Chapter 3

We passed through an interesting country, filled with wind-carven pillars and minarets, eroded shelves and caverns, and lunched at noonday beside a dozen boiling sulphur springs. We also passed Cañoncito, the little village which was the home of José Cordova.

As we came in sight of the tinned spires of the church at Jemez, we heard a distinct murmur, and halted at once. In a moment the murmur swelled into an unmistakable Indian war-whoop. It was plainly evident the Dominicans had arrived before us.

As soon as I heard the war-whoop I told Sergeant Cunningham to bring up the men as rapidly as possible, sticking to the travelled road, and, accompanied by the agent and Corporal Frank, I put spurs to my horse and dashed towards the town.

Our route was through the cultivated land, while that of the soldiers was on the hard ground along the foot-hills. Ours was in a direct line, over deep, soft earth, frequently crossed by irrigating ditches, while theirs, although nearly treble the distance, was over firm soil without a break. We struck directly for the church spires, which I knew rose from the central plaza.

Often we plunged down the banks of _acequias_, carrying avalanches of soil with us into two or three feet of water, to make a difficult scramble up the crumbling wall of the opposite side; and as we neared the pueblo, the louder grew the discordant yells of the Dominicans.

As I reached the border of the plantation I found between me and the road, which here entered the town, a cactus hedge about five feet high, with no passage through it except at a considerable distance to the right. The agent veered away to the opening, but Corporal Frank kept Sancho close behind me, and I gave my good thoroughbred his head and rode sharply at the hedge, cleared it at a bound, receiving but a few scratches from the cactus spines. Turning my head as I came into the road, I saw Frank come through like a trooper and join me.

Clear of the hedge, I found myself at the foot of a narrow street which passed between two tall adobe buildings and entered the plaza near the centre of its western side. I took it at a run, and when half-way through saw directly before its inner end, facing the north, a group of old, gray-haired Navajos standing alone with their arms folded, and holding their blankets firmly about their breasts, while in their immediate front were some one hundred mounted Indians, painted and ornamented in true aboriginal warrior style.

On the terraced fronts of the houses and their flat roofs, and along the three sides of the square, seemed to be gathered the entire population of the town, looking passively on.

Before I had more than taken in the situation, a rattling discharge of rifles came from the direction of the Dominicans, and the old men fell in a heap to the ground. Covered with dust and mud, our horses reeking with foam, Corporal Frank and I burst through the crowd of spectators on the west side of the plaza, and gained the open space just as the firing-party was advancing with gleaming knives and wild yells to complete the tragedy by scalping the slain.

Raising my right hand I shouted, in Spanish, "Stop where you are!"

Frank had unslung his carbine and was holding it by the small of the stock in his right hand, the barrel resting in his left, looking calmly and resolutely at the hesitating Indians. The blood of three generations of soldierly ancestors was thrilling his veins with a resolution to act well in any emergency which might arise.

The Pueblos halted, and at the same moment a group of eighteen women and nearly three times as many children, some of them in arms, who had been reserved--as I afterwards learned--for later shooting, ran into the space and clung to my feet, stirrups, and the mane and tail of my horse, entreating with eyes and voices for protection.

The war-cries had ceased and the Dominicans had gathered in an angry and gesticulating group, when Sergeant Cunningham and the rest of the men appeared on foot, running into the plaza from a side street, and formed in line before us.

The massacre ended with the death of the old men. Aided by the agent and the Catholic priest of the pueblo I succeeded in impressing upon the Jemez warriors that they must discountenance any further hostile demonstrations of the Santo Dominicans, and told the latter that unless they promptly withdrew and departed for their own reservation I should punish them for their recent conduct. They at once sullenly departed.

That evening, by the light of a brilliant moon, the dead Navajos were buried upon a hill-top overlooking the town, amid the wailing of their women and much ceremonious demonstration by the Jemez people, and Frank and I retired for the night to the house of the hospitable priest.

