Captured by the Navajos Part 15

"He is a good chief and a brave one," said Manuel, as we rejoined the command, "but I should cherish kindlier memories of him if he had given us some clothing and an extra blanket."

Later, as we were riding slowly out of the bed of Lithodendron, Frank said, "I do not see how the Indians came to spare Vic."

"One of them did attempt to kill her, but I threw my arms about her and the chief patted her head and gave orders that she should not be hurt. I think if her collar had not been taken off at Laguna she would have been killed in a scramble to possess it. Even Elarnagan would have considered her life worthless compared with the possession of such a beautiful trinket."

"The chief seems to have taken quite a liking to Corporal Henry," I remarked.

"Not enough to allow him to retain his clothing," said Manuel; "but he would not permit him to be deprived of his pony. Perhaps you saw him, when you were on the b.u.t.te, dash round the herd with Henry on his shoulder?"

"Frank and I saw it," I answered.

"He said, when he placed Henry back upon Chiquita, 'He will make a brave chief.'"

Camp was reached a little after dark, and the boys plunged into the river to remove the _yeso_, and then dressed themselves in civilized garments, Henry drawing on his reserve, and the others from the quartermaster's stores.

Had not Victoriana been a modest doggie, the amount of praise and attention she received from the four boys would have turned her head; and the boys themselves had no reason to complain of the kindly congratulations they received from the infantry company.

Word was sent to Lieutenant Hubbell that Manuel Perea had been rescued, and the following morning all the New Mexicans not on duty rode into camp to congratulate the boy upon his escape. Spanish cheers and Spanish felicitations filled the air for an hour.

When the volunteers had gone and quiet was resumed, Brenda came, and her delight at seeing the boys again showed itself in ceaseless caressings of Vic and many requests for a repet.i.tion of the account of their flying ride when the signal was waved from the b.u.t.te. When she at last withdrew, to repeat the story to her relatives, the corporals and I wrote a letter to Senora Perea, to be delivered by her son. In my portion I related the circ.u.mstances attending his recovery, detailing the part taken by the boy corporals, the dog, and the troop.

I said no one desired to claim the generous reward she had offered, since no one in particular had rescued Manuel; many things had combined to enable him to escape. If the lady insisted upon paying the reward, we all desired that it should be devoted to the education of Sapoya.

Frank added a few lines, and Henry closed the letter. The younger corporal wrote:

"I've laughed with the rest over my two days' captivity among the Navajos, and made light of it. I don't mind telling you that after s.h.i.+vering through two nights without clothes and without enough blankets, being bitten by mosquitoes and flies, and scorched daytimes by the sun, I begin to think Manuel a great hero.

"You know when I saw you I told you I was going to bring back Manuel or be a prisoner with him. That, of course, was all foolish talk, for I planned nothing. To be sure, I was a prisoner with him for two days and had something to do about bringing him back, but it all happened without planning. It seems as if G.o.d directed us all through. Frank, Vic, the soldiers, officers, and myself--even the dry time from Jacob's Well to the Lithodendron--all had something to do with finding Manuel.

"About the reward the lieutenant speaks of, we think none of us deserve it. We've talked it over, and we think if you would give Sapoya a chance at school, and if you cannot make a white boy of him make him an educated man, that would be the best reward. He's very intelligent, and if he can have a good chance will learn fast.

"Frank and I have a scheme we hope you will approve of. Mr.

Duncan has secured a detail from the War Department to a boys' military school in the States as instructor in tactics, and will probably go in November. We are intending to ask papa to let us join that school after the Christmas holidays. We want you to send Manuel and Sapoya there. Won't you, please? Be sure and say yes. Think what a fine chance it will be for Sapoya.

"You know we boys feel something more than a friends.h.i.+p for one another. I suppose it is like the comrades.h.i.+p of soldiers who have stood shoulder to shoulder in battle.

There is a tie uniting us that is closer and firmer than friends.h.i.+p; we feel more like brothers.

"We will write often. Hoping Manuel will arrive home safe, and that he may never again be a captive,

"I remain your friend,

"HENRY BURTON."

Our letters were despatched by Manuel and Sapoya to Lieutenant Hubbell's camp, where Captain Bayard directed the boys to await the detachment of New Mexican cavalry which had accompanied us from the Rio Grande and which was shortly to return there.

We resumed our march the following day at a very early hour, and as we pa.s.sed the cavalry camp two half-dressed boys came bounding out to the road-side to once more repeat their affectionate good-byes and renew their promises to meet in the future.

The march continued for a week longer, through a region over which the Pullman car now rushes with the modern tourist, but through which we moved at the gait of infantry. The boy corporals and Brenda Arnold climbed eminences, looked through clefts in precipices into the sublime depths of the great canon, stood on the edge of craters of extinct volcanoes, penetrated the mysterious caverns of the cliff-dwellers, fished for trout in a mountain lake, caught axolotl in a tank at the foot of San Francisco Mountain, shot turkeys, grouse, and antelope, and enjoyed the march as only healthy youngsters can.

