Silence closed about the central group. A horse is more to a cavalryman than to others, and the Captain stood with bent head, eager to be away, yet loath to disturb the sacredness of that moment. The young subaltern, whom his superior had dubbed “Facetious,” felt a strange pain in his throat. Till then the raid had been a “lark,” a something to break the monotony of camp life. Full of enthusiasm concerning his first skirmish with the redskins, the possible outcome of the affair had not entered his mind. Suddenly, he seemed to see his mother’s face. As that noble Benoni was dying in the wilderness so might he die—that very day.
All at once Benoni groaned and desperately tried to lift his head. His eyes brightened, his ears bent forward, his whole attitude was that of intent listening. He was frontier born and bred. He had been in a deadly conflict between white men and savages, and he had not forgotten. Horses never forget that which has terrified them in their youth. Something too faint for ears not sharpened by agony was on the air. Would those whom he loved hear it in time?
“Noni! You precious! You are trying to tell us something! What is it, my pretty beastie? Oh! you brave, beautiful fellow! I cannot remember when you weren’t always with us. You must not, must not die now!”
Poor Noni! It was useless. They would not be warned. He could serve them no further. His dumb, silent life had been one long example of duty faithfully performed. His virtues had been many, his faults few. He had been well loved and he had loved much. He had done what he could and he would sleep now. His glazing eyes fixed on the face of his little mistress, but she could not see his parting gaze because of the tears which filled her own.
Just then, while the deeply moved old Captain stooped to raise Carlota to her feet, the sanctity of the forest death-chamber was invaded.
“Sw-w-ish!”
Something whizzed swift and sharp between soldier and child, grazing his shoulder and her blond curls, and buried itself in the herbage a dozen feet away.
It was the arrow of an Apache!
CHAPTER XIII
BY THE CAPTAIN’S ORDERS
Toward sunset of that same day the little squad of cavalry was slowly crossing the plain. It would not reach camp that night and was watchful, though not expectant, of assault.