All drank moderately, for they knew that Egbert was to come last, and nothing could induce one to cut his allowance short; and so he let several swallows gurgle down his parched throat, when he carried the remainder to the women’s wagon, and placing it in the hands of Lizzie, said:
“Keep it for the poor suffering little ones and for yourselves! We are hardy men, and can stand thirst better than they, and know how to chew our bullets, when we have nothing else!”
With many a fervent blessing upon the noble fellow’s head, the canteen was accepted and preserved as he requested.
CHAPTER IX. THE LOVERS.
The second night the moon, that rode high on the sky, enabled the little party of white men in Dead Man’s Gulch to detect the Comanches as they prowled about, and our friends proved their vigilance by picking off every one who thus exposed himself to their deadly rifles.
For the first half of the night little rest was obtained by either side—the spitting shots continuing with a rapidity, and in such numbers, as sometimes to resemble platoon firing—but, shortly past the turn of night, the Comanches seemed to grow weary of the incessant din, and being a fair target for the whites so long as they remained on the hill, where they were brought in fair relief against the sky, they assumed safer positions, and for a long time perfect silence remained.
By this time, despite the respite afforded by the captured canteen, the condition of the party was as desperate as it could be. Although the whites had been very careful in exposing themselves to the aim of the Comanches, yet so deadly had it been that there were now only ten men left, including Gibbons. Shortly after midnight two of these made the attempt to steal through the environing lines, and both lost their lives, in the manner recorded elsewhere. This left but eight able-bodied men to continue the defense, and Gibbons began arranging his flight with Shields, they keeping it a secret from the rest, as it was feared that there would be a strife as to who should go, every one being anxious to get out of such a hell as Dead Man’s Gulch by any means, so long as a suitable pretext could be found.
But one horse was left unharmed. The others were dead, stretched in different places around the open space, and, under the warm sun, an odor of the most offensive character was beginning to rise from them. Worse still, there were men here and there, and some of them in wagons, to whom the right of sepulture could not be given; and they lay, with dark, discolored faces, staring up to the sky, happier than were those who were left behind to struggle and fight on, only to die at last a still more dreadful death then had come to them.
All was still, and in the large wagons, devoted to the shelter of the women and children, the latter were sound asleep, as were most of the former. Lizzie Manning had endeavored to inspire hope in the despairing ones around her, and was now sitting, with folded hands, upon a blanket, her shawl gathered over her shoulders, and in that attitude was awaiting sleep, when she heard a faint footstep near her, and turning her head, descried the figure of Egbert Rodman advancing, with a hesitating step, in that direction, his actions indicating that he felt considerable doubt as to the propriety of that which he was doing.