An Indian Story.
BY W. O. STODDARD.
Chapter XXI.
or his own part, To-la-go-to-de had decided upon the policy he should follow. He had told his older warriors,
"The pale-faces are cunning. The Lipans must be wise. Suppose the Apaches kill many pale-faces? Ugh! Good. Lipans kill rest of them very easy. Not so many to kill."
He was right about the Captain's "cunning," for it was a good deal like his own "wisdom," and it had been expressed to his men in the same way.
"The Apaches are strong enough to beat them, and us too, and they'll be on the look-out. We mustn't throw ourselves away, boys. We must get separated somehow. There won't be enough Lipans left to follow us far."
He and Two Knives, therefore, had about the same object in view when they rode out together in advance of their combined force after supper.
The miners were all mounted, and nobody would have guessed how much extra weight they were carrying. They were drawn up now in a close rank in front of their little camp, in which they had not left a single guard.
Two Knives asked about that.
"What for?" replied Skinner. "What good to leave men? If the Lipans want to rob wagon, they kill the men we leave. Suppose Lipans do as they agree, camp safe, then. Better take all the men we've got to fight the Apaches."
That was good sense, and Two Knives only said "Ugh!" to it, but his next question meant more.
"How about fight? Tell chief what do."
"No, I won't. It's your fight more than mine. If you want us to go ahead, we will go. If you say we are to keep back and let you go ahead, all right. If we say we want to do anything, you will think it is crooked. Better not say. You say."
The chief had been expecting to hear some plan of action, and to find something "crooked" in it. Captain Skinner had beaten him at once and completely.
"Then you ride along with Lipans."
"No. The hearts of your young braves are hot and bitter. My men are angry. Must keep apart. Have fight among ourselves. No good."
There was no denying the good sense of that, and Two Knives had no fear at all but that his pale-face allies would come back after their wagon, extra horses, and mules. Of course they would stick to property for which they had shown themselves so ready to fight, and he could not suspect that they now had the best part of it carefully stowed away around them.
"Ugh! Pale-faces can't go ahead. Not stay behind. What then?"
"You say. We go."
"Ride left hand, then. Away off there. Not too far. We go this way. Both find Apaches. Come together then."
"All right. That'll suit us. Send some braves along to see that we don't run away."
Two Knives would have done so if Captain Skinner had not asked for it, but he instantly suspected a cunning plot for the destruction of as many braves as he might send, and he replied:
"Ugh! No good. Pale-faces take care of themselves to-night."
So both of them got what they wanted.
Two Knives believed that by keeping to the right he should make a circuit and surprise the Apache camp, while the miners would be sure to meet any outlying force by riding toward it in a straight line.
Captain Skinner's one idea was to get as far as possible from the Lipans, he hardly cared in what direction. To the "left" was also to the southward; and so he was better off than he had hoped for.
"Go slow, boys," he said to his men. "We must go right across every stream we come to. The more water we can put behind us, the better."
The Lipans also advanced with caution at first, keenly watching the distrusted miners until they were hidden from them by the rolling prairie and the increasing darkness.
The line on which the Captain was leading them slanted away more and more toward the south, but not so much as yet that it need have aroused the suspicions of To-la-go-to-de's keen-eyed spies who were keeping track of them.
They reached a good-sized brook, and the moment they were over it the Captain shouted: "That gets bigger, or it runs into something before it's gone far. That's our chance, boys."
Nothing could be more sure, for all the brooks in the world do that very thing. Besides, that brook was running in the direction in which the miners wanted to go, and they now pushed forward more rapidly.
"If I knew where the Apache village was," said the Captain, "I'd go near enough to see if we could pick up some ponies. But we won't waste any time looking for it."
The brook was a true guide. In due time it led the miners to the place where it poured its little contribution into the larger stream, and that looked wider and gloomier by night than by day.
"No ford right here, boys. The water runs too still and quiet. We must follow it down."
Every pair of eyes among them was now busy peering into the darkness as they rode along the bank.
If they could but find a ford!
They thought they found one once, and a tall horseman wheeled his horse down the bank, and into the placid water.
"Careful now. Feel your way a foot at a time," shouted Skinner.
"Tain't three feet deep yet, and it's a good bottom."
It did not seem to get any deeper until he was half-way across and the rest were getting ready to follow him, when his horse seemed to stumble and plunge forward.
There was a splash and a smothered cry, and that was all. Days afterward an Apache hunter found a stray horse, all saddled and bridled, feeding on the bank near the spot where he had swum ashore, but nobody ever saw any more of his rider. He had too many pounds of stolen gold about him, heavier than lead, and it had carried him to the bottom instantly.
"Boys," said Captain Skinner, "I'll try the next ford myself. I was half afraid of that."
Every man of them understood just what had happened, and knew that it was of no use for them to do anything but ride along down the bank.
There was not a great deal further to go before a sharp string of exclamations ran along the line.
"See there?"
"Camp fires yonder!"
"That's the Apache village!"
"It's on the other shore."
"Hark, boys! Hear that? Off to the northward? There's a fight going on. Ride now. We're away in behind it."
Captain Skinner was right again. By pushing on along the bank of the river he was soon in full view of the village. At the same time, just because he was so near it, he ran almost no risk at all of meeting any strong force of Apaches. The sound of far-away fighting had somehow ceased, but the Captain did not care to know any more about it.
"Silence, boys. Forward. Our chance has come."
THE MINERS CROSSING THE FORD.
He never dreamed of looking for a ford there by the village, and there were no squaws to find it for him and point it out. More than a mile below he came to the broad rippling shallow the Apache warriors had reported to their chief, and into this he led his men without a moment's hesitation.
"Steady, boys; pick your tracks. Where the ripples show, the bottom isn't far down, but it may be a little rough."
A large part of it was rough enough, but Captain Skinner seemed to be able to steer clear of anything really dangerous, and in a few minutes more he was leading them out on the southerly shore.
"Now, boys," he said, "do you see what we've done?"
"We've got across the river," said Bill, "without any more of us gettin' drownded."
"That's so, but we've done a heap more than that. We've put the Apache village between us and the Lipans, and all we've got to do is to strike for the Mexican line."
At the end of a few more hours of hard riding the foremost man sent back a loud shout of "Here's another river!"
"That's all right," said Captain Skinner. "Now I know where we are."
"Where is it, then?" said Bill.
"The first river we forded was the north fork of the Yaqui, and this is the other fork. When we're on the other bank of that, we're in Mexico. We can go in any line we please, then."
The whole band broke out into a chorus of cheers.
Whatever may have been their reason for wishing to get out of the United States, particularly that part of it, it must have been strong enough to make them anxious. They were not contented for a moment until this second "fork" was also forded.
Then a good place for a camp was selected, and the weary horses were unsaddled.