“I’m saving it all up for them,” said Captain Miguel, laughingly, as a low murmur of impatience under so much insult ran through his men. “Wait a bit, and they will not find us such cowards as they think.”
“I should like your lancers to make one dash at them though, captain,” said Bart one evening when, evidently growing more confident as their numbers increased, the Apachés had been more daring than usual, swooping down, riding round and round as if a ring of riderless horses were circling about the camp, for the savages hung along their horses so that only a leg and arm would be visible, while they kept up a desultory fire from beneath their horses’ necks.
“Bah! let the miserable mosquitoes be,” said the captain, contemptuously. “We have not much farther to go, I suppose.”
“I hope to show you the mountain to-morrow,” replied Bart.
“Then they can wait for their chastisement for another day or two. Come now, my excitable young friend, you think I have been rather quiet and tame with these wretches, don’t you?”
Bart’s face grew scarlet.
“Well, sir, yes, I do,” he said, frankly.
“Well spoken,” said the governor, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Yes,” said Captain Miguel, “well spoken; but you are wrong, my boy. I have longed for days past to lead my men in a good dashing charge, and drive these savage animals back to their dens; but I am a soldier in command, and I have to think of my men as well as my own feelings. These fifty men are to me worth all the Indian nations, and I cannot spare one life, no, not one drop of blood, unless it is to give these creatures such a blow as will cow them and teach them to respect a civilised people, who ask nothing of them but to be left alone. Wait a little longer, my lad; the time has not yet come.”
That night strong outposts were formed, for the Indians were about in great force; but no attack was made, and at daybreak, on a lovely morning, they were once more in motion, while, to Bart’s great surprise, though he swept the plain in every direction, not an Indian was to be seen.