trifling, and the spirits of the people rose.

  In fact, there was no time for despondency. Every man knew when he came out to adventure for silver that he would have to run the risk of encounters with the Indians, and nothing could be more satisfactory than their position. For they had a stronghold where they could set half the Indian nations at defiance, while the savages could not hinder their mining operations, which could be continued on the mountain if they were invested, and at the edge of the canyon or down below, where there was nothing to fear.

  The greatest danger was with respect to the cattle, which had to be drawn out to pasture along near the side of the lake, and this was done at once, every available man mounting his horse and forming guard, so as to protect the cattle and pasture his horse at the same time.

  This was carried on for some days, and a careful watch was kept out towards the plain; but though bodies of Indians were seen manoeuvring in the distance, none approached the mountain, whose flag waved out defiance; and as night after night passed without alarm, there were some of the party sanguine enough to say that the Indians had had their lesson and would come no more.

  “What do you say to that, Beaver?” said Joses, laying his hand upon the chiefs shoulder, and looking him in the face.

  “Indian dog of Apaché never forgives,” he replied quietly. “They may come to-day—to-morrow—next moon. Who can tell when the Apaché will come and strike? But he will come.”

  “There, Master Bart, hear that!” said Joses. “How about going down into the canyon to spear salmon now?”

  “The young chief, Bart, can go and spear salmon in the river,” said the Beaver, whose face lit up at the prospect of engaging in something more exciting than watching cattle and taking care that they did not stray too far. “The Beaver and his young men will take care the Apachés do not come without warning.”

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty Two.

  Spearing Salmon under Difficulties.

  The undertaking of the chief was considered sufficient, and as a change of food would be very acceptable to the little mining colony, the Doctor made no difficulty about the matter, so the Beaver sent out scouts into the plain to give the earliest notice of the appearance of danger, and to supplement this, the Doctor posted Harry, their English follower, in the best position on the mountain, with the powerful glass, so that he might well sweep the plain, and give an earlier notice of the enemy’s coming than even the Indians could supply.

  The Beaver looked very hard at the telescope, and said that it was very great medicine, evidently feeling for it a high degree of respect. Then certain other arrangements having been made, including the choice of half-a-dozen of the Mexican greasers to carry the salmon that Bart said laughingly they had not yet caught, the fishing party, which included Bart, Joses, the Beaver, the interpreter, and six more Indians, all started for the patch of forest.

  They were all well-armed, and, in addition to their weapons, the Indians had contrived some ingeniously formed three-pronged spears, keen as lancets, and well barbed, ready for use in the war against the fish.

  The deep rift leading down to the canyon was soon found, and this time Bart approached cautiously, lest there should be another of the rattle-tailed snakes lurking in a crevice of the rock; but this time they had nothing of the kind to encounter. A magnificent deer, though, sprang from a dense thicket, and Bart’s rifle, like that of Joses, was at his shoulder on the instant.

  “No, no!” cried the Beaver, eagerly; and they lowered the pieces.

  “Ah!” cried Bart, in a disappointed tone, “I had, just got a good sight of him. I know I should not have missed.”

  “The Beaver’s right, Master Bart,” said Joses, quietly. “If we fired, the sound might travel to the Apachés, and bring ’em down upon us. Best not, my lad. We’ll get the salmon without our guns.”

  They entered the “chimney,” and, acquainted now with its peculiarities, the party descended much more quickly than on the previous occasion. The way was clearer, too, the vines and tangled growth having been cleared at the first descent, when pieces of rock were removed, and others placed in clefts and cracks to facilitate the walking, so that, following the same plan again, there was a possibility of the slope becoming in time quite an easy means of communication between the canyon and the plain.

  They reached the bottom in safety, and probably to make sure that there should be no such accident as that to the Doctor occur unseen, the chief took the precaution of planting the party on rocks out in the stream well in view one of the other, and just where the fish would pass. He then set a couple of his men to watch for danger, and the spearing began.

  “Now, Master Bart,” said Joses, “sling your rifle as I do, and let’s see what you can do in spearing salmon.”

  “Hadn’t we better leave our rifles ashore there, under the trees?” replied Bart.

  “Yes, my lad, if you want to be taken at a disadvantage. Why, Master Bart, I should as soon think of leaving an arm or a leg ashore as my rifle. No, my lad, there’s no peace times out here; so no matter how inconvenient it may be, sling your piece, and be always prepared for the worst.”

  “Oh, all right, Joses,” replied Bart, pettishly, and he slung his rifle.

  “Oh, it’s of no use for you to be huffy, my lad,” growled Joses. “You never know when danger’s coming. I knowed a young fello
w once up in the great north plains. He’d been across the Alkali Desert in a bad time, and had been choked with the heated dust and worried with the nasty salty stuff that had filled his eyes and ears, so that when he got to a branch of one of the rivers up there that was bubbling over rocks and stones just as this may be, and—ah, stoopid! Missed him!” cried Joses, after making a tremendous stab at a salmon.

  “Well, Joses?”

  Well! no, it wasn’t well. He thought he must have a good swim, and so he took off his clothes, laid his rifle up against the trunk of a big pine-tree, and in he went, and began splashing about in the beautiful cool clear water, which seemed to soften his skin, and melt off quite a nasty salt crust that had made him itchy and almost mad for days.

  Well, this was so good that he swam farther and farther, till he swam right across to where the stream ran fast right under the steep rock, not so big as this, but still so big and steep that a man could not have climbed up it at the best of times, and—“Got him, my lad?” he exclaimed, as he saw Bart make a vigorous thrust with his spear.

  “Yes, I have him,” cried Bart, excitedly, as he struggled with the vigorous fish, a large one of fourteen or fifteen pounds’ weight, one which he successfully drew upon the rocks, and after gloating over its silvery beauty, carried to the shore, returning just in time to see Joses strike down his fish-spear, and drag out a fish a little larger than the first one caught.

  “That’s a fine one, Master Bart,” growled Joses, as he set off to step from stone to stone to the bank, while Bart, eager and excited, stood with poised spear, gazing intently down into the clear depths for the next beauty that should come within his reach.