CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE FINAL CHARGE
AT THE earliest streaking of gray in the eastern horizon the three men and Herbert Watrous, all of whom had been sleeping fitfully by turns through the long dismal hours, silently rose to their feet and walked to where the ponies, a short distance off, had resumed their cropping of the grass. They were thirsty, like their masters, but no water was within reach, and they were doing their best to satisfy their hunger.
The outlines of the old adobe mission building showed faintly through the obscurity as the little party headed westward, and advanced at a moderate walk, on the alert for the Apaches, of whom they had detected signs now and then during their wearisome watching.
The action of the red men had puzzled the trapper as well as Strubell and Lattin. It was hard to understand why they had not stumbled on the truth, but there was good reason for believing they were still ignorant of the presence of the white men so near them. It was upon this theory that the success of the daring enterprise was based.
Eph Bozeman placed himself at the head, Herbert coming next, with one of the Texans on either side. The veteran was the best qualified to lead, while the disposition of all was with a view of protecting the younger and less experienced member of the party.
Nothing was seen of their enemies until half the distance was passed, when Lattin, who was on Herbert’s right, exclaimed in an undertone:
“Yonder are the varmints!”
The horses were in excellent condition because of their long rest, and up to this moment moved at a moderate trot. As the Texan spoke, the trapper, who had detected the danger, struck his animal into a brisk gallop, the others doing the same without any urging of their riders.
The Apaches must have relaxed their vigilance toward the latter part of the night, for most, if not all the group, were observed to the south of the structure instead of being near it. They were closer to it, however, than the whites, and showed their daring by immediately riding forward to meet them.
The trapper turned his head and said: “Let ‘em have it the minute they’re near enough to hit.”
These were words which had meaning, and Herbert, like his companions, looked at his Winchester to make sure it was ready for instant service.
“I think they’re all there,” added Lattin.
“I don’t believe it,” remarked Strubell, “for there isn’t more than six or eight.”
“And Nick isn’t with them,” Herbert could not help exclaiming, with a thrill of pleasure.
No reply followed this, which might signify nothing, for all were too intent on what was before them.
The interest deepened each moment. The Apaches, numbering exactly eight, were advancing at a speed fully as great as that of the whites, riding close together and apparently all eagerness for the conflict. They indulged in no shouts, whoops, or gestures, but came on like the grim demons they were.
Each carried his gun, and he was not afraid to use it whenever the chance offered. Nothing could have looked more frightful than they, their chests naked, their irregular features daubed with different colored paint, their long black hair dangling about their shoulders, while each rode like a centaur.
A distance of two hundred yards separated the parties, neither of which had made the slightest variation in its course. Our friends were heading directly toward the building and did not swerve to the right or left. To have done so would have shown fear, and brought the redskins down upon them like a cyclone.
One of two things was inevitable, and that within the space of a few seconds: the Apaches or white men must turn to one side, or there would be a fierce fight. Eph Bozeman and his comrades were resolved to keep on until the noses of their ponies should touch. What was the purpose of the red men must appear immediately.
The break came from an unexpected source. Belden Rickard and Harman Slidham had not forgotten the parting words of the trapper, and were on the watch at the upper front windows. The rapidly increasing light showed the four horsemen coming down the slope, and they saw the Apaches set out to meet them. Matters were on the eve of explosion when Rickard took deliberate sight from his window and fired at the warriors. The shot was a long one, but so accurately aimed that a dusky horseman, with a rasping screech, rolled off his pony, the animal breaking into a gallop, circling away from the others, and, facing toward the building, whinneying with fright and dashing aimlessly hither and thither in a panic.
The other Apaches acted as if the report of the gun was the signal for them to break apart, for they did so with a suddenness that could not have been surpassed had a bombshell burst beneath them.
Several turned to the right and others to the left, while one, as if he absolutely feared nothing, headed his black pony directly at Bozeman and thundered forward on a dead run.
The miscreant was actually charging the whole party.
