Chapter Thirty Seven.
A wild Night-ride.
“Yes, Bart,” said the Doctor, “we have a horse now for a messenger, but I dare not send you; and if you lent Black Boy to the Beaver and sent him, I am sure the governor would never respond to my appeal for help. I should be doubtful even if I sent Joses.”
“Black Boy would not let Joses mount him, sir,” replied Bart; “he never would.”
“I dare not send you,” said the Doctor again.
“Why not, sir? I could find my way,” replied Bart excitedly. “Trust me, and I will go and tell the governor such a tale that you will see he will send us a squadron or two of lancers, and horses and cattle for our help.”
“I do not like sending you, Bart,” said the Doctor again, shaking his head. “No, we will wait and see how matters turn out.”
The silver-mining went on merrily, and universal satisfaction was felt by the people, who were too busy to think of the rate at which provisions were failing; but the Doctor thought of it deeply, and he knew that help must be sent for if they were to exist.
They had made two or three excursions into the canyon and brought up large quantities of salmon, and what was dearer to the hearts of all, large pieces of virgin silver; and after the last excursion it had been determined to risk the coming of the Indians, and work the rich deposits of silver below, when, the very next morning at daybreak, the Beaver announced the coming of the Apachés.
“And now,” he said quietly to Bart and Joses, “the Beaver’s young men will get back many horses.”