These stages travelled very fast, stopping only at lonely stations for meals and change of horses.
It was a little past midnight; the moon had gone down, and the only sounds audible were the rumble of the coach and the distant howling of wolves. “Thirteen miles from a human habitation!” thought Jack, and a feeling akin to fear crept over him. He could not close his eyes although his companion snored loudly.
[C]Suddenly the stage came to a dead stop and crack! crack! went one shot after another. In the darkness and mélee that followed, Jack crawled out unperceived into a mesquit[D] tangle a few yards distant. The driver and his fellow passenger were summarily dispatched, their bodies and the stage plundered, and, undoing the fastenings, the desperadoes rode off with the horses. All this occurred in less time than is taken in recounting the awful deed.
[C] Improbable as this incident seems, there are authentic accounts of similar occurrences that took place in this region at about the time of this story.
[D] Mesquit: “Either of two thorny shrubs or small trees of the bean family found in Texas or California—the larger and better known is the honey-mesquit, yielding the sweetish algarroba—pods much used for cattle-fodder.”
Jack waited for a full quarter of an hour before he dared approach the stage. Only too well had the desperadoes done their work even in the darkness. An overpowering sense of dread came over him as he realized that he was the only remaining passenger and on a lonely plain, infested with wolves. Even now they were scenting blood, and their howls were growing nearer. One thing was certain, he must get away from this spot immediately, but where to? The darkness was so intense that he could not see two feet before him. But oh, kind Providence! in wandering about he stumbled against a tree and none too soon for as a long-drawn howl announced their approach, and the wolves pounced upon the bodies of his companions, snarling viciously as they tore them limb from limb, Jack could only be thankful for his own miraculous escape.
The wolf is a cowardly animal and never attacks a human being by daylight, nor unless goaded by hunger and sure of his position. They continued snapping and snarling for a long time. Jack was perched upon a limb out of all danger, and gradually a certain sense of humor stole over him. He was a fine whistler and often at home receptions had entertained guests with selections accompanied by the guitar. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he emitted a long-drawn whistle and as if by magic all sounds from below ceased. The experiment having gratified him beyond all expectation, Jack persevered. One selection followed another until finally the pack of probably ten wolves could be heard slinking off through the mesquit bushes.
Jack laughed softly as he said aloud,—“What would Celeste think of that for an audience?”
It was now growing perceptibly lighter. The blossom pole of the yuccas appeared like an array of bayonets and the heavy odor of the night-blooming cereus was wafted to him on the cool breezes. Soon the sun showed its yellow face on the distant horizon, shedding a warm glow over the prairie already brilliant with flowers whose names he knew not. The stage road wound like a ribbon over the plain which rose and fell “like billows on a pulseless ocean.”
Climbing down, Jack returned to the road and tramped on westward. Oh, for a drink of water; but nowhere was any to be found! One sink-hole after another was explored, only to find baked clay instead of the precious fluid. His throat grew parched as he tramped along under the burning sun, and each hour seemingly left him no farther on. All day long he plodded with no water and nothing but berries to eat.