How vividly it all came back to him as he pressed rapidly forward after his companions; his heart grew hot within him while he pictured to himself the girl whose charming face he knew so well, and whom he had come to regard with such a friendly liking, now in the grasp of ruthless hands. Well, he would rescue, if indeed any rescue were possible, or perish in the attempt.
"More he could not; less he would not;
Forwards, till the work be done."
The hoof-strokes of the mare seemed to beat time to the verse.
He overtook the cacique and the two younger men just where the trail they were following left the valley and entered the mountains. It was rougher going here, and Alejandro jumped off and ran behind to ease the mule as they pushed in single file up the rocky path. After journeying thus for some time they came to a beautiful little grassy park of a few acres, ringed around with dark pines, and with a small stream running through it. The Indians dismounted; the prospector sat in his saddle and looked at them. Were they in earnest in this expedition, or were they only trifling with him? They had hardly been going three hours, and here they were calling a halt already.
"Dismount for a short instant, Sooshiuamo," said the cacique. "We will give the beasts water here, and let them eat a few mouthfuls of grass. It is better so."
Stephens was not aware that it was the custom of the Indians to halt every couple of hours or so on a journey; they believe that the few minutes' rest given thus to their horses enables them to last out better, while American frontiersmen commonly make longer stages and longer halts. But as he had deliberately put himself under the guidance of these men, he thought it better to adopt their methods. He slacked his cinch, and, pulling off the bridle, allowed the mare to graze.
The Indians rolled cigarettes and smoked.
"Beautiful place, Sooshiuamo," said the cacique, who was standing up and looking around admiringly on the little valley. "How good the mountain grass is. I love this valley."
"Yes, it's just what you say, Cacique," answered Stephens; he knew the Indians loved this country which they now, as always, regarded as their own. He often wondered how much they felt the beauty of it in their souls, or whether with them it was a sort of physical instinct, like the yearning horses and cattle feel for their native pastures.