Stoneheart: A Romance

by Gustave Aimard

The capture of the old presidio by the Indians, through the treachery of the vaqueros, was an immense loss to the Mexicans, whose communications with the numerous haciendas on that bank were cut off. Luckily, the colonel, foreseeing a result almost inevitable from the want of troops at his disposal, had withdrawn the whole of the population of the suburb into San Lucar. The houses had been gutted, horses and cattle carried off, and the boats moored under the batteries of the fort, where they were in safety—at least for the present.

It is true the Indians were masters of the suburb; but the success had cost them greater losses than the possession of it was worth. After all, the Mexicans had only lost an insignificant piece of ground, scarcely worth defence; for the old presidio was not the key of the place, of which it was only a questionable dependency, and from which it was separated by the breadth of the river.

Thus the effect of the battle on the two camps was exactly the reverse of what the reader might suppose.

The Mexicans almost congratulated themselves on the loss of a position nearly useless to them in the present state of affairs, and the defence of which could only cost them many valuable lives; while the Apaches asked each other sadly what good the conquest of the suburb had done them, in return for the loss of more than five hundred of their bravest warriors who had fallen.

Two vaqueros, who had been thrown from their horses, had been taken prisoners by the Mexicans during their retreat.

The colonel ordered a court martial to assemble, commanded two high gibbets to be erected a little in advance of the new intrenchments along the river, and had them hung in the sight of the whole population, and of their companions, who had clustered together on the opposite bank of the river, and uttered shouts of impotent rage at seeing them executed.

Don José Kalbris was not naturally cruel; but in this case he justly thought he ought to make an example, in order to intimidate such as might have the inclination to imitate them. A bando (an edict), fixed to the foot of each gibbet, announced that the same fate awaited every revolted vaquero who fell into the hands of the Mexicans.

While this was doing, evening closed in; and the Indians, to annoy the whites, amused themselves by setting fire to the suburb they had taken the night before. The immense volume of flame produced by the conflagration threw fantastic shadows over the camp of the Apaches and the town of San Lucar, whose miserable inhabitants, plunged in the stupor of grief, knew they had no mercy to expect from foes like these.

The colonel seemed made of iron: he did not take a moment's rest, but visited the posts continually, and sought by every means to strengthen the defences of the town.

He and the major had just entered the fort, after making a final round. The night had passed, and the Indians had retreated to their camp, after making a futile attempt to surprise the presidio.