The Scalp Hunters Part 11

In all my life I never suffered ennui as when cooped up in this semi-barbarous town, and almost confined within the walls of its filthy Fonda. I felt it the more that I had so lately enjoyed the company of such free, jovial spirits, and I could fancy them in their bivouacs on the banks of the Del Norte, carousing, laughing, or listening to some wild mountain story.

G.o.de shared my feelings, and became as desponding as myself. The light humour of the voyageur disappeared. The song of the Canadian boatman was heard no longer; but, in its place, the "sacre" and English exclamations were spluttered plentifully, and hurled at everything Mexican. I resolved at length to put an end to our sufferings.

"This life will never do, G.o.de," said I, addressing my compagnon.

"Ah! monsieur, nevare! nevare it vill do. Ah! ver doll. It is like von a.s.semblee of le Quaker."

"I am determined to endure it no longer."

"But what can monsieur do? How, capitaine?"

"By leaving this accursed place, and that to-morrow."

"But is monsieur fort? strongs beau-coup? strongs to ride?"

"I will risk it, G.o.de. If I break down, there are other towns on the river where we can halt. Anywhere better than here."

"C'est vrai, capitaine. Beautiful village down the river. Albuquerque; Tome: ver many village. Mon Dieu! all better, Santa Fe is one camp of tief. Ver good for us go, monsieur; ver good."

"Good or not, G.o.de, I am going. So make your preparations to-night, for I will leave in the morning before sunrise."

"It will be von grand plaisir to makes ready." And the Canadian ran from the room, snapping his fingers with delight.

I had made up my mind to leave Santa Fe at any rate. Should my strength, yet but half restored, hold out, I would follow, and if possible overtake the caravan. I knew it could make but short journeys over the deep sand roads of the Del Norte. Should I not succeed in coming up with it, I could halt in Albuquerque or El Paso, either of which would offer me a residence at least as agreeable as the one I was leaving.

My surgeon endeavoured to dissuade me from setting out. He represented that I was in a most critical condition, my wound far from being cicatrised. He set forth in most eloquent terms the dangers of fever, of gangrene, of haemorrhage. He saw I was obstinate, and concluded his monitions by presenting his bill. It amounted to the modest sum of one hundred dollars! It was an extortion. What could I do? I stormed and protested. The Mexican threatened me with "Governor's" justice. G.o.de swore in French, Spanish, English, and Indian. It was all to no purpose. I saw that the bill would have to be paid, and I paid it, though with indifferent grace.

The leech disappeared, and the landlord came next. He, like the former, made earnest entreaty to prevent me from setting forth. He offered a variety of reasons to detain me.

"Do not go; for your life, senor, do not!"

"And why, good Jose?" I inquired.

"Oh, senor, los Indios bravos! los Navajoes! carambo!"

"But I am not going into the Indian country. I travel down the river, through the towns of New Mexico."

"Ah! senor! the towns! no hay seguridad. No, no; there is safety nowhere from the Navajo. Hay novedades: news this very day. Polvidera; pobre polvidera! It was attacked on Sunday last. On Sunday, senor, when they were all en la misa. Pues, senor, the robbers surrounded the church; and oh, carambo! they dragged out the poor people--men, women and children! Pues, senor; they kill the men: and the women: Dios de mi alma!"

"Well, and the women?"

"Oh, senor! they are all gone; they were carried to the mountains by the savages. Pobres mugeres!"

"It is a sad story, truly; but the Indians, I understand, only make these forays at long intervals. I am not likely to meet with them now.

At all events, Jose, I have made up my mind to run the risk."

"But, senor," continued Jose, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, "there are other ladrones besides the Indians: white ones, muchos, muchissimos! Ay, indeed, mi amo, white robbers; blancos, blancos y muy feos, carrai!"

And Jose closed his fingers as if clutching some imaginary object.

This appeal to my fears was in vain. I answered it by pointing to my revolvers and rifle, and to the well-filled belt of my henchman G.o.de.

When the Mexican Boniface saw that I was determined to rob him of all the guests he had in his house, he retired sullenly, and shortly after returned with his bill. Like that of the medico, it was out of all proportion; but I could not help myself, and paid it.

By grey dawn I was in my saddle; and, followed by G.o.de and a couple of heavily packed mules, I rode out of the ill-favoured town, and took the road for the Rio Abajo.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE DEL NORTE.