Early the following morning I held an inspection of the mules and horses, and finding the wheel and swing spans were much exhausted by the unaccustomed gait they had maintained in the forced march from the valleys, I determined to give them a day's rest before making the return trip. Finding Sergeant Cunningham's, Frank's, and my own horses none the worse for their exertions, I concluded that we three would return at once to camp. I placed Corporal Duffy in charge of the party, and told him after one day had passed to return by way of the hot springs.

Instead of returning by the route we came, the sergeant, Frank, and I were to take a shorter and rougher one pointed out to us by Padre Gutierrez. This trail was almost as straight as an arrow, but led through a section of the country over which we had not scouted. At half-past nine o'clock the three of us started, Vic bounding and barking at my horse's head.

IV

IN A NAVAJO TRAP

Six miles from Jemez our road, which, after leaving the cultivated valley of the Pueblos had narrowed to a path, entered the forest and ran along the side of a small brook, which it continued to follow for several miles, and then rose gradually to the side of a range of hills. We were walking our animals along the side of this acclivity, at a considerable distance above the brook on our left, their hoofs making no noise in the soft, black earth, when I was startled by the braying of an ass somewhere in the ravine.

Sergeant Cunningham and Corporal Frank threw themselves quickly from their saddles and held the horses by the bits to prevent them from responding to the greeting, and I quickly sought a place from which I could make an observation.

We were in a clump of evergreen trees which commanded a view of the ravine and obscured us from sight in all directions. Looking across the ravine, I caught a glimpse of a party of Indians a little beyond the brook. Through my glass I made them out to be a party of twenty-seven Navajos, sitting about a camp-fire eating their dinner.

As many ponies were grazing near, and a mule and burro. From certain peculiar markings I had observed the day Cordova joined me in the valleys, I had no difficulty in recognizing the last two animals to be his property. Packs were lying near the fire, showing that the captured animals were being used as beasts of burden.

All this time I had entirely overlooked the presence of my dog Vic. Had I thought of her in season, it would have been easy to have kept her close at my heels; but I had left her free to wander, not thinking of any threatening danger.

Suddenly I heard a chorus of grunts from the Indians, and looking in their direction I saw Vic stand for an instant with her forefeet on a prostrate log, look questioningly at the savages, and then drop down into the furze and disappear.

The sight of a white man's dog, wearing a brilliant metallic collar, produced an electrical effect. Instantly the redmen sprang to their feet, seized their arms, and began saddling and bridling their ponies.

"Vic has betrayed us, sergeant," I said. "We must get out of here as quickly as possible."

As we sprang into our saddles and regained the trail Vic came with a bound before us, and I immediately gave her positive orders to keep close at our heels. We rode as fast as it was possible to do without making a noise, hoping that we might get a considerable distance away before we were discovered. We had not proceeded far, however, when a yell announced that we were seen.

As we galloped on we saw that it was impossible for the Indians to cross to our side of the ravine. Every mile we passed the path rose higher and the sides of the stream grew more precipitous. The Indians were pursuing a path parallel to ours and about half a mile in our rear. What was the nature of the country ahead we did not know. The fact that they were pursuing, and with such eagerness, seemed to indicate they knew of some advantage to be gained farther on.

On and on we rode, I in advance, the sergeant next, and Frank behind. The trail wound through the trees and clumps of underbrush, with occasional openings through which we could catch glimpses of our eager pursuers. The prospect appeared exceedingly gloomy.

As we galloped on I noticed at last, through a rift in the wood a considerable distance in advance, an eminence or butte which lifted its summit nearly three hundred feet skyward, and which presented on the side towards us an almost perpendicular wall. When we approached it we saw a neat log-cabin nestling under its overarching brow. We dismounted, led our panting and utterly exhausted animals into the cabin, closed the doors, and went to the windows with our rifles.

