CHAPTER V.
THE ESCAPE.
It may readily be conceived that my sensations were not the most pleasant during the absence of the three men in whose power I was so strangely and unexpectedly placed. That two of them were quite capable of murdering me, if they had not already made up their minds to do so, was beyond question. I looked around, and saw to my dismay that they scarcely took the trouble to conceal the robbery they had already perpetrated. My blankets lay under a tree not over fifteen steps from the fire, and my coat and saddle were carelessly thrown among the common camp equipments in the same place. What could one unarmed man do against three, or even two, fully armed desperadoes? My first impulse was to steal away, now that there was a chance—perhaps the only one I might have—and conceal myself in the bushes till morning, then endeavor to make my way along the bed of the creek to Soledad. Better trust to the grizzly bears than to such men as the Colonel and Jack. But it was more than probable they were thoroughly acquainted with every thicket and trail in the country, and would not be long in overtaking me on horseback. There was another serious consideration: I could not well afford to lose my mule, money, and papers. The latter were of incalculable value, and could not be replaced. I had no idea that they had been suffered to remain in my coat pocket. So adroit a speculator as the Colonel must have ascertained their contents and placed them beyond danger of recovery. Besides, the man Griff had warned me not to attempt an escape yet. Was he to be trusted? Surely I could not be deceived in him. What object could he have in warning me unless to provide for my safety?
These considerations were unanswerable. I determined to remain and abide the issue.
It is said that danger sharpens men's wits. I believe it; for while there was ample reason to suppose these men were deliberating upon my destruction, a scheme flashed upon my mind which I at once resolved to carry into effect. Up to this period I had given them a plain statement of my misfortune. They evidently regarded me as a very simple-minded and inexperienced traveler. Nothing could be easier than to improve upon that idea.
As soon as they returned and resumed their places around the fire, I made some casual inquiries of the Colonel about the route from San Miguel to San Luis Obispo, professing to be exceedingly anxious to reach the latter place within five or six days.
The Colonel was bland and obliging as usual, giving me, without reserve, full particulars in regard to the route.
"But what's your hurry?" said he, smiling in his accustomed manner; "why not stay with us a few days and make yourself comfortable? The weather is rather warm for so long a pedestrian tour—unless, indeed, something is to be made by it." This he said with a low chuckle and a significant glance at the fellow with the thick neck.
"That is precisely why I want to get on," I answered; "a great deal is to be made by it if I get there in time, and a great deal lost if I don't. A vessel laden with foreign goods has gone ashore on the beach below the Embarcadera. I have advices that most of the cargo is saved. The duties, according to a copy of the manifest forwarded to the Custom-house at San Francisco, amount to over ten thousand dollars. The supercargo writes that he can sell out on advantageous terms at San Luis, provided he can pay the duties there to some authorized officer of the government within the period named. I am on my way down to receive the money. If I can get back with it to San Francisco within ten or twelve days, it will be of considerable advantage to the government as well as to myself. Unfortunately, there is no water communication at present, or I might gain time by taking a vessel. However, I apprehend no difficulty in being able to hire a mule at San Miguel. As for the stories of robbery and murder on the road, I have no faith in them. At all events, I am not afraid to try the experiment."
This communication made an evident impression upon the minds of the Colonel and Jack, both of whom listened with intense interest. The man Griff looked a little puzzled, but a casual glance reassured him: he at once caught at my meaning. I could see that the Colonel was embarrassed as to what course to pursue in reference to the stolen property. He held down his head for some time, pretending to be occupied in clearing the stem of his pipe, but it was apparent that he was in considerable perplexity. Deep and guarded as he was, it was not difficult to conjecture what was passing in his mind. There was now a strong inducement for permitting me to proceed on my journey. The prospect of securing ten thousand dollars was worthy of some risk; yet, if he acknowledged the stealing of my mule and other property, it was not likely I would again place myself in his power. On the other hand, I had seen the pistol, and must have some suspicion of the true state of the case.
