Frederick H. Dewey

“ Pedro turned sick, his brain reeled, and a deadly nausea seized him.
Suddenly recovering, he threw the bag into the entrance, and drew his jeweled dagger—his rifle was inside.
“Who’s there?” he hoarsely said, peering off into the plain. “Speak! man or ghost! who is near—who is there?”
Nothing—no one; the plain is bare. All is quiet in the Land of Silence.
“Murder! help! who’s there? Oh, heaven, my gold!”
He saw the plain was bare, and that he was alone. He drew a breath of relief—might he not have been deceived?
Perhaps. He prayed so. But stay—the hillock hid a part of the plain from view. ”

“ Swarming round among the stationary train were over a score of running, twisting, gliding Indians, overrunning the wagon, busily engaged in unhitching the draft-horses, while more were galloping over the plain striving to lariat the saddle horses, which had taken fright and galloped away. They were busy as bees, and were swarming round like them. Thirty running, robbing Indians make a larger show than fifty whites, they are so much more agile and quick. ”

“ There was a sudden streak before her, a small white speck bobbing up and down; and when Kissie reined in the pony she was alone. The rabbit was far away.
“Duped! miserably deceived!” were her exclamations as the truth forced itself upon her. “To think that insignificant creature had so much reason in him. Why, he was only deceiving me, after all—a mean trick to gratify his wicked little heart. I might have known it by the way he acted. Well, I never; and what a laugh there will be when I get back. Deceived by a paltry rabbit. I can imagine how they will laugh. ”

“ The guide, lifting the torch, looked round on a small band of vaguely-frightened, nervous men. Why should they be frightened—why nervous? Nearly all were accustomed to hob-nob with Nature in her strangest and most incomprehensible moods—were accustomed to sudden surprises and alarms, and all were endowed with at least ordinary courage and “nerve.”
The secret of this alarm was this—they all had heard that a once feared and malignant robber, who had been dead a year, was roaming nocturnally about the Land of Silence. Knowing him to be dead, they were satisfied it was his ghost. ”

“ Cimarron Jack strove to organize his men, in order to make a sudden onslaught, which would be more efficacious than a volley from the hill, as the savages would be frightened out of their wits at seeing them rise from the ground. But surprised, the “green” ones clustered together like sheep, paying no attention to his oaths and orders, and before he could begin to reassure them, the savages had mounted their mustangs, and with the stolen draft-horses, went away like the wind, a large and scared band of thirty, headed by the malevolent chief, Red-Knife. ”

“ Inside they found Kissie quite recovered, with her father and young Carpenter sitting jealously by her. Though pale and thin, she, in her joy, looked, to the eyes of the men, more charming than ever before.
What had come to pass? Was a revolution about to arise? for when she signified she was very hungry, Duncan stirred hastily about, actually glad of a chance to cook. Mind that—actually glad. As all were hungry, he was forced to call upon the men for assistance, services which they gladly rendered, and soon the savory odor of cooking filled the cave. ”

“ They were thoroughly alarmed, inasmuch as, not belonging to Red-Knife’s band, they had accidentally fallen upon the train. They had been surprised at not finding a human being near the wagons; they were thunder-struck at the mysterious shot and its fatal effect.
Their alarm and surprise was somewhat dissipated very soon by Pedro’s firing from a chink in the trap-door. He had aimed at the prostrate form of a savage, lying on the ground behind a wagon; the bullet struck him fairly in the side, and, with a groan of mortal agony, he stretched himself prone, to speedily die. ”

“ In his hand he held his horse-blanket, tied into a rude bag; it was loaded with something that chinked musically.
“Found! found!” he cried. “What fortune—what extraordinary luck! Only three hours’ searching, too. Oh, holy mother! what shall I do with all this wealth? Pedro, Pedro Felipe, you are as rich as the richest. Blessed be all the saints! what fortune, what fortune!”
This grave, demure man of forty, fairly danced in excitement, and shook the bag violently.
Chink, chink! a musical rattle that. More than one man has gone crazy over less. Huzzah! huzzah! the treasure is found. ”

“ They had no more than lowered their rifles when a shrill yell arose behind them, and a rush of feet was heard. Cimarron Jack dropped his rifle and drew his knife and revolver, facing round.
“Draw, boys—draw! barkers and knives. A surround! here comes t’other gang behind us—draw quick and don’t faze!”
They drew, each a knife and revolver, and faced round, fearing nothing from the helpless band behind, some of whom must be dead. They did so just in time.
From under the projecting bluff darted nine stalwart Apaches, knives and tomahawks in hand. ”