The cabin was about thirty by twenty feet in area, and stood with its northern end close against the perpendicular wall of the butte, with an overhanging cliff a hundred feet above it. If a stone had been dropped from the sheltering cliff it would have fallen several feet away from the cabin's southern wall.

At the end of the cabin farthest from the butte the ground upon which it stood broke off perpendicularly twenty feet downward, to a spring--the source of the brook we had been following since we left Jemez. The only way to cross from one trail to the other, except by going several miles down the brook or to the north end of the butte, was, therefore, through the cabin, and for this purpose a door had been placed in each side. The cabin could be approached only on the east and west sides, and was unassailable at its north and south ends.

Each wall contained a small window, except the one which rested against the butte, and there a wide, stone fireplace had been built. Three men with plenty of rations and ammunition could make a good defence. Water could be had by lowering a bucket or canteen from the southern window to the spring, twenty-four feet below its sill.

The Indians had discovered that we had found shelter from their pursuit and for the present were safe, and all but five, who soon afterwards appeared in the edge of the forest to the east, had joined the main party to the west of us. They showed great respect for our place of refuge and rifles, and kept well out of range. The sergeant's and my Springfield rifle could throw a bullet farther and could be loaded more rapidly than any rifles in their possession, and Frank with his Spencer could fire about twenty balls to our one.

We removed the saddles and bridles from our animals, and, hitching them in the corners each side of the fireplace, began a discussion of our prospects.

"If we could keep a couple of fires going before the doors during the night, sir," said the sergeant, "we might keep them away."

"I am afraid a fire would be of greater advantage to them than to us," I replied; "we should have to expose ourselves every time we replenished it. I wonder if the roof is covered with earth? It is flat."

"I'll tell you in half a minute, sir," said Frank, and entering the fireplace he proceeded to ascend the wide-mouthed chimney by stepping on projecting stones of which it was built. In a moment he called down to me, "Yes, sir; it is covered with about two feet of earth."

"All right then. If we can get pine enough to keep a blaze going then we will have one. A fire on the roof will illuminate everything about us and leave our windows and doorways in darkness. It will aid our aim and confuse the Indians."

We set to work at once and pulled down all the bunks, and with large stones from the fireplace succeeded in breaking into fragments the pine puncheons and posts of which they were made. Then Sergeant Cunningham ascended the chimney and tore away one side of the part which projected above the roof--the side looking in the direction opposite the precipice. This would enable one of us to stand in the top and replenish the fire, and at the same time remain concealed from the enemy. As we could be fired upon from only two directions, the fire tender would be safe.

Fortunately, Padre Gutierrez's housekeeper had put up a lunch sufficient to last us, including Vic, for three days, and water could be drawn easily through the southern window with a canteen and lariat.

"I'm afraid those chaps 'll get us in the end, sir," observed the sergeant. "Of course we can eat horse-meat for a while after our victuals are gone, but we are three and they are twenty-seven--we are prisoners and they are free."

"Very true, sergeant," I replied, "but something may turn up in our favor. The Jemez party will reach camp day after to-morrow, and when it learns we are not there we shall be looked up."

"If another party of Navajos don't jump them, sir."

"Of course, the chances are against us, sergeant, but let us keep up our spirits and make a good fight."

"I'll do my best, sir, as I always have done, but this is a beastly hole to be caught in."

"But why don't you send Vic for help, Mr. Duncan?" asked Frank.

"Laddie, I believe you have saved us! Thank you for the suggestion. We'll put the little girl's education to a practical test."

"What! Going to send her to Jemez for the men?" asked Sergeant Cunningham.

"No; I hardly think I could make her understand our wishes in that direction, but there is no doubt she can be sent to camp. She has done that many times."

"Yes, sir, she'll go to the valley," said Frank. "You know I sent her with a message to you from San Antonio Valley, six miles. I wonder how far camp is from here?"

"'Bout nine miles," replied the sergeant; "but she'll do it, I think. Look at her!"

Vic had come forward, and sat looking intelligently from one to the other of us while this discussion ran on.

"All right, little girl," I said, patting and smoothing her silky coat, "you shall have a chance to help us after dusk. Go and lie down now."

The dog went to a corner and, lying down on Frank's saddle-blanket, appeared to sleep; and while Corporal Frank took my place at a window I wrote a message to Sergeant Mulligan at the camp, describing our desperate situation and requesting him to send a detachment to our rescue. I also prepared a flat, pine stick, and wrote upon it, in plain letters, "Examine her collar." I intended she should carry the stick in her mouth, as she had hitherto carried articles and messages, fearing she would not understand she was to go on an errand unless all the conditions of her education were observed.

During that day the Navajos simply showed their presence occasionally among the trees, far away on either flank. We once heard the rapid strokes of an axe, as of chopping, and wondered what it could mean. Nothing further happened till dusk. Then I called Vic and attached the note to her collar, wrapped in a piece of my handkerchief.

"I think, sergeant," I said, "we had better send our message before it gets darker and the Navajos close up nearer or the corporal lights his fire."

"Yes, she can't leave any too soon, sir, I think. It's going to be pokerish work for us before morning, and I shall be mighty glad to see a few of old Company F appear round that rock."

After fastening the note securely in the dog's collar, I placed the stick in her mouth and, opening the eastern door, said, "Now, little Vic, take that stick to the sergeant--go!"

She turned from the doorway, crossed the room, and dropped the stick at Sergeant Cunningham's feet. The sergeant stooped, and placing his hand under her chin raised her head upward and laid his bronze cheek affectionately upon it. "Well, Vicky," he said, "there is but one sergeant in the world to you, and he is here, isn't he?"

"That's so, sir," exclaimed Corporal Frank, addressing me. "We never sent her to anybody but you, the sergeant, and the cook."

"True enough. I'll have to send her to the cook--the only one now in camp to whom she has borne messages. As he is the dispenser of fine bones and dainties, and she has had nothing to eat since morning, perhaps it is as well he is to receive this message. Here, Vic," placing the chip once more in her mouth, "take this stick to the cook--go!"

The setter looked at me an instant, then at the sergeant and corporal, walked to the door, looked out, and then glanced questioningly at me.

"Yes, little one; the cook--go!"

She bounded through the doorway and turned the corner of the butte at a run, bearing our summons to our comrades at Los Valles Grandes.

For some time after the departure of Vic the sergeant and I stood at our windows and gloomily watched the darkness deepen in the woods. Frank looked out of the window above the spring and was also silent. I was disposed to put off the lighting of our fire upon the roof as long as it appeared safe to do so, in order to husband our fuel. The animals, disappointed of the forage usually furnished them at this hour, stamped impatiently and nosed disdainfully the stale straw and pine plumes which we had emptied from the bunks and which were now scattered over the floor.

It was during a momentary lull of this continuous noise that I heard a crushing sound as of a heavy wheel rolling over twigs and gravel, but was unable to guess its meaning.

Fearing that further delay to light our fire might bring disaster upon us, I told Corporal Frank to kindle it. He ascended the chimney, lighted a few splinters of pitch-pine and placed them upon the roof, and as soon as they were well lighted added to them half a dozen billets of wood which Sergeant Cunningham passed up to him. Soon a brilliant blaze was leaping upward, and, being reflected strongly by the white sandstone of the overhanging cliff, lighted the whole space about the cabin.

As soon as Frank descended to the floor we gazed long and anxiously out of the windows. Everything about us was now plainly visible to our eyes, and we felt sure our movements could not be seen by the Navajos. To the east all was silent, and for a long while we saw nothing in that direction to suggest a lurking foe. To the west we could see no enemy, but the same mysterious sound of crushing and grinding came to our ears. What could it be, and what did it threaten? Adjusting my field-glass I looked from my window in the direction of the puzzling sound, and on the farther edge of the opening, near the wood, saw a log about three feet in diameter and twenty-five or more in length slowly rolling towards us, propelled by some unseen force.