For days we journey down the Del Norte. We pa.s.s through numerous villages, many of them types of Santa Fe. We cross the zequias and irrigating ca.n.a.ls, and pa.s.s along fields of bright green maize plants.

We see vineyards and grand haciendas. These appear richer and more prosperous as we approach the southern part of the province, the Rio Abajo.

In the distance, both east and west, we descry dark mountains rolled up against the sky. These are the twin ranges of the Rocky Mountains.

Long spurs trend towards the river, and in places appear to close up the valley. They add to the expression of many a beautiful landscape that opens before us as we move onward.

We see picturesque costumes in the villages and along the highways: men dressed in the chequered serape or the striped blankets of the Navajoes; conical sombreros with broad brims; calzoneros of velveteen, with their rows of s.h.i.+ning "castletops" and fastened at the waist by the jaunty sash. We see mangas and tilmas, and men wearing the sandal, as in Eastern lands. On the women we observe the graceful rebozo, the short nagua, and the embroidered chemisette.

We see rude implements of husbandry: the creaking carreta, with its block wheels; the primitive plough of the forking tree-branch, scarcely scoring the soil; the horn-yoked oxen; the goad; the clumsy hoe in the hands of the peon serf: these are all objects that are new and curious to our eyes, and that indicate the lowest order of agricultural knowledge.

Along the roads we meet numerous atajos, in charge of their arrieros.

We observe the mules, small, smooth, light-limbed, and vicious. We glance at the heavy alparejas and bright worsted apishamores. We notice the tight wiry mustangs, ridden by the arrieros; the high-peaked saddles and hair bridles; the swarth faces and pointed beards of the riders; the huge spurs that tinkle at every step; the exclamations, "Hola, mula!

malraya! vaya!" We notice all these, and they tell us we are journeying in the land of the Hispano-American.

Under other circ.u.mstances these objects would have interested me. At that time, they appeared to me like the pictures of a panorama, or the changing scenes of a continuous dream. As such have they left their impressions on my memory. I was under the incipient delirium of fever.

It was as yet only incipient; nevertheless, it distorted the images around me, and rendered their impressions unnatural and wearisome. My wound began to pain me afresh, and the hot sun, and the dust, and the thirst, with the miserable accommodations of New Mexican posadas, vexed me to an excess of endurance.

On the fifth day after leaving Santa Fe, we entered the wretched little pueblo of Parida. It was my intention to have remained there all night, but it proved a ruffian sort of place, with meagre chances of comfort, and I moved on to Socorro. This is the last inhabited spot in New Mexico, as you approach the terrible desert, the Jornada del Muerte.

G.o.de had never made the journey, and at Parida I had obtained one thing that we stood in need of, a guide. He had volunteered; and as I learnt that it would be no easy task to procure one at Socorro, I was fain to take him along. He was a coa.r.s.e, s.h.a.ggy-looking customer, and I did not at all like his appearance; but I found, on reaching Socorro, that what I had heard was correct. No guide could be hired on any terms, so great was their dread of the Jornada and its occasional denizens, the Apaches.

Socorro was alive with Indian rumours, "novedades." The Indians had fallen upon an atajo near the crossing of Fra Cristobal, and murdered the arrieros to a man. The village was full of consternation at the news. The people dreaded an attack, and thought me mad, when I made known my intention of crossing the Jornada.

I began to fear they would frighten my guide from his engagement, but the fellow stood out staunchly, still expressing his willingness to accompany us.

Without the prospect of meeting the Apache savages, I was but ill prepared for the Jornada. The pain of my wound had increased, and I was fatigued and burning with fever.

But the caravan had pa.s.sed through Socorro only three days before, and I was in hopes of overtaking my old companions before they could leave El Paso. This determined me to proceed in the morning, and I made arrangements for an early start.

G.o.de and I were awake before dawn. My attendant went out to summon the guide and saddle our animals. I remained in the house, making preparations for a cup of coffee before starting. I was a.s.sisted by the landlord of the posada, who had risen, and was stalking about in his serape.

While thus engaged I was startled by the voice of G.o.de calling from without, "Von maitre! von maitre! the rascal have him run vay!"

"What do you mean? Who has run away?"

"Oh, monsieur! la Mexicaine, with von mule, has robb, and run vay.