The gourd was refilled and emptied a second time; then the Indian himself drank. So did several others of the party which numbered, as the prisoner judged without seeing those behind him, a dozen or more men.
Onward again; the long unbroken strides of the redskins equalling the restless pace of the led mustang upon which the captive rode. He was about to ask if he, also, might get down and walk; hoping to make them understand his gestures if not his words, when a sudden turn of the mountain spur disclosed the picture he had longed to see. Before him, on a terrace-like hill, lay a cluster of adobe huts, or, as it rather seemed, one wide-spreading habitation which might shelter many people.
If his captors did not understand his speech, at least, they did his smile of satisfaction, as he cried:
“A Pueblo village! Then I am safe!”
He eagerly studied it as it lay, gradually rising upon the slope, its succession of roofs appearing like some gigantic stairway. Upon the roofs some women were sitting, weaving. He noticed the ladder-like arrangement, leading from the ground to the top, by which the buildings could be entered; though there were, also, openings here and there upon the level of the foundation. His observation was terminated by somebody’s lifting him from his horse and tieing his own sash over his eyes.
“You shall not! You—shall—not! If I am to die—I’ll die with my eyes wide open!” he screamed, excitedly. For now his fear had returned and he as confidently expected death as he had life, but a moment before.
There followed some talk among those who had been most active in his capture, and then he was again lifted and borne onward, upward, as it seemed, though he could neither see nor help himself save by his shrieks which, however, availed him nothing. Thus, struggling and protesting, he was carried whither his captors chose; and, after what seemed an hour but was only a few minutes, he was unceremoniously dumped upon an earthen floor.
Leaping to his feet he peered around him. He seemed to be alone and he was in darkness.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE EVENING AND THE MORNING
When they left Tuttle for the mountains, the young Manuels had obtained permission to resume their own costumes. They had found the skirts and fitted bodice for Carlota, and the bagging overalls for Carlos, most annoying, and once more arrayed in their familiar garments they “felt like themselves.” Dennis, almost enviously, admired the simplicity of Carlota’s clothing and was proud to attend a maiden so picturesquely attired.