The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

by Joseph A. Altsheler

"Wichitas, Wacos, Kechies, and Quapaws live around in the hills and mountains," he said, "and this, I take it, was a little camp of Kechies, from the looks of the lodges. Two or three groups of them may be lingering yet in this region, but we haven't much to fear from them."

Woodfall, intending at first to make the stay only four or five days, decided now to protract it to ten or twelve. The journey to Santa Fé was one of tremendous length and hardship. Moreover, a buffalo hunter, straying in, told them that the Comanches were very active all over the Texas plains. Hence the Santa Fé train would need all its strength, and Woodfall was anxious that every one of the wounded should be in fighting condition when they left the timber. Therefore the delay.

Phil was glad of the added stay in the hills. He was developing great skill as a hunter and a trailer, and he and his comrades wandered farther and farther every day into the broken forest region toward the north. Oftenest he and Bill Breakstone were together. Despite the difference in years, they had become brothers of the wilderness. In their scoutings they found available pathways for horses over the hills and among the great trees, and, starting, one morning, they rode far to the north, covering thirty or forty miles. Phil was interested in some high mountains which showed a dim blue ahead, and Breakstone was carefully examining the rock formations. But as night came on they found that the hills were dropping down, and the mountains seemed to be about as blue and as far ahead as ever.

"I should judge from these signs," said Breakstone, "that there is a valley or narrow plain ahead, between us and the mountains. But we'll look into that to-morrow. It isn't good to be riding around in the dark over hills and through thickets."

They found a little grassy open space, where they tethered their horses, leaving them to graze as long as they wished, and, lighting no fire, they ate jerked buffalo meat. Then they crept into snug coverts under the bushes, wrapped their blankets about them, and fell asleep. Phil opened his eyes at daylight to find Breakstone already awake. The horses were grazing contentedly. The trees and bushes were already tipped with fire by the gorgeous Texas sun.

"Sir Philip of the Bushes," said Bill Breakstone, "you just lie here and chew up a buffalo or two, while I go ahead and take a look. As I said last night, these hills certainly drop down into a plain, and I want to see that plain."

"All right," said Phil, "I'll stay where I am. It's so snug in this blanket on a cool morning that I don't care to move anyhow, and I can eat my breakfast lying down."

He drew out a freshly jerked strip of buffalo meat, and another very tender portion of a black-tailed deer that he himself had shot, and fell to it. Bill Breakstone, his rifle held conveniently at his side, slid away among the bushes. Phil ate contentedly. The sun rose higher. The morning was absolutely still. The horses seemed to have had enough grass, and lay down placidly on their sides. It occurred to Phil that he, too, had eaten enough, and he put the remainder of the food back in his hunter's knapsack. Then he began to get drowsy again. It was so very still. He thought once of rising and walking about, but he remembered Breakstone's advice to lie still, and, against his will, he kept it. Then his drowsiness increased, and, before he was aware of it he was asleep again.

When Phil awoke the second time, he threw off his blanket and sprang to his feet in surprise. The sun was high up in the blue arch. It must be at least ten o'clock in the morning, and Bill Breakstone had not come back. The horses were on their feet and were grazing again. They were proof that nothing had disturbed the glade. But Bill Breakstone was not there. Nor had he come back and gone away again. If he had done so, he would have awakened the boy. He had been absent three or four hours, and Phil was alarmed.

The boy stood up, holding his hand on the hammer of his rifle. This beautiful day, with its blue skies above and its green forest below, oppressed him. It was so still, so silent, and Bill Breakstone had vanished so utterly, just as if he had been turned into thin air by the wave of a magician's wand! The boy was alone in the wilderness for the first time. Moreover, he felt the presence of danger, and the queer little shiver which often comes at such moments ran through his blood. But the shiver passed, and his courage rose. He had no thought of going back to the camp to report that Bill Breakstone was missing. No, he would find him himself. That was his duty to his comrade.