We stayed all that day by the Navajo village, to recruit our animals and prepare for our homeward journey across the desert. The plundered cattle were collected. Some were slaughtered for immediate use, and the rest placed in charge of vaqueros, to be driven on the hoof. Most of the Indian horses were lassoed and brought in, some to be ridden by the rescued captives, others as the booty of the conquerors. But it was not safe to remain long in the valley. There were other tribes of the Navajoes to the north, who would soon be down upon us. There were their allies, the great nations of the Apaches to the south, and the Nijoras to the west; and we knew that all these would unite and follow on our trail. The object of the expedition was attained, at least as far as its leader had designed it. A great number of captives were recovered, whose friends had long since mourned them as lost for ever. It would be some time before they would renew those savage forays in which they had annually desolated the pueblos of the frontier.
By sunrise of the next day we had repassed the cañon, and were riding towards the snowy mountain.
Chapter Fifty Six.
El Paso Del Norte.
I will not describe the recrossing of the desert plains, nor will I detail the incidents of our homeward journey. With all its hardships and weariness, to me it was a pleasant one. It is a pleasure to attend upon her we love, and that along the route was my chief duty. The smiles I received far more than repaid me for the labour I underwent in its discharge. But it was not labour. It was no labour to fill her xuages with fresh water at every spring or runlet, to spread the blanket softly over her saddle, to weave her a quitasol out of the broad leaves of the palmilla, to assist her in mounting and dismounting. No; that was not labour to me.
We were happy as we journeyed. I was happy, for I knew that I had fulfilled my contract and won my bride; and the very remembrance of the perils through which we had so lately passed heightened the happiness of both. But one thing cast an occasional gloom over our thoughts—the queen, Adèle.
She was returning to the home of her childhood, not voluntarily, but as a captive—captive to her own kindred, her father and mother!
Throughout the journey both these waited upon her with tender assiduity, almost constantly gazing at her with sad and silent looks. There was woe in their hearts.