by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR A TRAIL.
"Our hopes of being able to get away from the oasis valley were thuscrushed in a moment. The horse could not of himself draw the wagon, andhow could we travel without it? Even could we have crossed the Deserton foot, he would hardly suffice to carry our food and water. But forus to pass one of those terrible stretches of wilderness--by theSpaniards called `jornadas'--on foot was out of the question. Even thestrongest and hardiest of the trappers often perish in such attempts;and how should we succeed--one of us being a delicate female--and havingtwo children that must be carried in our arms? The thing was plainlyimpossible; and as I reflected upon it, the thoughts of itsimpossibility filled me with despair.
"But were we never to escape from that lonely spot? What prospect wasbefore us of ever being able to leave it? No human beings might come toour relief. Perhaps no human foot except our own had ever made itstrack in that remote valley! This was not at all improbable; and indeeda party of hunters or Indians, on their journey across the Desert, mightvisit the mountain without discovering the valley,--so strangely was ithollowed out of the plain.
"I had but little hope that any caravan or party of traders would passthat way. The Desert that surrounded us was a sufficient barrieragainst that; besides, I knew that the mountain was far to the southwardof the trails usually followed by the prairie traders. There was butone hope that I could cling to with any degree of confidence: that was,that the Desert might not stretch so far to the south or west as itappeared to do; and by breaking up the wagon, and making a light cartout of it, we might still be able to cross it. I was determined,therefore, first to go alone, and explore the route in both thesedirections. If it should appear practicable, I could return, and putthis design into execution.
"Next morning, having loaded my horse with provisions, and as much wateras he could well carry, I took an affectionate leave of my wife andlittle ones; and, commending them to the protection of God, I mounted,and rode off toward the west. I headed in this direction for a day anda half, and still the waste stretched to the horizon before me. I hadmade but a short journey, for the path led through ridges and hillocksof moving sand, and my horse sank to the knees at every step. In theafternoon of the second day, I turned back from the attempt, fearfulthat I should not be able to regain the valley. But I succeeded atlength,--both myself and horse almost dead with thirst on arrivingthere.
"I found my little party all well, as I had left them; but I had broughtthem no glad tidings, and I sat down in the midst of them with a feelingof despair.
"My next reconnoissance was to be to the south; and I only waited untilmy jaded horse might be sufficiently rested for another journey.
"Another day passed, and I was sitting upon a log near the fire,reflecting upon the dark future that lay before us. I was filled withdespondency, and took no note of what was passing around. When I hadsat in this way for some time, I felt a light hand touching me upon theshoulder; and, looking up, I saw that Mary had seated herself upon thelog beside me, while a smile of cheerfulness and composure was playingupon her features.
"I saw that she had something in her mind that she was about tocommunicate to me.
"`What is it, Mary?' I asked.
"`Is not this a lovely spot?' said she, waving her hand so as toindicate the whole scene by which we were surrounded. My eyes, alongwith hers, roamed for a moment over the fair picture, and I could not dootherwise than answer in the affirmative. It was, indeed, a lovelyspot. The open glade, with the golden sun streaming down upon its greenherbage, and vivid flowers--the varied tints of the forest frondage, nowdressed in the brilliant lively of autumn--the cliffs beyond,contrasting with it in colour from their lining of dark-green cedars andpines--and, higher still, the snow-white summit, as it towered againstthe blue sky, sparkling under the sun, and lending a delicious coolnessto the air--all these objects formed a panorama that was indeed lovelyto look upon. And there were sweet sounds falling upon the ear--themurmur of distant waters--the light rustling of leaves, stirred by asoft breeze that blew past laden with the aromatic odours of buds andflowers--the music of birds that sang to each other in the groves, oruttered their joyous calls as they flapped their bright wings over theopen glade.
"`Yes, Mary,' I replied, `it is indeed a lovely spot.'
"`Then, Robert,' said she, with a look of strange meaning, `why shouldwe be so anxious to leave it?'
"`Why?' I repeated mechanically after her, wondering at the question.
"`Yes, why?' continued my wife. `We are in search of a home--why notmake _this_ our home? Where can we find a better? How know we that inthat land whither we were going, we may find one so good--if, indeed,they give us a home at all?'
"`But, dear Mary,' said I, `how could you live away from the world--youwho have been brought up in the midst of society and its refinements?'
"`The world!' replied she, `what care we for the world? Have we not ourchildren with us? They will be our world, and we can be society enoughfor each other. Moreover,' continued she, `remember how little we havein that world,--remember how it has used us so far. Have we been happyin it? No, I have enjoyed more happiness here than I ever did in themidst of that society, of which you speak. Think, Robert! reflectbefore we rashly leave this lovely spot--this sweet home--into which Ican almost believe the hand of God has guided us.'
"`But, Mary, you have not thought of the difficulties, the hardships towhich such a life may expose you.'
"`I have,' she replied. `I have thought of all these while you wereabsent. I can see no difficulty in our procuring a subsistence here.The Creator has bountifully stocked this singular oasis. We may easilyobtain all the necessaries of life--for its luxuries I care but little.We can live without them.'
"Her words produced a strange effect upon me. Up to that moment theidea of _remaining_ in the oasis had never entered my mind. I had onlyoccupied myself with speculating on the means by which we could escapefrom it. Now, however, a sudden change came over my thoughts; and Ibegan to think seriously of following the counsel of my self-sacrificingcompanion. The harsh treatment we had received at the hands ofcivilised man--buffeted about by ill fortune--continually deceived, andat every step becoming poorer and more dependent, all had their effectin blunting that desire I should otherwise have felt to get back to theworld. I was not averse then to the idea, but rather ready to fall atonce into the plan.
"I remained silent for a length of time, casting over in my mind thepossibility of our carrying out such a scheme--the chances of our beingable to procure subsistence. It was evident there was plenty of game inthe valley. We had occasionally seen deer of different species, and wehad also discovered the tracks of other animals. There were pheasantsand turkeys, too, in abundance. We had our rifles, and by good fortunea large stock of ammunition--for, besides my own, Harry and Frank hadpowder-horns containing nearly a pound each. But this in time would beexpended--what then? Oh, what then? Before that I should find out someother mode of capturing our game. Besides, the valley might containmany other things intended to sustain life--roots and fruits. We hadalready found some indications of this; and Mary, who was anaccomplished botanist, could tell the uses of them all. We should findboth food and water. What more could we ask from the hand of Nature?
"As I ran these thoughts through my mind, the project became everymoment more feasible. In fact, I grew quite as enthusiastic about it asmy wife.
"Cudjo, Frank, and Harry, were brought into our council; and they, too,received the idea with delight. The faithful Cudjo was contented, as healleged, with any lot, so long as he might share it with us. As for theboys they were in raptures with the thought of such a free wild life.
"We did not fully resolve upon anything for that day. We weredetermined not to act rashly, but to reflect seriously upon it, and torenew our deliberations on the following morning.
"During that night, however, a circumstance occurred, which a
t oncefixed my resolution to remain in the valley--at least until someunforeseen chance might enable us to leave it with a better prospect ofsafety."