This might seem an odd circumstance, yet it does not to the savages. From experience they know that all animals belonging to the palefaces become affrighted at their own proximity—often to break from their fastenings, however secure. Such a scare is likely what they see now.
All the more does it assure them they will not have to deal with soldados. These would have their horses under better discipline, would indeed by this time be on their backs, at least some of them.
Satisfied of its being a camp of civilians, at a signal sent along their line the red horsemen make a move forward, their files becoming thicker as the cordon contracts into nearer and narrower curve. Still they advance slowly, not through fear or want of confidence, but because they feel sure their enfiladement is complete, and their victims enclosed. But another idea rules their cautious approach. A splendid prize is before them in that large ca Callada, and to ride hurriedly in might lead to the loose animals breaking through their ranks, and scattering off over the plain, with after difficulty of capturing them. For just then they might have enough to do with their owners. Besides, there can be no surprise. The occupants of the camp, whoever they be, must have seen them long since, and are watching them now, though not one of themselves can be seen. Nothing so strange in this; they are inside the wagon enclosure, screened by the ridge of alparejas that form a sort of breastwork around it. And the ruck of frightened animals rushing to and fro between further prevents view of them. The more reason for deliberate approach, this attitude of the white men telling of an intention to stand upon the defence.
Becoming convinced of this, the Indians give up thought of immediate attack. They will wait for the night’s darkness to give them a better opportunity; and when at such a distance as they deem beyond longest gun range, they again come to a halt.
They would dismount, holding their horses in readiness; and some are already on the ground. But before all alight, a word is sent along their circular line, ordering them up again. Something has transpired to give cause for a change of purpose.
Soon they know what, seeing that the camp animals have retreated back beyond the wagons up into an embayment of the cliff, where they stand in a clump, cowering and still showing scare, but at rest. It is not that, however, which has made the Coyoteros re-mount, but because their view of the camp now being clear they still cannot see human beings in or around it. With eyes bent in keenest quest between the corralled wagons, through the spokes of their wheels, all along the periphery of pack-saddles, nothing in the shape of human form or face can they make out. Yet the sun is in their favour, and if such was there they could not fail seeing it. Puzzled are the savages now, and for the first time—since it is the first time for them to have such an experience. For the moment it even mystifies them, and thoughts of the supernatural come creeping into their minds. They know Nauchampa-tepetl to be a place of weird repute, so figuring in many a record and legend of their race. And now to see a camp there, a camp of the palefaces, with every appointment appertaining, wheeled vehicles drawn up in corral with a grand tent inside—for the marquee, still standing, is conspicuous through a break between the wagons—with all the animals that should be there, and yet no man, no one seeming to own or control them, that is certainly strange, to the point of astonishment—even awe!
And for a time it so affects the savage warriors, their chief not excepted. But only for a time. Notwithstanding his ghostly coat-of-arms, El Cascabel is but little the slave of superstition; and, after a moment’s reflection, feels satisfied there are palefaces in the camp, though invisible to the view of him and his. In that, as the reader knows, he is wrong; but right in the way he takes to test it.
It may seem the veriest grotesquerie here to introduce that venerated weapon, known as the “Queen Anne musket,” yet the truthfulness of this record requires its introduction.
For strange as it may appear, this historical piece, with all its imperfections, has found its way to every corner of the world; even into the hands of the Apache Indians. How they became possessed of it needs but a word of explanation, which is, that they had it—took it—from their hereditary enemies, the Mexicans—from the infanterio of that nation, armed with the old condemned “Queen Anne’s” of London Tower celebrity.