“ Thanks to the guide’s memory and cunning, they emerged from the Gulches at sunrise, and struck out into the yellow plain—safe and sound, wholly uninjured, and victorious.
“Five men victorious over thirty Apaches,” cried Jack. “A tiger-feat—Hercules couldn’t do better with Sampson and Heenan, with fifty gorillas thrown in for variety. Three and a tiger for the bravest, smartest, handsomest men in the world. ”

“ I’m the man that killed cock-robin! I’m the jumping wild-cat from Bitter Creek! I’m the man that can run faster ’n a jack-rabbit, swear more than a camp-cook, neigh more than an elephant, and kill thieving Indians like the small-pox. I’m the Grand Mogul of Tartary, and I’m the cock of the walk.”
The chief turned, stalked back to his steed, mounted, and rode away with his band toward the south; clustered together, riding swiftly.
The men came out from the wagons, and, standing on the plain, watched the Indians as they swiftly receded, wondering. ”

“ Without further preface she lightly struck the sorrel pony with her riding whip, and on a swift gallop went after the rabbit, which slowly limped away.
The guide, being the only idle one, alone noticed her. He shook with suppressed laughter, awaiting the result.
The guide well knew, though Kissie did not, that this strange rabbit plays some unaccountable pranks, and is the direct cause of many hearty laughs at a “greenhorn’s” expense. Seeing a human being, he at once retreats, limping as if badly hurt. This attracts some one not “well up” in prairie life, and he pursues it. ”

“ God grant they haven’t got my butcher-knife!” excitedly whispered Duncan, in a fever. “Where do you think they are boring with their cussed knives and hatchets?”
Pedro chuckled.
“They are working too low to reach us. There is one part—a quarter—of the hill that is solid. They are boring at that place, ha! ha!”
The rasping continued, growing louder and harsher. The savages were strangely bold and reckless. No other noise was heard, only the same quick, grating sounds—grate, grate—as the metal weapons glanced from the flinty, pebbly soil. ”

“ On the “reach” above the fissure in which Cimarron Jack’s band was concealed, danced and whooped the entire band of Apaches, eager for white blood, and, as prospects appeared, in good chances of getting it. Conspicuous among the painted pack stalked Red-Knife, the renegade, to and fro, cogitating and framing a feasible plan for extermination.
It needed not a very subtle brain or a very bold man to ferret out the whites from their present position, and well he knew it. ”

“ The vulture returned to his perch; the other animals returned to their former places, and Pedro was riding away.
As the last wink of the setting sun gleamed out over the silent plain, a new form appeared on the southern bank of the river. He, too, peered sharply about him when he reached the crest of the knoll, and he was very wary and watchful. When he had finished his scrutiny without seeing any thing to alarm him, or arouse distrust, he rode down the bank.
In the river his horse (a powerful black) halted to drink; but the rider never moved. ”

“ They rushed in and lifted him up, the guide first. Taking him tenderly in his arms, he held the torch to his face; then he laid him gently down; then he shook his head slowly; then, with every muscle, feature and lineament of his face showing his earnestness, with wild eyes, with voice trembling and hollow in spite of himself, he said:
“Gentlemen, thar’s suthin’ wrong ’bout this cursed, ugly black hill; the strongest, coolest, bravest man in the world has fainted clean away—dead away!”
“And the girl—where is she?—she is gone,” muttered Cimarron Jack. ”

“ Directly south and nearly fifteen miles behind Pedro, rode a dark, ugly-looking man on a black horse; and though the Mexican had left no visible trail, this mysterious rider was following him, directly in his very tracks. Riders on the savage-infested, weird plains generally look sharply in every direction to avoid their dreaded foes; they generally, if alone, keep close to timbered tracts; but this rider never gazed to the right, left, or behind him—only keeping his gaze fixed toward the Land of Silence. ”

“ But he was summarily stopped by Duncan, who emptied one of his cylinders at him. This was sufficient; with a last expiring scowl back upon his foes, he settled prone upon the sand, and his soul went to the happy hunting-grounds.
“There have been strange happenings here lately,” gloomily remarked Pedro, ramming down a bullet. “Who shot just now—tell me that?”
“Who can?” replied Mr. Wheeler. “Oh, God! if one misfortune were not enough to bear without a mystery, deep and black, to drive one to torments. Where is my child?” ”

