"One would satisfy me. Oh dear! Why can't we know something about them!" responded Mrs. Evans, and the broken serenity helped Vic.
Perhaps it was as well that no letter came, since any written from Cold Spring would have carried the dark tidings which Colonel Evans was bringing home with him.
Captain Moore made a push that morning straight across the desert, that he might reach water and pasturage before noon if possible. The sun was hot, and frequent halts were needful for the horses, but the forced march was made with perfect success.
"Well, boys," exclaimed the captain, at last, "I'm glad to see grass again."
"Seven hours," the sergeant responded, "is a sharp pull, captain; how far do you think we've come?"
"Twenty-five miles of gravel," said the captain. "There! Glad of that!"
A whoop from a Chiricahua scout, in advance, announced at that moment that water had been found. It was a tree-shaded pool, evidently fed by springs. Around it was a bit of forest, and outside of that were scattered patches of chaparral.
"Well on my way home!" groaned Colonel Evans, "and Cal is not with me."
Through all that weary ride Ping and Tah-nu-nu had plodded along cheerfully. They had talked with anybody who wished to have a chat, and had given no token of discontent. They did not look at all like a pair of plotters, but they had conferred much in their own tongue when no Chiricahua was within hearing. They had plenty of opportunities, for those three red-men had undergone a change. Even the story-teller had been moody and silent ever since the great spirit of the Manitou Water.
Although of another band, which had become nominally friendly to the pale-faces, the Chiricahuas were as much Apaches as were the Mescaleros, and had been every way as bitterly opposed to life on any Reservation. Their present friendship was with American blue-coats only, and not with Mexicans, and Kah-go-mish had smitten their old enemies in a way to merit their approbation. All that, and their traditions and superstitions, laid a capital foundation for the Manitou Water to work upon. To their minds they had been notified that it was "bad medicine" for them to do anything against Kah-go-mish upon his present war-path. If they were ever to kill him, it must be at some future time when things were going against him and his medicine was defective.