They set out. The adventurers were not disturbed in their rapid flight, and, as Marksman had announced, on the afternoon of the fourth day the party crossed a ford of the Rio Gila and entered Sonora. As they advanced, however, on the Mexican territory, the hunter's brow grew gloomier, and the glances he turned in every direction denoted an anxious mind. The fact was, that the country, which should have appeared at this season so luxuriant in vegetation, looked so strange and desolate as to chill the heart. The fields turned up and trampled by horses' hoofs; the ruins of burnt jacales, scattered here and there; ashes piled up at places where mills must once have stood, evidenced that war had passed along the road, with all the horrors that march after it. About two leagues off, the houses of a fortified pueblo an old presidio, could be seen glistening in the last beams of the sun. All was calm in the vicinity; but the calmness was that of death. Not a human being was visible; no manada appeared on the desolated prairie; the recuas of the mules, the calls of the nena, could neither be seen nor heard. On all sides, a leaden silence, a mournful tranquillity, brooded over the scene, and imparted to it, in the gay light of the sun, a crushing aspect. Suddenly Brighteye, who rode a little ahead of the party, pulled up his horse, which had shied so violently as nearly to throw him, and looked down with a cry of surprise. Don Miguel and Marksman hurried up to him. A frightful spectacle offered itself to the three men. At the bottom of a ditch that ran along the road, a pile of Spanish corpses lay pell-mell, horribly disfigured and stripped of their scalps. Don Miguel ordered a halt, not knowing whether to advance or retire; it was permissible to doubt under such circumstances. If they pushed on to the presidio, it was probably deserted, or perhaps the Redskins had seized on it. Still some determination must be formed within an hour. Don Miguel at length noticed a ruined hacienda about five miles to their right; though precarious, the shelter it afforded was better than bivouacking on the plain. The adventurers pushed on, and soon reached the farm. The hacienda bore traces of fire and devastation; the cracked walls were blackened with smoke, the windows and doors broken in, and several male and female bodies, half consumed, were piled up in the patio. Don Miguel led the trembling girls to a room, after the ruins choking the entrance had been removed; then, after urging them not to leave it, he joined his companions, who, under Brighteye's directions, were settling themselves as well as they could in the hacienda. Marksman had gone out scouting with Ruperto. Don Mariano, excited by paternal love, had turned engineer, and with the help of a dozen adventurers, was putting the house in the best state of defence possible.
Like all Mexican frontier haciendas, this one was surrounded by a tall crenelated wall. Don Miguel had the gate blocked up; then, returning to the house, he ordered the doors and windows to be put in, had loopholes pierced, and placed sentries round the wall and on the azotea. After this, he gave Brighteye the command of twelve resolute men, and ordered them to ambush behind a wood covered mound, which rose about two hundred yards from the hacienda. He then counted his forces; including Don Mariano and his two servants, he had but twenty-one men with him; but they were adventurers, determined to die to the last man rather than surrender. Don Miguel did not lose all hope, and when these precautions were taken, he waited. Ruperto soon arrived, and his report was not reassuring.
The Redskins had seized the presidio by surprise. The town had been plundered, then abandoned; it was completely deserted. Numerous parties of Apaches were visible in all directions, and it seemed certain that the adventurers could not proceed a league from the hacienda without falling into an ambuscade.
Marksman at length arrived. He brought with him forty Mexican soldiers and peasants, who had been wandering about at hazard for two days, at the risk of being surprised by the Redskins, who pitilessly massacred every white man who fell into their hands. Don Miguel gladly received this unexpected help—a reinforcement of forty men was not to be despised, especially as they were all armed, and capable of doing good service. Marksman, as a good forager, also brought with him several mules laden with provisions. The worthy Canadian thought of everything, and nothing escaped him. When the men had been stationed at the spots most exposed to a surprise, Don Miguel and Marksman ascended the azotea, to have a look at the neighbourhood.
Nothing had changed; the plain was still deserted. The calm was of evil augury. The sun set in a mass of red vapour; the light suddenly lessened, and night arrived, with its darkness and its mysteries. Don Miguel, leaving the Canadian alone, went down to the apartment which served as a refuge to the three females. The ladies were seated, sad and silent.
Eglantine walked up to him.
"What does my sister want?" the young man asked.
"Eglantine wishes to go," she answered, in her soft voice.
"What, go!" he exclaimed, in surprise; "it is impossible. The night is dark; my sister would run too much danger on the plain; the calcis of her tribe are far away on the prairie."
Eglantine assumed her usual pout as she shook her head. "Eglantine will go," she said, impatiently. "My brother will give her a horse; she must join Flying Eagle."