“ He stalks away. They follow in utter silence; even the guide and the ranger are under a strange influence. They emerge into the open air.
Pedro, the guide and Cimarron Jack stood on the summit of the hill and peered round in the darkness. The twilight had given place to-night, yet they could see some distance, the atmosphere was so clear. The horses stood as if statues, motionless; the mustang was out on the plain, but she was no longer browsing ”

“ The chase had commenced—she was pursued by Indians.
It was now sunset, as nearly as she could judge, and the cloudy sky overhead promised a brief, dark twilight, to be succeeded by a dark, murky night. The rainy season was now drawing near, and for aught she knew the clouds above might be the “advance-guard.” This, at least, was in her favor.
Kissie was like her father—impulsive but cool. Looking back, she calculated the distance between her and the flying savages. It was nearly four miles. She looked at the sky and calculated that darkness would fall in less than an hour. ”

“ Then they turned toward the cave.
“We are in for it,” remarked Robidoux, in a low tone, to Duncan. “What if more of these mean Indians should come? We’d be the only ones fit to fight ’em. Look at the master and the Mexican—they are both entirely useless. One is half-dead about some strange affair, while the other is almost in a trance with grief.” ”

“ Dismounting from his mustang, Red-Knife stalked toward the whites for a few rods; then he cried:
“The Red-Knife is a brave—he seeks not to war with dogs and cowards. The sounds of war come from the south; there will the Comanche go to war with braves—he leaves pale-face dogs to their own cowardly deeds. The Red-Knife has spoken.”
[Pg 51]
Cimarron Jack sprung out of the wagon into the open plain. The chief recognized him.
“Dog from the bitter river!” he cried, with an insulting gesture; “coward of a coyote, squaw, sneak, the Red-Knife laughs at you.”
“I’m Cimarron Jack, the grizzly-tamer! ”

“ They had not long to dig, as the soil was yielding, and the strong arms of the excited and determined men drove the spades deep into the hillside. Men clamored to relieve each other, and in their wild desire to force their way through, yelled and even pitched dirt away from the workmen with their hands. Never before had the hillock, in all its experience of murders, robberies and crime, looked upon such a wild, frenzied scene. ”

“ Only the chief, Red-Knife, remained at rest. After seeing his brother Ishmaelites wheel and curve about him for some time, he dismounted, cast his weapons on the ground and slowly stalked toward the barricade.
“He’s a fool!” whispered Burt to Sam, as he drew within rifle-range. “Fust thing he’ll know, he’ll find hisself dead, if ever Simpson or t’other draws bead on him.” ”

“ His whole equipment was that of a mounted ranger, and this style of dress has so often been described as to be familiar to all.
Instead of the short carbine which a Mexican habitually carries, he sported a long, elegant rifle—a very witch to charm a hunter’s eye. Then he had a brace of silver-mounted revolvers, each firing five times without reloading. Like the rifle, they were costly, and fatally precise and true, models of expensive and beautiful workmanship. ”

“ Talk about your referees—talk about your President of the United States—your umpires—your settlers of disputes—there’s not so thankless a job in the world as that of a camp cook. It is always, cook, do this—cook, do that; cook, when’s dinner going to be ready? There ain’t enough biscuits, cook—why didn’t ye make more? You never make the coffee strong enough, cook—why don’t ye make it stronger? ”

“ Cool, deliberate, noble Pedro was himself again—the far-famed scout and feared Indian-fighter. Now was his brain clear; now were his nerves steady; and the famous master of Indian strategy was rapidly running down his No. 1 buckshot, with eyes sparkling like a ferret’s.
“Senors—sirs, fire not hastily. It is a fault with you Americans—you are not sufficiently aware of the importance of keeping cool. See! they have quite concealed themselves; never mind, we are entirely safe, well ammunitioned, and able to prevent them from plundering the wagons. ”

“ All men have at least a small amount of superstition innate—these were no exception. The guide had recounted his strange meeting with the robber, and had been implicitly believed, as his manner when relating it was not that of one who would joke or falsely speak. Having never seen him they were affected by the guide’s mistrust and vague fear, and by the sudden, strange, and real disappearance of Kissie. ”

“ They heard a noise, a clamor above, and ran eagerly outside, leaving Sam, pale and sick, yet wild with delight, and Mr. Wheeler, caressing the fair girl, who had fainted away. It is useless to describe the scene—pen can not do it; and knowing the reader’s imagination is far more powerful than any description, we leave him to fancy it; it was a meeting of intense joy.
Arriving outside, the men, headed by Cimarron Jack, found the guide and Burt engaged in a fierce struggle with a gigantic man in a serape, a conical hat and black plume. ”