“Bring up the atajo!” shouted Seguin, as he descended the ladder with his daughter.
A signal was given; and shortly after the mules, in charge of the arrieros, came stringing across the plain.
“Collect all the dry meat that can be found. Let it be packed as speedily as possible.”
In front of most of the houses there were strings of tasajo hanging against the walls. There were also dried fruits and vegetables, chile, roots of the kamas, and skin-bags filled with pinons and choke-berries.
The meat was soon brought together, and several of the men assisted the arrieros in packing it.
“There will be barely enough,” said Seguin. “Here, Rube,” continued he, calling to the old trapper; “pick out your prisoners. Twenty will be as many as we can take. You know them: chose those most likely to tempt an exchange.”
So saying, the chief turned off towards the atajo, leading his daughter with the intention of mounting her on one of the mules.
Rube proceeded to obey the orders given him. In a short time he had collected a number of unresisting captives, and had put them aside from the rest. They were principally girls and young lads, whose dress and features bespoke them of the noblesse of the nation, the children of chiefs and warriors.
This movement was not regarded in silence. The men had drawn together, and commenced talking in loud and mutinous language.
“Wagh!” exclaimed Kirker, a fellow of brutal aspect; “thar are wives apiece, boys: why not every man help himself? Why not?”