He emitted a terrifying whoop, leaning almost on his horse’s ears, as he brought his rifle round in front to fire, but a master hand at that business had not taken his eye from him since he started on his daring ride. The raising of the gun and the aiming and firing seemed to take place all together, and in the twinkling of an eye.
“Thar’s one fool less,” was the quiet remark of Eph as he lowered his piece; “now, boys, grab ground.”
His pony was stretching away at headlong speed for the building, the others imitating him so quickly that the four continued in a bunch. “Keep it up,” he added, firing again at their assailants.
Strubell and Lattin discharged their pieces as often as they could take any sort of aim, but the conditions were against accuracy, and there was no evidence that they did any execution.
The Apaches had branched off to the right and left, and kept popping away, with no more success than the white men. They held the marksmanship of the others in such fear that they gave much effort to screening their bodies, by flinging themselves over the sides of their animals and firing from under the neck or directly over it, where little could be seen of the riders except their glaring eyes and their hair, looking as if they were a part of the mane of their ponies, or the black eyes flashed for a moment in front of the breast of the galloping steeds.
It cannot be said that Herbert Watrous felt pleasant when he heard the bullets singing about his ears, and knew that more than one was aimed at him. He did not attempt to reply, but gave his whole attention to urging Jill to his utmost. The building was only a short way off, and the briefest kind of a respite insured safety.
Fortunately his steed was fully the equal of the others in fleetness and did not fall behind. Had it done so he would not have been left by his friends, for all were governed by that devotion which belongs to the highest form of chivalry. There was not one who would not have protected the youth with his life.
Suddenly the broad door at the front of the adobe building was drawn inward. Rickard and Slidham had hurried down to make sure no delay took place at this critical moment.
Herbert Watrous was leaning forward, with his eyes fixed on the avenue to safety, when he felt Jill shudder under the saddle, as if with a sudden chill. He veered to one side, throwing his nose against the shoulder of the trapper’s pony, and staggered uncertainly in the hopeless effort to recover himself, but, unable to do so, plunged forward on his knees and rolled over on his side, gasping his last breath.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CONCLUSION
THE thrusting of the mortally wounded pony’s nose against the shoulder of the trapper’s horse warned both him and Herbert Watrous of what was coming. The latter slipped his feet from the stirrups, and was in the act of leaping to the ground, to attempt to run the short distance to the entrance of the mission building, when the broad right hand of Eph Bozeman slapped him in the broad of the back, clutched his coat, and with one powerful wrench he swung him out of the saddle sinking beneath him, and lifting him over in front of himself on his own steed.
There was not the slightest slackening of speed on the part of the doubly laden animal, who not only held his own, but headed the procession as it dashed through the door, followed by the other two, amid a storm of bullets, as Rickard and Slidham slammed the door shut and fastened it in place.
The whole party was safe, without a scratch, and with only the loss of a single animal.
They could hardly believe their good fortune, until their panting steeds were brought to a halt and the riders slipped to the ground.
Then followed a general handshaking, and it would have been hard to believe that anything like enmity had existed between the men who showed such genuine pleasure at the escape of the little company from the Apaches. But a common danger draws people together, and Rickard and Slidham forgot that but a short time ago they had agreed to return a youth to these same visitors for a certain ransom.
The first thing done after a general exchange of congratulations was on the part of the new arrivals. They made haste to the spring of cool, refreshing water, where they quaffed their fill, their ponies doing the same.
Rickard had made preparations for their coming. From his storehouse of meal and meat he had prepared a nourishing and abundant meal for all. Since there was no grass within the building, the horses were fed with the grain, of which there was sufficient to last several weeks by the exercise of frugality.
The animals having been attended to and the hunger and thirst of the guests being satisfied, the company gathered in the small room where Eph Bozeman had held his interview of the night before. They crowded the place, but all found seats, and they conversed as freely as if they had been friends for years.
“I made a bad break,” said Rickard, with a laugh; “you’ll admit that I worked that plan pretty well, but I didn’t count on the boy giving me the slip at the last minute.”
