Chapter Eighteen.
Life on the Lost Mountain.
The exciting events above recorded, as occurring in quick succession, are followed by a period of repose lasting for days. Alike reigns it on the mountain summit and around its base; in the camp of the besieged as of the besiegers.
Withal, in the latter there is no lack of activity; parties go and come at all hours, but more especially during those of the night. Scouts sent out; it may be for many purposes. But one large detail is observed on a certain day to make the complete round of the mountain, every here and there halting with front towards it, as if for minute examination of its cliffs from base to summit; evidently to be satisfied whether there be any possible chance for the white men to reach the plain otherwise than down that chine cut by the watercourse.
While making this reconnaissance they have been narrowly watched by eyes from above, and as no particular point has been observed to attract their attention, it is concluded that they deem their pale-faced prisoners quite secure, only calling for a little patience ere they may evidently lay hands on them.
The same movement also gives assurance to their intended victims, but of a kind not so satisfactory. It tells them how determined their enemy is, how retentive his grasp, and implacable his vengeance. All this with no increased hope on their part of being able to escape him. Thought of how has not yet taken shape in their minds. How could it? So many present facts and fears engrossing them, they have found little time to reflect on the future.
And a new fear has now arisen which calls for steps to be taken. There may be other grizzly bears on the mesa, and if so these monsters will be prowling around the camp to assail it at any instant. Better they be met outside at a distance off, there attacked, and if possible exterminated.
This conclusion come to, Don Estevan gives orders for all to arm, and a general battue is made over the summit of the Cerro. Paths are hacked through the underwood everywhere, laying open many a spot never before trodden by foot of man. Strange birds are flushed from their nests, and strange animals are seen stealing away through the thick tangle of llianas, chiefly of the reptilian order, as armadillos, lizards, the curious horned frog (Agama cornuta), and serpents—most numerous of all that whose retreat is marked by the defiant rattle which has given it its name. Scores of cascabelés are started out of the dead leaves and branches, their vibratory “skirr” resounding everywhere.
But quadrupeds turn up as well. At intervals the crack of gun tells of one shot at, whether killed or no. Now a wild sheep, now a prong-horn antelope, or it may be but a hare or rabbit. The great wolf is also found there, and his lesser and more cowardly congener, the coyote; but no more bears—grizzly or other—nor sign of them. Evidently the two killed at the camp were the sole monarchs of the mountain.
The day’s hunt, for it occupied a whole day, gives satisfaction in more ways than one. First, by doing away with all apprehension of danger from Ursus ferox; secondly, by affording a plentiful supply of present food; and, thirdly, in there being still more on the mountain, giving proof of the abundance of them.