In the wilds of New Mexico

Chapter I. They Decide To Run The Risk

“"Well, Joses,” said Dr. Lascelles, “if you feel afraid, you had better go back to the city.”

A deep silence ensued, and the little party grouped about between a small umbrella shaped tent and the dying embers of the fire, at which a meal of savory antelope steak had lately been cooked, carefully avoided glancing one at the other.

Just inside the entrance to the tent a pretty, slight made girl of about seventeen was seated, busily plying her needle in the repair of some rents in a pair of ornamented loose leather leggins that had evidently been making acquaintance with some of the thorns of this rugged land. She was very simply dressed, and, though wearing the high comb and veil of a Spanish woman, her complexion, tanned as it was, and features suggested that she might have been from New England, as did also the speech of the fine athletic middle aged man who liacl just been speaking.

His appearance was decidedly Spanish, for he wore the short jacket with embroidered sleeves, tight trousers — made very wide about the leg and ankle — sash, and broad sombrero of the Mexican Spaniard.

e

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

The man addressed was a swarthy looking half breed, who lay upon the parched earth, his brow * rugged, his eyes half closed, and lips pouted out in a surly, resentful way, as if he was just about to speak and say something ugly.

Three more men of a similar type were lying beside and behind, all smoking cigarettes, which from time to time they softly rolled up and lighted with a brand at the fire, as they listened to the convocation between the bronzed New Englander and km who had been addressed as Joses.

They were all half breeds, and, like the first speaker, were dressed as Spaniards, each also wearing a handkerchief of bright color tied round his head and beneath his soft hat.

There was another present, however, also an anxious watcher of the scene, and that was a well built youth of about the same age as the girl.

His appearance was different from that of his companions, for he wore a closely fitting tunic and loose breeches of what at the first glance seemed to be tan colored velvet, but a second look showed to be very soft, well prepared deerskin; stout gaiters of a hard leather protected his legs; a belt, looped so as to form a cartridge holder, and a natty little felt hat, completed his costume.

“Well,” said the speaker, after a long pause, “you do not speak; I say, are you afraid?”

“ I dunno, boss,” said the man addressed. “ I don’t feel afraid now, but if a lot of Injuns come whooping and swooping down upon us full gallop, I dessay I should feel a bit queer.”

There was a growl of acquiescence here from the other men, and the first speaker went on.

“ Well,” he said, “ let us understand our position at once. I would rather go on alone than with men I could not trust.”

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

“Always did trust us, boss,” said the man, surlily.

“ Allays,” said the one nearest to him, a swarthier, more surly, and fiercer looking fellow than his companion.

“I always did, Joses; I always did, Juan; and you too, Harry and Sam,” said the fiist speaker. “ I was always proud of the way in which my ranch was protected and my cattle cared for.”

“ We could not help the Injuns stampeding the lot, boss, time after time.”

“And ruining me at last, my lads? No; it was no fault of yours. I suppose it was my own.”

“ No, boss, it was settling so close to the hunting grounds, and the Injuns being so near.”

“ Ah, well, we need not consider how all that came to pass, my lads; we know they ruined me.”

“ And you never killed one o’ them for it, boss,” growled Joses.

“ Nor wished to, my lad. They did not take our lives.”

“But they would if they could have broken in and burnt us out, boss,” growled Joses.

“Perhaps so; well, let us understand one another, Are you afraid ?”

“ Suppose we all are, boss,” said the m^n,

“And you want to go back ?”

“No, not one of us.”

Here there was a growl of satisfaction.

“ But you object to going forward, my men?”

“Well, you see it’s like this, boss; the boys here all want to work for you, and young Master Bart, and Miss Maudie there; but they think you ought to go where it’s safe, and not where we’re ’most sure to be tortured and scalped. There’s lots o’ places where the whites are in plenty.”

“And where every gully and mountain has been jrans^cked for metals, my lad. I want to go where

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

white men have never been before, and search the mountains there.”

“For gold and silver and that sort of thing, boss?”

“ Yes, mj lads.”

“All right, boss; then we suppose you must go.”

“ And you will go back because it is dangerous ?”

“ I never said such a word, boss. I only said it warn’t safe.”

“ And for answer to that, Joses, I say that, danger or no danger, I must try and make up for my past losses by some good venture in one of these unknown regions. Now, then, have you made up your minds ? If not, make them up quickly, and let me know what you mean to do.”

Joses did not turn round to his companions, whose spokesman he was, but said quietly, as he rolled up afresh cigarette:

“Mind’s made up, boss.”