I have often observed that men deeply versed in villainy, while they possess a certain sort of sagacity, are deficient in the perception of character when it involves a more comprehensive knowledge of human nature than usually falls within the limits of their individual experience. They are quick to detect every species of vulgar trickery, but their capacity to cope with straightforward truth is limited. They suspect either too much or too little, and lose confidence in their own penetration. With men like themselves they understand how to deal—they know by intuition the governing motives; but simplicity and frankness are weapons to which they are not accustomed. A direct statement of facts, in which they can see no motive of prudence, sets them at fault. They can analyze well through a dark atmosphere, but, like night-birds, have very dim perceptive powers in daylight.
While the Colonel could discover no interested motive in my simple statement respecting the loss of a vessel on the coast (of which he had probably heard from other sources), and could see no reason why I should not be simple enough to come back with a large sum of money, since I had been simple enough to lose a valuable mule and exhibit a valuable watch, he nevertheless seemed unable to extricate himself from suspicion in reference to the pistol—the only article of my property which he had reason to suppose I had seen. He could easily have said that he had found it on the trail; but he was not skilled in degrees of innocence. He had deferred his explanation too long, and, judging by himself, could not imagine that any other person would credit so flimsy a statement. In this he was correct, but his one-sided sagacity led him into puzzling inconsistencies.
To lull all suspicion on this point was indispensable to the success of my plan. The apparent confidence which I had manifested in the good faith of the party tended greatly to prevent the leader from coming to a satisfactory conclusion. So at least it appeared to me, as I watched the uncertain movements of his hands and the changing expression of his countenance. He was evidently aware that I had seen the star on the handle of the pistol, yet my conduct indicated no suspicion. It was necessary that I should remove whatever doubt on the subject might be lurking in his mind. With this in view, I took occasion to renew the conversation relative to the route, stating that although I apprehended little danger, it was still an awkward position to be entirely without arms in a strange country.
"The loss of my pistol," said I, "is a serious inconvenience. It must have fallen from my belt when the mule threw me, and become covered with dust. I could go back and find the place, but that would occupy nearly half a day, and I can not afford to lose the time. The only particular value the pistol has is that it is a present from a friend who belonged to the Order of the Lone Star of Texas. The badge of the Association is marked upon the handle, as usual with arms belonging to the members."
"Yes," said the Colonel, after a pause, "I once belonged to that Order myself, and have a pistol similarly marked."
"Perhaps you would be willing to dispose of it?" I observed. "Not that I have any money, but I would cheerfully give my watch for a good pistol, which would be at least three times its value."
"My dear sir," said the Colonel, affecting an air of injured pride, "you certainly can not be aware that a member of the Lone Star never sells or barters his arms. Any thing else, but not his weapons of personal defense. Fortunately, however, I have a spare revolver, which is entirely at your service. As for your watch, I should be sorry to deprive you of so useful an article, and one which would be of no value to myself. Time is of little consequence to men who are accustomed to spend it as they please, and whose chief dependence is on the sun, moon, and stars."
I accepted the proffered gift, as may be supposed, without the slightest qualms of conscience in depriving the donor of so valuable a piece of property; and having expressed my thanks, noticed that, while pretending to search for the pistol among the camp equipments, he took care to cover up my blanket and coat.
The Colonel soon returned to the fire, and handed me a very handsome revolver, a belt, powder-flask, and small leather bag containing caps, balls, and other necessary appendages. It struck me as a little strange that, having apparently made up his mind to let me depart, he had not offered to lend me an animal to ride upon; but a moment's reflection satisfied me that there was good cause for this. There could be no doubt, from the character of the party, that the horses were stolen, and would be recognized on the road. Besides, he knew I could easily hire a horse or mule at San Miguel.
After this I observed that the Colonel took occasion to speak a few words to Jack, the import of which I could only conjecture had some reference to my papers. Jack answered aloud, "Yes, the grass is bad there. I'll go put my mustang in another place." He then walked away, and the Colonel busied himself in preparing our sleeping quarters for the night.
