Chapter Thirty Three.
The Thunder Guns.
As is their custom, the savages advance with loud cries and gestures of menace, intended to terrify their antagonists.
They have got several miles out from the mountain, and almost within charging distance, when they see that which brings them to sudden halt—a thing above all others dreaded by the American aboriginal—cannon “thunder guns”—as they call them. The brass howitzers, hitherto screened by the vanguard of cavalry, have been thrown to the front, instantly unlimbered, and so brought under their eyes. Then a flash, a vomiting of flame and smoke, a loud ringing report, followed by the hurtling of a shell in its flight through the air. It drops in their midst and instantly explodes, its severed fragments dealing death around.
Too much this for Coyotero courage; and without waiting for other like destructive missiles to follow, they turn tail and gallop back towards the camp. Not that they have any hope of safety there, for they believe the great thunder guns can reach them anywhere, and their flight towards it is but the impulse of a confused fear.
The sentries, seeing them in retreat, alike frightened by the report of the howitzers, forsake their posts, each hastening towards a horse—his own.
For a time the captive women are unguarded, seemingly forgotten. It gives the gambusino a cue; and, acting upon it, he again calls out as before in the Opata tongue,
“Sisters! now’s your time! Up and out of the corral; make round to the lake, fast as you can run, and on into the ravine. There you’ll find friends to meet you.”
Listening to his counsel, as one the captive women resolve to act upon it; for they are now cognisant of what is going on, and fully comprehend the situation.