A council of war was held and they were undetermined the best course to pursue. To walk back one hundred miles to El Paso and pack grub, blankets and water was no picnic. On the other hand, it was probably seventy-five miles to the Pecos, but they finally decided to take the shortest way to assistance, which proved the traditional longest way. They determined to stay within the friendly adobe of the old stage stand until night. To keep up appearances they rigged up two dummy sentinels and put them on guard. They had no fear of an attack at night, especially as they had a dog to keep watch. They left the station at dark. Shep, the dog, wanted to go with them, but the men put a sack of corn and a side of bacon under the ambulance and made him understand he was to guard it. They then set out and followed the old stage route along a horrible road of deep sand. At daybreak they were near the point of the Guadalupe Peak, and after having traveled on foot about twenty-five miles they were pretty well worn out.
The old stage road here turns to the right and gradually winds around the mountain to get on the mesa land. It makes quite a circuit before getting to the next water, Pine Springs, but there was an old Indian trail that leads up the canyon and straight through. As Andrews and Wiswall were afoot and taking all the short cuts, they took this trail. It was late in the day when, in a sudden bend of the trail, they came in full view of an entire village of Indians coming towards them. The redskins were only two or three hundred yards off and discovered the white men at once.
Under such circumstances the two pedestrians had to think quickly and act at once. They could not hope to escape by running, for most of the Indians were mounted. Fortunately, to the south of the trail there was a sharp sugar loaf peak, and for this Andrews and Wiswall made with all speed. Reaching the summit they hastily threw up breastworks of loose rocks and as soon as the Indians came into sight they opened fire on them. The redskins returned the fire, but soon discovered they were wasting ammunition and ceased firing. The besieged, suspicious of some stratagem, kept a sharp lookout, and soon discovered the Indians were crawling upward to the barricade and pushing boulders before them to shelter their bodies. The boys decided to keep perfectly still, one on each side, and watch for a chance to kill a savage.
The watcher on the west side, where the fading light still enabled him to see, saw a mop of black hair rise cautiously over an advancing rock. He fired at once. The head disappeared and the boulder went thundering down the hill with the two white men running over the warrior, who was kicking around like a chicken with its head cut off. As good luck would have it most of the attackers were on the east side, taking it for granted the men would try to escape in that direction. Before the astonished Apaches could understand just what was occurring, the men, running like old black-tailed bucks, were out of hearing, while night spread her dark mantle over them in kindness. Being good woodsmen, the fugitives had no trouble in shaping their course to Crow Flat again.
Worn out and weary after traveling more than fifty miles on foot and with not a wink of sleep for thirty-six hours, they made the old stage stand and found their dummy sentinels still on guard with the faithful shepherd dog at his post. He was overjoyed at the return of his masters. At the old adobe station Andrews and Wiswall were in a measure safe, for they had water and grub and the walls of the stand, five feet or more high, would shelter them. Since the Apaches had made no attempt to kill the dog or rob the ambulance, the miners were satisfied that the Indians, after stealing their horses, had kept on their way to the Mescalero Agency, near Tularosa. This stage station was on the highway of these murderous, thieving rascals, who were constantly raiding Texas and Chihuahua, and in their raids they had made a deep trail leading north from Crow Flat or Crow Springs, as some call it, toward the Sacramento Mountains.
After the fugitives had rested they decided they would pull out after dark and hoof it for Ysleta. The fifty miles' walk over a rough country had pretty well worn out their shoes, so they used gunny sacks to tie up their sore and bleeding feet. Again giving Shep his orders, with heavy hearts Andrews and Wiswall turned their faces to the Cornudos Mountains, with the next stage station twenty-five miles distant without one drop of water on the way. They were so tired and foot-sore they did not reach Cornudos until late the next day. Here they hid in the rocks, among the shady nooks of which they found cold water and sweet rest. After several days the two men dragged their weary bodies, more dead than alive, into Ysleta and to the ranger camp.
Lieutenant Baylor ordered me to take eight rangers, and with two mules, proceed to Crow Flat to bring in the ambulance Andrews and Wiswall had abandoned there. The first day we made the Hueco Tanks. Hueco is Spanish for tanks, and in the early days travelers spelled it Waco. Many wild adventures have occurred at these tanks—fights between the Mexicans and the Comanches. During the gold excitement this was the main immigrant route to California. Here, too, the overland stage route had a stand. The names of Marcy, General Lee, and thousands of others could be seen written on the rocks. The Indians themselves had drawn many rude pictures, one of which was quite artistic and depicted a huge rattlesnake on the rock under the cave near the stage stand on the eastern side of Hueco.
Many times when scouting in the Sacramento and Guadalupe Mountains I have camped for the night in the Huecos. Sometimes the water in the tanks had been all used up by the travelers but there was always plenty of good cool rain water twenty-five feet above the main ground tanks. Often I have watered my entire command by scaling the mountain to those hidden tanks and, filling our boots and hats with water, poured it on the flat, roof-like rocks so it would run down into the tanks below where our horses and mules would be watered in good shape. The city of El Paso, I am told, now has a fine graded road to those old historic mountains and many of its citizens enjoy an outing there.
Our next halt was at the Alamose, across the beautiful plains, at that time covered with antelope that could be seen scudding away with their swift change of color looking like a flock of white birds. Here we found some Indian signs at the flat above the springs, but it was at Cornudos that we again saw the old signs of the Apaches. This Cornudos is a strange conglomeration of dark granite rocks shot high in the air in the midst of the plains by some eruption of the earth in ages past. This was the favorite watering place of the Tularosa Agency Indians on their raids into Texas and Mexico.