Passing the glass to the sergeant, I said: "The Indians seem to be rolling a log in our direction. What do you think of it?"

"I think it's easy to understand, sir," replied the sergeant, after a long look. "That log is a movable breastwork, which can be rolled to our door."

"True, sergeant. Probably a dozen or more warriors are lying behind it and rolling it forward. Rather a black prospect for us if we cannot stop it!"

We all three gathered at the western window, and for some moments watched the slow approach of the moving breastwork.

V

A SIEGE AND AN AMBUSCADE

We continued to watch long and anxiously the slowly rolling log. Not a glimpse of the motive power could be obtained, but it ground and crushed its way along with ominous certainty, straight in our direction.

Just as I had come to the conclusion that assistance could not arrive in time, the log stopped. I looked through my glass and saw the cause.

"Sergeant," I exclaimed, "the log has struck a rock! Open the door and draw a bead on it! Don't let a man leap over it to remove the stone! Corporal, guard the east window!"

The sergeant stood ready at the open door. All the efforts of the prostrate men behind the log had no effect, except to swing the end farthest from the obstacle slightly ahead.

"There seems to be nothing for them to do but to remove the stone. Keep a sharp eye on the log, sergeant!"

I had hardly spoken when a sudden discharge of rifles ran irregularly along the length of the log, and under cover of the fire and smoke a stalwart warrior leaped over, raised the stone, and had borne it nearly to the top, when Sergeant Cunningham's rifle spoke sharply.

The stone dropped on our side; the Indian fell forward, with his arms extended towards his friends, who pulled him over the log, and he was screened from our sight. The volley of the Navajos did us no harm.

Corporal Frank replenished the fire on our roof from time to time, and our vigilant watch went on. At last the sergeant, who still stood at the open door, exclaimed, "Lieutenant, the stone is moving! It's dropping into the ground!"

"It's gone, and here comes our fate," I said. "They must have dug under the log with their knives and sunk the stone."

"Yes, sir, and they're safe to reach the cabin door and roast us out."

"If there were two or three more stones in the way, sergeant, the delay they would cause might serve us until help comes."

"I'll run out there with one, Mr. Duncan," said Frank.

"No, laddie," replied the sergeant, "that's a duty for me. I'll drop a couple there in a minute."

"And when you return, sergeant, I will drop two more," said I.

We went quickly to work to carry out our plan. The corporal once more mended the fire, and then we selected from the loose rubbish which had been torn from the top of the chimney several large-sized stones.

Removing his shoes, the sergeant, with my assistance, raised two big stones to his breast, and stood in the doorway with them clasped firmly in his arms. I took the revolvers in my hands, whispered the word, and he started out at a rapid walk, setting his feet down carefully and without noise. He dropped the stones, one before the other, without attracting attention, and regained the cabin without a shot being fired on either side.

Now it was my turn, and I went beyond the place where he had dropped his last stone.

At that instant an alarm was shouted from the distant wood, and an Indian raised his head above the log and fired. The bullet struck the falling rock, and sent a shower of stinging splinters into my face. I turned and fled.

With the discharge of the Indian's rifle Sergeant Cunningham and Corporal Frank opened a rapid fusillade with the revolvers, which successfully covered my retreat to the cabin; but we knew that our last chance at stone-dropping was past.

Several terribly long hours had crept past since we saw Vic turn the butte on her errand to the valleys. Judging by the time it had taken the Navajos to bore a tunnel under their log and undermine the first trigging-stone, we estimated that two more hours must pass before the four obstructions we had placed in their way could be removed, unless they took some more speedy method.

It was quite nine miles to camp, and the dog could easily reach it in about an hour. If she had arrived, help should by this time be fairly on the way; but if she had been killed by the besiegers before she reached the north end of the butte, or had been torn in pieces by the wolves!

Should the log once reach our door, we could not hope to do more than make the price of our lives dear to the enemy.