“ And you will go back ?”

“ Yes, boss.”

“All of you?”

“ All of us,” said Joses, slowly. “ When you do,” he added, after a pause.

“ I knew he would say that, sir,” cried the youth, who had been looking on and listening attentively; “I knew Joses would not leave us, nor any of the others.”

“ Stop a moment,” interposed the first speaker. “What about your companions, my lad?”

“What, them?” said Joses, quietly. “Why, they do as I do.”

“ Are you sure ?”

“ Course I am, boss. They told me what to do.”

“Then thank you, my lads. I felt and knew I could trust you. Believe me, I will take you into no greater danger than I can help; but we "must be & in the wilds op new Mexico.

little venturesome in penetrating into new lands, and the Indians may not prove our enemies after all.”

“Ha, ha, ha! haw, haw, haw!” laughed Joses, hoarsely. “You wait and see, boss. They stampeded your cattle when you had any. Now look out, or they’ll stampede you.”

“ Well, we’ll risk it,” said the other. “ Now let's be ready for any danger that comes. Saddle the horses, and tether them close to the wagon. I will have the first watch tonight; you take the second, Joses; and you, Bart, take the third. Get to sleep -early, my lads, for I want to be off before sunrise in the morning.”

The men nodded their willingness to obey orders, and soon after all were hushed in sleep, the ever wakeful stars only looking down upon one erect figure, and that was the form of Dr. Lascelles, as he stood near the faintly glowing fire, leaning upon his rifle, and listening intently for the faintest sound of danger.

As the doctor stood watching there, his thoughts naturally went back to the events of the past day, the sixth since they had bidden good by to civilization and started upon their expedition. He thought of the remonstrance offered by his men to their proceeding farther; then of the satisfactory way in which the difficulty had been settled; and later on of the troubles brought up by his man’s remarks. He recalled the weary years he had spent upon his cattle farm, in which he had invested after the death of his wife in New England; how he had come out to New Mexico, and settled down to form a cattle breeding establishment, with his young daughter Maude for companion.

Then he thought how everything had gone wrong, not only with him, but with his neighbors, one of the nearest being killed by an onslaught of a savage tribe of Indians, the news being brought to him by the son of the slaughtered man. The result had been that the doctor had determined to flee at once; but the day was put off, and as no more troubles presented themselves just then, he once more settled down.

Young Bart Woodlaw, the murdered ranchman’s boy, became by degrees almost as it were a son to the doctor, and the fight was continued till herd after herd had been swept away by the Indians; and at last Dr. Lascelles, the clever physician who had wearied of his lonely home and his practice after his terrible loss, and who had come out West to seek rest and make money for his child, found himself next to a beggar and obliged to begin life again.

Earlier in life he had been a great lover of geology, and was something of a mineralogist; and though he had of late devoted himself to the wild, rough life of a Western cattle rancher, he had now and then spent a few hours in exploring the mountainous parts of the country near; so that when he had once more to look the world in the face and decide whether he should settle down as some more successful cattle breeder’s foreman, the idea occurred to him that his knowledge of geology might prove useful in this painful strait.

He jumped at the idea.

“Of course; why not? Scores of men had made discoveries of gold, silver, and other valuable metals, and the result had been fortunes. Why should not he do something of the kind ?”

He mentioned the idea to Bartholomew Woodlaw, who jumped at the prospect, but looked grave directly after.

“I should like it, Mr. Lascelles,” he said, “but there is Maud,”

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

“ What of her ?” said the doctor.

“ How could we take her into the wilds?”

“ It would be safer to take her into the deserts and mountains than to leave her here,” said the doctor, bitterly. “ I should at least always have her under my eye.”

He went out and told his men, who were hanging about the old ranch, although there was no work for them to do.

One minute they were looking dull and gloomy, the next they were waving their hats and blankets in the air, and the result of it all was that in less than a month Dr. Lascelles had stored a wagon with the wreck of his fortune, purchased a small tent for his daughter’s use, and, all well armed, the little party had started off into the wilds of New Mexico, bound for the mountain region, where the doctor hoped to make some discovery of mineral treasure sufficient to recompense him for all his risk, as well as for the losses of the past.

They Avere, then, six days out Avhen there was what had seemed to be a sort of mutiny among his men — a trouble that he Avas in the act, of quelling Avhen we made his acquaintance in the last chapter — though, as AA r e have seen, it proved to be no mutiny at all, but merely a remonstrance, on the part of the rough, honest fellows Avho had decided to share his fortunes, against running into what they esteemed to be unnecessary risks,

CHAPTER IL

THE FIRST APACHES.