Brenda became a pupil of the boys in loading and firing their revolvers, carbines, and fowling-pieces, and made many a bull's-eye when firing at a mark, but invariably failed to hit anything living.

Henry said she was too tender-hearted to aim well at animals. That she was no coward an incident to be told in a future chapter will prove.

When our train and its escort reached Fort Whipple, or, rather, the site of that work--for we built it after our arrival--the Arnolds caught up their cattle from our herd, and after a two weeks' stay in Prescott removed to a section of land which they took up in Skull Valley, ten miles to the west by the mountain-trail, and twenty-five miles by the only practicable wagon-road. This place was selected for a residence because its distance from Prescott and its situation at the junction of the bridle-path and wagon-road made it an excellent location for a way-side inn.

At a dress-parade held the evening before the family's departure for their new home, Brenda sat on her pony, Gypsy, near Captain Bayard, and heard an order read advancing her young friends from the grade of corporal to that of sergeant, "for soldierly attention to duty on the march, gallant conduct in the affair at Laguna, and meritorious behavior in effecting the rescue of captive boys from the Navajos at Carizo Creek; subject to the approval of Colonel Burton."

XI

BOTH PONIES ARE STOLEN

"Here, Frank, come and help push this gate, I can't start it alone."

"Don't be in such a hurry, Henry. Wait just a moment. I think I hear a horse coming down the Prescott road. I want to see if it is the express from La Paz."

The younger boy ceased his efforts to close the gates, and advancing a few steps before the entrance of the fort, looked up the valley to where the road from Prescott appeared from behind a spur of the foot-hills. The two boys had mounted their sergeant's chevrons and adopted white stripes down the legs of their trousers. As they stood side by side Vic approached and placed herself between them, nestling her delicate muzzle against the younger boy's hip and responding to his caresses with waves of her plumy tail.

"Do you think we shall hear from father, Frank?"

"We ought to; you know he said in his last letter he was getting settled at the Presidio, and would soon send for us."

"Takes twelve days to bring a letter from San Francisco. I suppose it'll take us longer to go there; seems to me he might get ready for us while we are on the road," said Henry, lugubriously. "I'm getting mighty tired of opening and shutting these gates."

"You forget father has to visit all the posts where companies of his regiment are stationed. That will probably take him all of a month longer."

"And we must go on opening and closing gates and running errands in Arizona? But come; let's get a swing on 'em and watch for the expressman afterwards. We haven't much time before retreat."

The gates closed a fort which we had built since our arrival in Arizona. Peeled pine logs, ten feet long, had been set up vertically in the ground, two feet of them below the surface and eight above, enclosing an area of a thousand square feet, in which were store-rooms, offices, and quarters for two companies of soldiers and their officers. At corners diagonally opposite each other were two large block-house bastions, commanding the flanks of the fort. The logs of the walls were faced on two sides and set close together, and were slotted every four feet for rifles. At one of the corners which had no bastions were double gates, also made of logs, bound by cross and diagonal bars, dovetailed and pinned firmly to them. Each hung on huge, triple hinges of iron.

The two boys returned to the gates, and, setting their backs against one of them and digging their heels in the earth, pushed and swung it ponderously and slowly, until its outer edge caught on a shelving log set in the middle of the entrance to support it and its fellow. Then, as the field-music began to play and the men to a.s.semble in line for retreat roll-call, they swung the second gate in the same way, and braced the two with heavy timbers. The boys then reported the gates closed to the adjutant.

As the companies broke ranks and dispersed the boy sergeants went to the fifth log, to the left of the gates, and swung it back on its hinges. This was one of two secret posterns. On the inside of the wall, when closed, its location was easily noticeable on account of its hinges, latches, and braces; on the outside it looked like any other log in the wall. Their work being completed, the boys asked permission of the adjutant to stand outside the wall and watch for the mail.

"All right, sergeants," said the adjutant; "there is no further duty for you to perform to-day."

Frank and Henry ran through the postern, and arrived on the crest of the bluff overlooking the Prescott road just as a horseman turned up the height. The news that the La Paz courier had arrived spread rapidly through the quarters, and every man not on duty appeared outside the walls.

Joining the boy sergeants, I said, "Boys, if you want to drop the job of opening and closing the gates, it can hereafter be done by the guard."

"Thank you, sir. We took the job, and we'll stick to it," replied Sergeant Frank.

"I wonder if Samson could lift those gates as easily as he did the gates of Gaza?" questioned Henry, seating himself on a log which had been rejected in the building and taking Vic's head in his lap and fondling her silken ears.

"We can't remain here much longer," said Frank; "I think this express will bring an order for us to go to San Francisco."

"Very likely. No doubt life here is not very enjoyable for boys."

"I should say not," said Henry, "for we can't look outside the fort unless a dozen soldiers are along for fear the Apaches 'll get us."