It was nearly eleven o'clock. In about fifteen minutes Jack returned, and we all lay down in different directions, within a short distance of the fire. A saddle-blanket, kindly furnished by my chief entertainer, enabled me to make quite a comfortable bed.
The night was mild and pleasant. A clear sky, spangled with stars, was visible through the tops of the trees, and never had I seen it look so beautifully serene. Could it be that guilt could slumber peacefully under that heavenly canopy? Surely the evil spirit must be strong in the hearts of men who, unconscious of the reproving purity of such a night, could thus forget their sins, and lie calmly sleeping upon the bosom of their mother earth. How deadened by a long career of crime must conscience be in the breast of him who, steeped in guilt, could thus, in the presence of his Maker,
"O'erlabored with his being's strife,
Sink to that sweet forgetfulness of life!"
Neither the Colonel nor the man Jack moved an inch after taking their places. I almost envied them their capacity to sleep, so gentle and profound was their oblivion to the world and all its cares. To me this refreshing luxury was denied. My fate seemed to hang upon a thread. I could not feel any confidence in these men. They might become suspicious at any moment, and murder me as I lay helpless before them. For over two hours I watched them; they never moved. The probable fact was, they had made up their minds not to molest me, in view of the large sum of money I expected to collect at San Luis. My course seemed clear enough. But here was the difficulty. I could do nothing without my papers. Nor was I content to lose my mule, saddle, and blankets, which I knew to be in their possession.
The tall man, Griff, was restless, and turned repeatedly, moaning in his sleep, "God have pity on me! Oh God, have pity on me!"
It was a sad sight to behold him. No mortal eye could fathom the sufferings that thus moved him. Truly,
"The mind that broods o'er guilty woes
Is like a scorpion girt by fire."
At length—it must have been about an hour before day—he arose, looked cautiously around, and, seeing all quiet, beckoned to me, and stealthily left the camp. On his way out he gathered up my blanket, saddle, and coat in his arms, and looked back to see if I had taken the hint. I lost no time in slipping from my covering, and following his receding figure. It was a trying moment. I expected to see the other two men rise, and held my pistol ready for defense. In a few minutes we were beyond immediate danger of discovery.
"Now," said Griff—"now is your time. Here is your mule. Mount him and be off! They will undertake to pursue you as soon as they discover your absence; but I shall loose the riatas, and it will take them some time to catch the horses. You will find your papers on the trail as soon as you strike the plain. Get to San Miguel, and you are safe. They dare not go there; but don't stop on the way."
While he was talking Griff fixed my saddle and pack on the mule, and I mounted without loss of time. What could I do to reward this noble fellow? In the hurry of the moment I handed him my watch.
"Friend," said I, "you have done me an inestimable service. Take this trifle as a keepsake, and with it my best thanks. You and I may never meet again."
"No, it is not likely we shall," said Griff, sadly. "Our ways are different. Keep your watch; I can't accept it. All I ask of you is not to judge me harshly. Good-by!"
The impulse to serve this unfortunate man was irresistible. I could not leave him thus. It was no idle curiosity that prompted me to probe the mystery of his conduct.
"In heaven's name, friend, why do you stay with these bad men? What unholy power have they over you? Leave them, I implore you—leave them at once and forever. Come with me. I will do all I can for you. Surely you are not too far gone in crime for repentance. The vilest sinner may be saved!"
The poor fellow's frame was convulsed with agony. He sobbed like a child, and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Suddenly, as if recollecting himself, he said,
"No, sir, I can not turn traitor. It is no use—I am gone beyond redemption. Their fate must be mine. God pity me! I struggled hard against the evil spirit, but he has conquered. I am gone, sir—gone! Yet, believe me, I am not wholly depraved—a criminal in the eyes of the law; a robber; an outcast from society and civilization; but (here he lowered his voice to a whisper)—but not a murderer. Oh God, pity me! My mother—my poor old mother!"
This was all. The next moment he turned away, and was lost in the gloom of the trees.