It was a night of surprises, and the greatest of his life now came to him.
Maroz and Ceballos held the same position as before and were talking apparently about the captive, concerning whom the spy was anxious to secure information; but a third Indian was present. He must have come during the few minutes the scout was out of sight of camp. His coming was as skillful as that of Mendez himself, for he had heard and seen nothing of him. That singular intuition which revealed the presence of another, when invisible to the eye and inaudible to the ear, was not always with Mendez, or he would have discovered his approach.
The new arrival was standing erect, between the couple on the ground and the fire, with his back toward the latter. He was talking, and while holding his rifle in one hand gesticulated with the other. The same indefinable something in his appearance and manner told Mendez that he was the warrior whom he had seen a short time before.
But the face of the Apache was in shadow, and for several minutes he could not identify him. At the end of that time, however, he suddenly turned, so that the firelight fell upon his countenance. And then, as Mendez looked, he recognized him as Cemuri, his companion of years, whom he was certain was slain by Maroz within the preceding twenty-four hours.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CONCLUSION.
It must not be supposed, from what has been related about Mendez, the White Mountain scout, that he was superior to the weaknesses peculiar to his race. That he was brave, loyal to the whites, cunning, full of resources and a consummate master of woodcraft, was conceded by his bitterest enemies; but while he possessed these admirable traits, it must be stated that he shared the unfortunate fondness of his people for intoxicants. At times he indulged in this love for the frightful decoction, “tiswin,” which, as has been made known elsewhere, is the product of fermented corn, and is one of the most villainous forms of “fire-water” conceivable.
Had Mendez related the particulars of the outbreak of Maroz and Ceballos, he would have stated that he, Cemuri and they were indulging their weakness and that, humiliating as the confession must have been, he fell more under its influence than any one of them. In fact, he was so far gone that his recollection of the affray was always exceedingly misty. He recalled that, like the explosion of a bombshell, the party suddenly became engaged in a fierce conflict, in which he was the principal offender, and in some way he was slightly wounded and then left alone. The facts that afterward came to light were of an interesting character.
It is a physiological fact that intoxicants remove the sense of moral restraint in a person, or, as it has been expressed, a man, when under their influence, will do that which he would do when sober if he dared; in other words, while in that condition he acts out his natural self.