This was the only time that we spoke of Pablo while we lay at Huitzilan, for talk about the boy only increased the bitter sorrow for him that was in all our hearts. As for my own heart, it was wellnigh broken as I thought that but for me his gentle life would still be flowing on smoothly—as I had found it flowing when, in an evil hour, I joined his fortunes with mine, and so had brought him to so untimely and to so cruel a death. And I, too, longed for the fighting to begin that I might avenge him; for the accomplishment of which vengeance I was not merely in part, but altogether ready to yield up my own life.
Indeed, excepting only Fray Antonio, who saw in warfare only the wickedness and the cruelty of it, we all were most eager for our inaction to end, and for the battling to begin that would give us opportunity to let the life out of some of those by whom Pablo had been slain. It was with delight, therefore, that we noted the rapidity with which the preparations for the impending campaign were carried forward, and saw how each day the disorderly host that had been gathered at Huitzilan was changing from a confused mass of good fighting material into a body fairly well adapted to the needs of war. It was, in truth, astonishing to us—for we could not well comprehend how essentially warlike were the instincts of this people, and how quick, therefore, they must be in military matters—to observe the promptness that was shown in getting our army in readiness for the field. And with our astonishment came also a comforting conviction that the force that could be so quickly, and, as it seemed, so effectively organized, must surely hold well together, and fight well together, when the hour for fighting came.
XXVII.
AN OFFER OF TERMS.
During the time that our various preparations thus went forward we had no direct news from the stronghold of the enemy; yet many vague rumors reached us of the army that was being set in order there to take the field against us. On the other hand, the constant departure from among us of those who were loyal to the ancient government kept the Priest Captain well informed of all that was in progress in our camp. No effort was made by the Council to prevent these departures, for all of our plans were working so well, and our forces were increasing so prodigiously, that it was to our advantage that the enemy should have news of our rapidly augmenting strength; and especially was it hoped that the news thus carried to the city might incline many there who wavered in their allegiance to take open part with us—or, at the least, to refuse to take part against us—and that in this way there might be stirred up a very dangerous spirit of mutiny within the enemy's lines.
The plan of campaign that the Council had adopted struck me as being an exceedingly prudent one. This was that we should not attempt an attack upon the city—for, indeed, to assail such fortifications without artillery would have been utterly hopeless—but should wait until the enemy came out to assail us, and then meet him on our own chosen ground. In every way this plan was in our favor. It most obviously was to our advantage to delay as long as possible the battle that was inevitable, and that, when it did come, must decide the fate of the rebellion finally. Every day that this was deferred was a substantial gain to us, in that the organization of our army was thereby rendered the more complete, and also in that the effective hold of the new government upon the people throughout the valley was thereby strengthened. On the side of the enemy, delay would produce no corresponding gain, rather would it tend to weaken the hold of the Priest Captain upon those who remained faithful to him; and, being shut up with his whole army and a multitude of non-combatants within those great stone walls, a very terrible foe, against which stone walls are no defence, presently would attack him in the shape of hunger. Therefore we had only to wait—maintaining the while a vigilant patrol of guard-boats on the lake, so that no fresh supplies might reach the garrison in the city—in the sure conviction that our foe would of his own accord come forth to give us battle, and that we then would have the advantage of standing wholly on the defensive until some happy turn of chance should so favor us that we would risk nothing in making an assault.
It was a very fortunate thing for us that matters stood in this way; for wellnigh the whole of the trained army of the Aztlanecas was with the Priest Captain, and against this well-disciplined body of men our own hastily assembled and imperfectly organized army would have made but a poor showing had we met on equal terms. Even under the existing circumstances, so favorable in many ways to our success, Tizoc and the other military officers who were with us did not at all disguise their anxiety as to what might be the outcome of the battle so soon to be fought; and especially did they dread some well-planned stealthy movement of the enemy, by which our camp might be suddenly set upon and fairly carried before our own untrained forces could be rallied from the bewilderment and confusion into which they would be thrown by the shock of such surprise.
Rayburn, who had seen a good deal of Indian fighting in his time, fully shared in this feeling of anxiety. "Indian fights, you see," he said, "are not like any other kind of fights. The side that wins has got to do it with a whoop and a hurrah. Indians haven't got any staying power in them. They can't hold out against anybody who stands up against them squarely, and won't be scared by a howling rush into running away. That's the reason why our little bit of an army at home is strong enough to police our whole Indian frontier. A single troop of our boys—if the fighting's square, and they haven't been corralled in an ambush—can stand off a whole tribe; and they can do it because they just get their backs together and won't give in. What bothers me about the fight that we're going to have is that the regulars are on the other side. Of course, being Indians too, regulars like these don't amount to much; but they are bound to be a long chalk better than this rowdy crowd of ours. We've got a pretty fair chance to win, because we're in a strong position, and because our people mean to wait until the other fellows come at 'em; but I tell you what it is, if ever they manage to get inside here, or if ever we go outside after them—that is, while they're fresh and full of fight—it's bound to be all day with us. These miners, and the rest of this Tlahuico outfit, will fight like wild-cats as long as they're on top, but every bit of fight will go right out of them the minute they find that they're beginning to get underneath. That's the Indian way. I'm trying hard to believe that our crowd will whip the other crowd; but I must say, Professor, that I'm not betting on it."
"Well, I'm bettin' on it, and bettin' on it high," said Young. "I don't pretend t' know as much about this sort o' thing as Rayburn does; but I do think I know a live devil when I see one—an' these miners are about as lively an' about as devilly as anything that ever broke loose from hell. They're just as full o' th' wickedest sort o' fight as they can stick in their ugly skins, an' they're just sick for a chance t' let it get out of 'em. All we've got t' do is t' worry th' other crowd for a while by lettin' 'em monkey around tryin' t' bag us; an' then, when they've been pretty well shot off, an' are gettin' tired, just make a rush for 'em an' scoop 'em in. Regulars or no regulars, these miners 'll go through 'em like a limited express; an' the' first thing th' Priest Captain knows we'll have walloped him right smack out o' th' baggy things he wears on his feet an' thinks are boots. That's th' size of it, Rayburn. That's what's goin' t' happen right here—an' don't you forget it! An' then, if there's any way out o' this d—n valley, we'll load up with dollars an' pull out for home."