Captured by the Navajos Part 17

ponies."

"What do you think about allowing the boys to go with me?"

"No doubt they would like it, for life has been rather monotonous to them for some time, especially since they lost their horses. Think it would be safe?"

"No Indians have been seen on the route for some time."

"The 'calm before the storm,' I fear."

"The mail-rider, Hudson, has seen no signs for a long time."

"So he told me. The excursion would be a big treat to the lads, and, with a good escort and you in command, Duncan, I think they will be in no danger. Tell the adjutant to detail a corporal and any twelve men you may select, and take an ambulance and driver."

"Shall I go by Bill Williams Fork or across the Xuacaxella?"

"The desert route is the shortest, and the courier says there is water in the Hole-in-the-Plain. There was a rainfall there last week. That will give you water at the end of each day's drive."

I returned to my rooms and looked over an itinerary of the route, with a schedule of the distances, and other useful information. After making myself familiar with all its peculiarities, I told Frank and Henry that if they desired to do so they might accompany me.

They were overjoyed at the prospect. Henry caught Vic by the forepaws and began to waltz about the room. Then, sitting down, he held her head up between his palms and informed her that she was going to bring back Sancho and Chiquita.

"I do not intend to take Vic, Henry," I said.

"Not take Vic? Why not, sir?"

"The road is long and weary--six days going and six returning, over a rough and dry region--and she will be in the way and a constant care to us."

"But how are we going to find our horses without her? She always helps whenever we are in trouble, and she will be sure to a.s.sist us in this if we take her," said Sergeant Henry, emphatically.

"She need be no care to you, sir," said the elder boy; "Henry and I will look after her."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, boys, but I cannot take the dog. She will be left with Captain Bayard."

This decision made the boys somewhat miserable for a time. They commiserated the dog over her misfortune, and then turned their attention to preparations for the journey.

"Have you ever been to La Paz?" asked Frank.

"I have never been beyond Date Creek in that direction," I replied.

"Is the Xuacaxella really a desert?"

"Only in the rainless season. Gra.s.ses, cacti, and shrubbery not needing much moisture grow there. One of the geological surveys calls it Cactus Plain. It is one hundred miles long. There is water in a fissure of a mountain-spur on one side called the Cisternas Negras, or Black Tanks, but for the rest of the distance there was formerly no water except in depressions after a rainfall, a supply that quickly evaporated under a hot sun and in a dry atmosphere. A man named Tyson has lately sunk a well thirty miles this side of La Paz."

"It was at Black Tanks the expressman saw Texas d.i.c.k and Juan Brincos with our ponies," said Henry. "What a queer name that is!--Juan Brincos, John Jumper, or Jumping Jack, as nearly every one calls him."

"He is well named; he has been jumping stock for some years."

"I thought Western people always hanged horse-thieves?"

"Not when they steal from government. Western people are too apt to consider army mules and horses common property, and they suppose your ponies belong to Uncle Sam."

"Frank," said Henry, just before the boys fell asleep that night, "I felt almost sure we should recapture the ponies when I thought Vic was going, but now I'm afraid we never shall see them again."

XII

INDIANS ON THE WAR-PATH

The following day we were so delayed by several minor affairs that we did not begin our journey until the middle of the afternoon.

At the time of which I write there were but two wagon-roads out of Prescott--one through Fort Whipple, which, several miles to the north, divided into a road to the west, the one over which we had marched from New Mexico, and a second which left in a northwesterly direction.

We took the latter, pursuing it along the east side of Granite Range for eight miles, when we pa.s.sed through a notch in the range to Mint Creek, where the road made an acute angle and followed a generally southwesterly course to La Paz.

We halted for the night at the creek, eight miles from the fort. Our ambulance was provided with four seats--one in front for the driver, fixed front and rear seats in the interior, with a movable middle seat, the back of which could be let down so that it fitted the interval between the others and afforded a fairly comfortable bed. On the rack behind were carried the mess chest, provisions, and bedding, and inside, under the seats, were the ammunition and some articles of personal baggage. Beneath the axle swung a ten-gallon keg and a nest of camp kettles.

While supper was being prepared the boys wandered about the reed-gra.s.s in a fruitless search for some ducks they had seen settle in the creek. Private Tom Clary, who was acting as our cook, having spread our meal of fried bacon, bread, and coffee upon a blanket to the windward of the fire, called them to supper. While sugaring and stirring our coffee, the cook stood by the fire holding two long rods in his hands, upon the ends of which were slices of bacon broiling before the glowing coals. Suddenly he exclaimed:

"Look there, sergeant laddies! look there!" raising and pointing with both sticks and the rashers of bacon towards the reed-gra.s.s behind us.

There in its very edge sat Mistress Vic, winking her eyes and twitching her ears deprecatingly, plainly in doubt as to her reception.

"Stop, boys! keep quiet!" I said, to prevent a movement in her direction. "Vic, you bad girl, how dared you follow me?"

No reply, only a slow closing and opening of the eyes and an accompanying forward and backward movement of the ears.

"Go home! Go!"

The setter rose, dropped her head, and, turning dejectedly, disappeared with drooping tail into the tall gra.s.s. Both boys exclaimed at once:

"Don't drive her off, sir! Poor little Vic!"

"Well, go and see if you can coax her back. If she returns with you she may go to La Paz."

The boys ran eagerly into the gra.s.s, and soon I heard them soothing and pitying the dog, telling her that it was all right, and that she could go. But it was evident she doubted their authority to speak for me, for Henry presently came running towards me.

"She won't come, sir. Keeps moving slowly back in the direction of the fort. She looks so sorry and so tired. Only think how badly she feels, and it is a long distance to Whipple! Can't she stay with us until morning?"

"Then she will not come with you?"

"No. She is your dog, and knows it. She never disobeys you."

"But she followed me here; that looks very much like disobedience."

"But you did not tell her not to come."

"I believe you are right. I forgot to tell her to stay."