Evening was closing in, and the ruddy horizontal rays of the sun were casting long, grotesque shadows of the tall cactus plants, when a body of Indians, about a hundred strong, rode over the plain towards the rocks where Dr. Lascelles and his little party were encamped.

The appearance of the Indians denoted that they were on the war path. Each wore a rude tiara of feathers around his head, beneath which hung his long black hair; and, saving their fringed and ornamented leggins, the men rode for the most part naked, and with their breasts and arms painted in a coarse and extravagant style.

All were fully armed, some carrying rifles, others bows and arrows, while a few bore spears, from the top of whose shafts below the blades hung tufts of feathers.

The rugged nature of the ground separated the party of Indians from the doctor’s little camp, so that the approach of the war party was quite unobserved, and apparently, from their movements, they were equally unaware of the presence of a camp of the hated whites so near at hand.

They were very quiet, riding slowly and in regular order, as if moved by one impulse; and when the foremost men halted, all drew rein by some tolerably verdant patches of the plain, blankets and robes

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

were unstrapped, and the horses allowed to graze. In an incredibly short time the band had half a dozen fires burning of wood that had been hastily collected, and they were ravenously devouring the strips of dried buffalo meat that had been hanging all day in the hot sun, to be peppered with dust from the plain.

This, however, did not trouble the savages, whom one learned in the lore of the plains would have immediately set down as belonging to a powerful tribe of horse Indians — the Apaches, well known for their prowess in war and their skill as wild horsemen of the plains. They feasted on, like men whose appetites had become furious from long fasting, until at last they had satisfied their hunger, and the evening shadows were making the great plants of cactus stand up, weird and strange, against the fast darkening evening sky; then, while the embers of the fire grew more ruddy and bright, each Indian, save those deputed to look after the horses and keep on the watch for danger, drew his blanket or buffalo robe over his naked shoulders, filled and lit his long pipe, and began silently and thoughtfully to smoke.

Meanwhile, in utter unconsciousness of the nearness of danger, Dr. Lascelles continued his watch thus far into the night. From time to time he examined the tethering of the horses, and glanced inside the tent to stand and listen to the regular low breathing of his child, and then walk to where, rolled in his blanket, Bart Woodlaw lay sleeping in full confidence that a good watch was being kept over the camp as he slept.

Away towards the open plains it was clear and transparent, but towards the rocks that stretched there on one side all seemed black. Not a sound fell upon the doctor’s ear, and so great was the still-

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

ness that the dull crackle of a piece of smoldering wood sounded painfully loud and strange.

At last the time had come for arousing some one to take his place, and walking, after a few moments’ thought, to where Bart lay, he bent down and touched him lightly on the arm.

In an instant, rifle in hand, the lad was upon his feet.

“ Is there danger ?” he said, in a low, quiet whisper.

“I hope not, Bart,” said the doctor, quietly; “everything is perfectly still. I shall lie down in front of the tent; wake me if you hear a sound.”

The lad nodded, and then stood trying to shake off the drowsiness that still remained after his deep sleep while he watched the doctor’s figure grow indistinct as he walked towards the dimly seen tent. He could just make out that the doctor bent down, and then he seemed to disappear.

Bart had been watching the stars for about an hour, staring at the distant plain, and trying to make out what was the real shape of a pile of rock that sheltered them on the north, and which seemed to stand out peculiarly clear against the dark sky, when, turning sharply, he brought his rifle to the ready, and stood, with beating heart, staring at a tall dark figure a dozen yards aw r ay.

It was so dark that he could make out nothing more, only that it w r as a man, and that he did not move.

Bart’s first idea was that this must be an enemy, and tliat he ought to fire. If an enemy, it must be an Indian; but then it did not look like an Indian; and Bart knew that it was his duty to w r alk boldly up to the figure, and see what the danger was; and in this spirit he took one step forward, and then stopped, for it was not an easy thing to do.

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

At last lie mastered himself, and, with rifle lielcp ready, walked boldly towards the figure, believing that it was some specimen of the fleshy growth of the region to which the darkness had added a weirdness all its own.

No. It was a man undoubtedly, and as, nerving himself more and more, Bart walked close up, the figure turned and said slowly:

“ I can’t quite make that out, Master Bart.”

“You, Joses !” exclaimed Bart, whose heart seemed to give a bound of delight.

“ Yes, sir, I thought I'd get up and watch for a bit, and just as I looked round before coming to you, that rock took my fancy.”

“ Yes, it does look quaint and strange,” said Bart; “I had been watching it.”

“ Yes, but why do it kok quaint and strange?” said Joses, in a low, quiet whisper, speaking as if a dozen savages were at his elbow.

“ Because we can see it against the sky,” replied Bart, who felt half amused at the importance placed by his companion upon such a trifle.

“ And why can you see it against the sky ?” said Joses again. “ Strikes me there’s a fire over yonder.”

Bart was about to exclaim, “ What nonsense !” but he recalled the times when out hunting up stray cattle Joses had displayed a perception that had seemed almost marvelous, and so he held his tongue.

“ I’ll take a turn out yonder, my lad,” he said, quietly; “ I won’t be very long.”

“ Shall I wake up the doctor?”

“ No, not yet. Let him get a good rest,” replied Joses. “ Perhaps it’s nothing to mind; but coming out here we must be always ready to find danger, and danger must find us on the lookout.”

IN THE WILDS OP NEW MEXICO.

“ I’ll go with you,” said Bart, eagerly.

“No, that won’t do,” said the rough fellow sturdily. “You’ve got to keep watch like they tell me the sailors do out at sea. Who’s to take care of the camp if you go away?”

“ I’ll stay then,” said Bart, with a sigh of dissatisfaction, and the next moment he was alone. For Joses had thrown down his blanket, and laid his rifle upon it carefully, while over the lock he had placed his broad Spanish hat to keep off the moisture of the night air. Then he had gone silently off at a trot over the short and scrubby growth near at hand.

The rough cattle driver and plainsman continued his trot till the broken nature of the ground compelled him to proceed cautiously, threading his way in and out amongst the masses of rock, and forcing him to make a considerable detour before he passed the ridge of stone.

His first act was to drop down on hands and knees, his next to lie flat and drag himself slowly forward a couple of hundred yards, and then stop.

It was quite time that he did, for on either hand, as well as in front, lay groups of Indians, while just beyond he could distinguish the horses calmly cropping the grass and other herbage near. So still w as it, and so closely had he approached, that every mouthful seized by the horses sounded quite plainty upon his ear, while more than once came the mutterings of some heavy sleeper, with an occasional hasty movement on the part of some one who was restless.

Joses had found out all he wanted, and the next thing was to get back and give the alarm. But, as is often the case in such matters, it was easier to come than to return. It had to be done, though, for the position of those in the little camp was one

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

fall of peril, and, turning softly, he had begun his retrograde movement, when a figure he had not seen suddenly uttered an impatient “Ugh!” and started to his feet.

Joses’s hand went to his belt and grasped his knife, but that was all. It was not the time for taking to headlong flight, an act which would have brought the whole band whooping and yelling at his heels.

Fortunately for the spy in the Indian camp, the night was darker now, a thin veil of cloud having swept over the stars; otherwise the fate of Dr. Lascelles’s expedition would have been sealed. As it was, the Indian kicked the form beside him heavily with his moccasined foot, and then walked slowly away in the direction of the horses.

Some men would have continued their retreat at once, perhaps hurriedly, but Joses was too old a campaigner for such an act. As he lay there with his face buried deeply in the short herbage, he thought to himself that most probably the waking up of the Indian who had just gone, the kick, and the striding away, would have aroused some of the others, and in this belief he lay perfectly still for quite ten minutes.

Then, feeling satisfied that he might continue his retreat, he was drawing himself together for a fresh start, when a man on his right leaped to his feet, another did the same, and after talking together for a few moments, they, too, went off in the direction of the horses.

This decided Joses upon a fresh wait, which he kept up till feeling that, safe or unsafe, he must make the venture, he once more started, crawling slowly along without making a sound, till he felt it safe to rise to his hands and knees, when he got over the ground far more swiftly, ending by spring-

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

in g to his feet, and listening intently for a few moments, when there was the faint neigh of a horse from the Indian camp.

“If one of ours hears that,” muttered Joses, “he’ll answer, and the Indians will be down upon us before we know where we are.”

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

Chapter III. Surrounded By Indians

Bart Woodlaw had not been keeping his renewed watch long before he heard a step behind him, and, turning sharply, found himself face to face with Dr. Lascelles.

“ Well, my boy,” he said, “ is all right?”

“ I think so, sir. Did you hear anything ?”

“ No, my boy; I woke up and just came to see how matters were going. Any alarm ?”

“ Yes, sir, and no, sir,” replied Bart.

“ What do you mean ?” exclaimed the doctor, sharply.

“Only that Joses woke up, sir, and I found him watching that mass of rock which you can see out yonder. That one, sir — no ! — I can’t see it now.”

“Why,” said the doctor, in a quick, low, decisive tone; “is it darker now?”

“Very little, sir; but perhaps Joses was right; he said he thought there must be a fire out there to make it stand out so clearly, and ”

“ Well, speak, my boy ! Be quick !”

“ Perhaps he was right, sir, but I cannot see the rock there at all.”

“ Where is Joses ? Why did he not go and see ?” exclaimed the doctor sharply.

“ He has been gone nearly an hour, sir, and I was expecting him back when you came.”

“ That’s right ! But which way ? Joses must

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

feel that there is danger, or he would not have left the camp like this.”

Bart pointed in the direction taken by their follower, and the doctor took a few hasty strides forward, as if to follow, but he came back directly.

“No. It would be folly,” he said; “I should not find him out in this wild. Depend upon it, Bart, that was an Indian fire and camp out beyond the ridge yonder, and he suspected it. These old plainsmen read every sign of earth and sky, and we must learn to do the same, boy, for it may mean the saving of our lives.”

“ I’ll try it,” said Bart, earnestly. “ I can follow a trail a little now.”

“ Yes, and your eyes are wonderfully keen,” replied the doctor. “ You have all the acute sense of one of these hunters, but you want the power of applying what you see, and learning its meaning.”

Bart was about to reply, but the doctor began walking up and down impatiently, for being more used than his ward in the ways of the plains, he could not help feeling sure that there was danger, and this idea grew upon him to such an extent that at last he roused the men from their sleep, bidding them silently get the horses ready for an immediate start, should it be necessary; and while this was going on he went into the tent.

“Maude — my child — quick!” he said, quietly. “ Don’t be alarmed, but wake up, and be ready for a long ride before dawn.”

Maude was well accustomed to obey promptly all her father’s orders, and so used to the emergencies and perils of frontier life, that she said nothing, but rapidly prepared for their start, and in a tew minutes she was ready with all her little traveling possessions in the saddle bags and valise that were strapped to her horse.

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

Just as the doctor had seen that all was nearly ready, and that scarcely anything more remained to be done than to strike the little tent, Joses came running up.

“Well! what news ?” said the doctor, hurriedly.

“ Injuns — hundreds — mile away,” said the plainsman, in quick, sharp tones. “ Hah ! good !” he added, as he saw the preparations that had been made.

“ Bart, see to Maude’s horse. Down with the tent, Joses; Harry, help him. You, Juan and Sam, see to the horses.”

Every order was obeyed with the promptitude displayed in men accustomed to a life on the plains, and in a very few minutes the tent was down, rolled up, and on the side of the wagon, the steeds were ready, and all mounting save Juan, who took his place in front of the wagon to drive its two horses, Dr. Lascelles gave the word. Joses went to the front to act as pioneer, and pick a way unincumbered with stones, so that the wagon might go on in safety, and the camp was left behind.

Everything depended now upon silence. A shrill neigh from a mare would have betrayed them; even the louder rattle of the wagon wheels might have had that result, and brought upon them the marauding party, with a result that the doctor shuddered to contemplate.

There were moments when, in the face of such a danger, he felt disposed to make his way back to civilization, dreading now to take his child out with him into the wilderness. But there was something so tempting in the freedom of the life; he felt so sanguine of turning his knowledge of mineralogy to some account; and what was more, it seemed so cowardly to turn back now, that he decided to go forward and risk all.

IN THE WILDS OF NEW MEXICO.

“We always have our rifles,” he said, softly, to himself; “and if we can use them well, we may force the Indians to respect us.”

They were journeying nearly due north, and so far they had got on quite a couple of miles without a horse uttering its shrill neigh. It was possible now, silent as was the night, their cry might not reach the keen ears of their enemies; but all the same, the party proceeded as cautiously as possible, and, beyond an order now and then given in a low voice, there was not a word uttered.

It was hard work, too; for, jiroceeding as they were in comparative darkness, every now and then a horse would place its foot in the burrow of some animal, and nearly fall headlong. Then, too, in spite of all care and pioneering, a wheel of the wagon would sink into some hollow or be brought heavily against the side of a rock.

Sometimes they had to alter their direction to avoid rapidly rising ground, and these obstacles became so many, that towards morning they came to a halt, regularly puzzled, and not knowing whether they were journeying away from or towards their enemies.

A couple of dreary hours ensued, during which they could do nothing but wait for daybreak, which, when it came at last, seemed cold and black and dreary.