“Where do you suppose he has gone?” asked Strubell, who did most of the talking for his side, the others listening attentively to every word that was spoken.
“He must have been on the watch when Eph come in; we were all three in this room, talking the matter over, when he slipped out with his pony and has gone, who can say where?”
“It doesn’t look as if the Apaches had caught him.”
“No; I thought they might have done so, but there would have been an outcry if that took place. We wouldn’t have heard the sound of his horse as he rode off, but he would have used his rifle and pistol before allowing himself to be taken, and we must have heard them. He was the pluckiest fellow I ever saw.”
“That’s so,” added Herbert; “Nick Ribsam was a brave boy; he gave me the biggest trouncing I ever had when he wasn’t more than half my size, and there’s no Indian that can down him without having the worst fight of his life.”
“What I don’t understand,” continued Strubell, “is why he should wait until everything was in the best shape for him, and then slip off and knock our plan endways.”
“Didn’t he have any chance of gettin’ away when you was on the road here?” inquired Lattin.
“Well, we watched pretty close, for we knew what he was thinking of; Harman and I were never asleep at the same time, and we didn’t let him have his gun or pistol while on the road.”
Herbert’s heart burned with indignation at these words, but he kept silent. He knew now why Nick had remained passive so long. He was too wise to dash away from his captors and ride out on the open prairie, exposed to innumerable dangers, without a weapon at command. Had he been allowed to retain them he would have made things lively for Bell Rickard.
Rickard stated further that they had no field glass at command, like their pursuers, so that they never caught sight of them, though well convinced they were on their trail. Consequently Nick had not the incentive that would have been his had he felt any assurance of meeting his friends if he fled eastward.
“When we arrived here,” continued the horse thief, “and we knew the Apaches were close outside, why, we let him have his weapons, for it looked as if he might be able to help us against the redskins.”
“Of course when he saw Eph come through the door and join you in this room,” said Strubell, “he had no idea that he came from us; if he had he would have acted differently – ”
“No, he wouldn’t either; you don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout.”
It was the old trapper who uttered this exclamation, after he had held his peace for several minutes. All looked at him wonderingly, for it was not clear what he meant by his abrupt remark. His little eyes shone with a peculiar light, and could his mouth have been seen, a singular smile would have been observed playing around it.
“Boys,” added Eph, straightening up on his seat as he saw every gaze fixed upon him, “shall I tell you something?”
The expression of general interest convinced him that no one could be heard with greater pleasure.
“Last night, after passin’ out the door, a quar idea got into my head. Instead of startin’ on a run to get back to you folks, I stooped down and passed my hands over the ground all round the door. And what do you s’pose I found? Why, thar war the prints of several horses goin’ in, but thar warn’t a single one comin’ out!”
He paused a moment for this astounding announcement to produce its effect. Strubell was the first to catch its full meaning.
“Are you sure of that?” he asked.
“As sure as I’m sittin’ here this minute. What does it mean, tharfore and consequently? Why, that that younker came in with Bell and Harman, but that he haint gone out, which the same means that he’s inside of this buildin’ and aint fifty feet off this very minute, and if thar’s anyone here that don’t b’lieve me, all he’s got to do is to look through that door yonder and tell me whether he don’t see the grinnin’ younker standin’ thar this very minute.”
It so happened that as Eph sat he faced the opening of the little room, and, since every eye was fixed on him, their backs were turned in the other direction. All wheeled like a flash and saw Nick Ribsam in the act of entering the apartment, his honest face expanded into one broad smile, while his hand was extended to greet his old acquaintances.
Herbert Watrous stared with open mouth, unable to believe it was not a dream, until his hand was clasped by that of the best friend he had, outside of his own folks, in the world. Then he saw that it was reality, and greeted the good fellow with a delight which touched even the hearts of Bell Rickard and Harman Slidham.
Enough has been hinted about Nick Ribsam to give the reader a general idea of his experience from the night he was made prisoner by the horse thieves and carried westward into New Mexico. Herbert was correct in his surmise as to why he made no effort to escape while on the long journey. With no firearms at command, with no knowledge of where his friends were, and believing that his captors were only manœuvring for a ransom, he would have disproved all faith in his good sense had he seized any one of the several occasions for parting company with those whom he despised.
