[XXII]
POOR TABEAU PAYS THE PRICE
Scalp Camp was christened this camp, of April 25 and 26, at the Agua de Tomaso or Thomas Spring, latitude 35° 13′ 08″, longitude 116° 23′ 28″, on the Old Spanish Trail in the northern part of the San Bernardino Desert, southeastern California. Ahead upon the trail was the camping-spot of the Archilette, where had been made the attack upon the caravan camp. Thither by forced march proceeded the company.
The Mexican Fuentes informed that the first stretch awaiting was a dry journey of forty or fifty miles. To avoid the heat of day the company pushed on at once, as the sun was setting. While northeastwardly they travelled, by the warm moonlight were revealed to them many white skeletons of horses and mules, strewn along the way; and this was the sign of a dry jornada. Forty-three miles were put behind ere halt was made, before dawn, at a salty, swampy place, illy fitted to refresh. The moon had sunk; but here also the light of dawn disclosed skeletons of animals which had perished from weakness.
On the morning of April 29 they were traversing a singularly silent, blasted country of blackish ridges and twisted, squat, repulsive cactus.
“The Archilette is just beyond, señor capitan,” directed Fuentes.
With eyes and ears alert the advance quickened their pace. From a low ridge of bare rocks Fuentes pointed to a spot of brush and greenness in a sandy basin before.
“That is it,” he said.
“Come, boys!” urged the lieutenant. “Charge it.” And down at a gallop, rifles and carbines ready, they galloped—the lieutenant on his gray Sacramento keeping the front, Kit racing him hard, Godey and Tabeau and Talbot and Jacob, eager Oliver and anxious Fuentes and little Pablo, and all, thudding to overtake.
But the spring of the Archilette lay unresponsive, seemingly without life. Only, before a willow lean-to which had been a shelter was the mutilated body of Pablo’s father, the Hernandez, with both legs and one arm missing. He had stood stanch in defence of his wife. Near by, in another willow lean-to, was the body of Santiago Giacome, a powerful frame, also pierced with arrows. The savages long had departed, and they must have borne with them the mother of Pablo and the wife of Fuentes.
While the party were sorrowfully regarding, out from the bushes crept a small Mexican lap-dog—suddenly, with glad yelps to leap upon Pablo’s legs and lick his hand. The Hernandez dog he was; and not having been noted by the Indians he had remained in lonely vigil here, at this dreadful place, watching and waiting. How glad he was to see Pablo his young master! Pablo picked him up, and carrying him walked along wailing, distracted: