When all are gone, and the Lost Mountain again left to tranquillity and solitude, it is for days the scene of a spectacle telling of the terrible strife which had occurred. The wolves and coyotes have gathered from afar, and over the bodies of the slain savages left unburied, with those of their horses killed in the encounter, hold riot and revel.
There, too, are the black vultures, some in the air, some on the ground, in flocks so thick as to darken both earth and sky. They anticipated a plenteous repast—they have not been disappointed.
Chapter Thirty Four.
At the Altar.
The last scene of our tale lies in the pueblita of Santa Gertrudes; a mining village chiefly supported by the minera bearing the same name, whose works, with the specialities of crushing-sheds, smelting-houses, and tall chimneys, are seen just outside its suburbs.
All have a modern look, as well they may. On the ground where they stand, but three years before grew a thick chapparal of mezquite, cactus, yucca, and other plants characteristic of desert vegetation. For Santa Gertrudes is in the very heart of the Sonora desert, remote from any other civilised settlement.
Its prosperity, however, has attracted settlers; for not only does the population of the village itself receive constant increase, but many fertile tracts in the country around have been taken up, and are occupied by a goodly number of graziers and agriculturists, whose chief purpose is to supply the comestibles required by the miners and their dependants.
The growth of Santa Gertrudes has been remarkably rapid, almost unprecedently so. From the first opening of the mine, every vein worked has proved a bonanza, enriching the owners, Don Estevan Villanueva and Robert Tresillian. For it is the vela discovered, denounced, and made over to them by Pedro Vicente.