He had no suspicion of the business which brought Eph Bozeman to the building, else he would not have played the little deception he did on his captors; but when requested to betake himself to some other part of the structure during the interview, he obeyed, passing into the room which adjoined the one where the ponies had been placed.
Here he struck a match that he might investigate his surroundings. The first thing that caught his attention was a door, which he did not notice until he was at the further end of the apartment, and then he would not have observed it had not his gaze struck it in a peculiar manner.
A brief examination showed that it was intended by the parties who built the mission house as a secret storehouse or retreat in a last emergency. It was so ingeniously constructed that the space occupied was cut off from three other apartments, and the missing portion was not likely to be noticed unless suspicion happened to be turned that way.
The room was long and narrow, and there was space at one end for a horse, ventilation being secured by means of several slits that were cleverly concealed from view. Of course it would not have required a close search for anyone to discover it from the outside, but that search was not made.
The moment Nick stumbled upon the retreat, the idea of a trick came to him. He led Jack into the space, slipped out and unfastened the door to give the impression that he had passed through it, and then returned and ensconced himself within.
The reflection came to him that he had done an exceedingly risky thing in leaving the door unfastened, but he reasoned that he would soon be missed and the open avenue discovered. Then, too, what band of Apaches, or white persons for that matter, would dream of such a piece of negligence on the part of three persons who knew of their danger?
While debating the matter with himself, and when he was on the point of going out to secure the door again, he fell asleep and did not open his eyes until after the arrival of his friends. The reports of the rifles were so dulled by the intervening walls that they had not disturbed him at all.
Eph Bozeman was convinced of the presence of the youth within the building on his failure to find any hoof prints leading outward from the door. He deemed it best to say nothing of this to his companions, since he wanted to give them a surprise, and he did it beyond question.
What pleased the old trapper was the certainty that Bell Rickard, after all, must lose the thousand dollars, for under the circumstances he had no legal claim to it, inasmuch as Nick had escaped from his custody, and he confessed himself unable to perform his part of the contract.
Our friends were one horse short, and the loss was a severe one. It was decided to stay where they were until the Apaches grew tired of the siege, and communication could be opened with other parties. Jim-John and his companion were supposed to be making their way toward the same destination with the pack horses, one of which could be turned to account in case nothing better presented itself.
But at this interesting juncture Bell Rickard, of all others, solved the difficulty in an unexpected manner. He insisted that he had come by his own horse fairly, and he asked the privilege of furnishing it to Herbert Watrous. He said he would wait where he was until the arrival of Jim-John and Brindage, and accept one of the pack horses in exchange. This was finally agreed to, and the transaction was probably the first honest one of the kind in which the fellow had taken part in a long time.
On the second day all signs of the Apaches disappeared. They had carried off the bodies of those who had fallen, and sought more inviting fields for their cruel work.
Instead of pushing on to California, as Nick and Herbert originally intended, they decided to return to San Antonio with Strubell and Lattin. Herbert had fully recovered his health, and, to tell the truth, both boys were homesick. They felt there was no place like their own homes, and the society of their loved ones. They had been granted that which led them across Texas, and why go further?
It is not necessary to give the incidents of their return to the quaint old town of San Antonio, although the journey was marked by many interesting incidents. They arrived there without serious mishap, and, parting company with the Texans and the old trapper, who was liberally rewarded for his services, Nick, just one week later, clasped his father, mother, and sister Nellie in his arms. Herbert stayed a day with him, and then hastened to his home in New York City, where it need not be said he was welcomed with gratitude and affection.
And here the history of Nick Ribsam and Herbert Watrous properly ends. That they will be the same warm, trustful, loving friends through life need not be said, and the good seed sown by the honest young Pennsylvanian in the heart of his city associate will spring up and bear a blessed fruit, the full degree of which can never be known until they enter upon the life to come.