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 MATOEREID 
 
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 THE LOST MOUNTAIN 
 
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THE COYOTERO CAMP. — p. 58 
 
THE 
 
 LOST MOUNTAIN 
 
 A TALE OF SONORA 
 
 BY 
 
 CAPTAIN MAYNE REID 
 
 
 :-. WTSF 
 
 LONDON 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS 
 
 BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL 
 NEW YORK: 9 LAFAYETTE PLACE 
 
 1SS5. 
 
4^M 
 
 CAPTAIN MAYNE REID'S BOOKS. 
 
 Afloat In the Forest. 
 The Boy Hunters; ". 
 The Boy Slaves. *. # ." 
 The Boy Tar. 
 Bruin. .'. " I .1 •' 
 The BJisli Soys.I .' 
 The ClifT'ClimbeVS. 
 The Desert Home 
 The Fatal Cord. 
 The Forest Exiles. 
 Gaspar, the Gaucho 
 The Giraffe Hunters 
 The Guerilla Chief 
 The Half Blood. 
 The Headless Horseman. 
 The Hunter's Feast. 
 Lost Lenore 
 The Maroon 
 
 I # _Ocean Waifs. 
 ;OcM^Pev>ple. 
 ^Tlje'PI&nt Hunters. 
 
 The Quadroon. 
 *RarC Av^ay»fo> Sea. 
 ^The! Ffif/e Rangers. 
 *THe* Scalp Hunters 
 
 The Tiger Hunter. 
 
 The War Trail. 
 
 The White Chief. 
 
 White Gauntlet. 
 
 The White Squaw 
 
 The Wild Huntress. 
 
 The Wood Rangers. 
 
 The Young Voyageurs. 
 
 The Young Yagers 
 
 The Chase of Leviathan 
 
 The Lone Ranche. 
 
 "There was not, we believe, a word in his books which 
 a schoolboy could not read aloud to his mother and 
 sisters." — Standard. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 -WWW— 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WANT OF WATER ...... x 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE "COYOTEROS" 1 3 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A RUSH FOR WATER - - ... 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EL OJO DE AGUA 32 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LOS GUAJALOTES 4 1 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A HOMERIC REPAST 54 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LOS INDIOS ! 66 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TENDER LEAVE-TAKINGS 80 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 "it's THE rattlesnake" .... - 88 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 an enfilading line 96 
 
 jvii71755 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL PACB 
 
 A CAMP WITHOUT OCCUPANTS - 106 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE CHASE OF CRUSADER - - - • -114 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A RETRIBUTIVE SHOT - - - •• - - 1 23 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 the "death fandango" 131 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NOT LOST YET 142 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 an unlooked-for enemy 149 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CRUSADER CHASED AGAIN 160 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 LIFE ON THE LOST MOUNTAIN 168 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ^YHO TO BE THE FOPLORN HOPE? - - - - 1 76 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A FATAL FAILURE 1 83 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A PRODIGIOUS LEAP 1 89 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A YOUTHFUL VOLUNTEER - 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A RIDE IN MID-AIR 208 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ONCE MORE UPON CRUSADER 215 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 UP THE CLIFF AGAIN 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 DISTANCED— NO DANGER NOW . - - - 2 30 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 IN PAINFUL SUSPENSE 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 FRIENDS IN FEAR 247 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 TO THE RESCUE - 256 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE RAIDERS RETURNED 264 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE RESCUERS EN ROUTE 272 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 SUCCOUR IN SIGHT 282 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE THUNDER GUNS ....-- 29I 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 AT THE ALTAR 299 
 
 
THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WANT OF WATER. 
 
 \lRAf ElCcrroPerdido!" (See! The 
 Lost Mountain !) 
 
 The man who thus exclaims is 
 seated in a high-peak saddle, on the back of 
 a small sinewy horse. Not alone, as may be 
 deduced from his words ; instead, in company 
 with other men on horseback, quite a score of 
 them. There are several wagons, too ; large 
 cumbrous vehicles, each with a team of eight 
 mules attached. Other mules, pack animals, 
 form an atajo or train, which extends in a long 
 
 i 
 
2 :"•: i : :$?* lost mountain. 
 
 line rearward, and back beyond this a drove of 
 cattle in charge of two or three drovers — these 
 mounted, as a matter of course. 
 
 The place is in the middle of a vast plain, 
 one of the llanos of Sonora, near the northern 
 frontier of this sparsely inhabited state. And 
 the men themselves, or most of them, are miners, 
 as might be told by certain peculiarities of 
 costume, further evinced by a paraphernalia 
 of mining tools and machinery seen under the 
 canvas tilts of the wagons. There are women 
 seen there too, with children of both sexes and 
 every age ; for it is a complete mining estab- 
 lishment on the move from a vela, worn out 
 and abandoned, to one late discovered and still 
 unworked. 
 
 Save two of the party all are Mexicans 
 though not of like race. Among them may 
 be noted every shade of complexion, from the 
 ruddy white of the Biscayan Spaniard to the 
 copper-brown of the aboriginal, many being 
 pure-blooded Opata Indians, one of the tribes 
 called mansos (tamed). Distinctive points of 
 
IN WAXT OF WATEIi. 
 
 dress also, both as to quality and cut, denote 
 difference in rank and callings. There are 
 miners pur sang — these in the majority ; team- 
 sters who drive the wagons; arrieros and mozos 
 of the mule train; vaqueros with the cattle; and 
 several others, male and female, whose garb 
 and manner proclaim them household servants. 
 The man who has called out differs from all 
 the rest in costume as in calling, for he is a 
 gambusino, or professional gold-seeker. A suc- 
 cessful one, too ; since he it is who discovered 
 the vcta above spoken of, in the Great Sonora 
 Desert, near the border-line of Arizona. " De- 
 nounced " it as well — that is, made declara- 
 tion and registration of the discovery, which, 
 by Mexican law, makes the mine his own, 
 with exclusive right of working it. But he is 
 not its owner now. Without sufficient means 
 to undertake the exploitation, he has transferred 
 his interest to those who can — Yillanueva and 
 Tresillian, a wealthy mining firm, long estab- 
 lished near the town of Arispc, with all their 
 employes and a complete apparatus for exca- 
 
 I — 2 
 
THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 vating, crushing, and amalgamating — furniture 
 and household gods added — are en route for 
 the new-found lode, with high hopes it may 
 prove a "bonanza." It is their caravan that 
 is halted on the plain, for to halt it has come 
 at a hail from the gambusino himself, acting as 
 its guide. 
 
 He is some distance in advance of the wagons 
 with two other horsemen, to whom his speech 
 is particularly addressed. For they are the 
 chiefs of the caravan — the masters and partners 
 of the mining company composing it. One of 
 them, somewhat over middle age, is Don 
 Estevan Yillanueva, a born Mexican, but with 
 features of pure Spanish type, from his Anda- 
 lusian ancestry. He is somewhat the senior of 
 the two, and senior partner of the firm, the 
 junior being Robert Tresillian, an Englishman, 
 and native of Cornwall. 
 
 Up to that moment there had been anxiety 
 on the countenances of both, as on those of their 
 followers, indeed more, a look of gravest appre- 
 hension. Its cause is apparent ; a glance along 
 
IN WANT OF WATER. 
 
 the line of animals — ridden horses as well as 
 draught and pack-mules — clearly proclaiming 
 it. All show signs of distress, by sides hollowed 
 in, necks outstretched and drooping, eyes deep 
 down in their sockets, and tongues protruding 
 from lips that look hot and dry. No wonder! 
 For three days they have not tasted water ; 
 and the scant herbage of the plains, on which 
 they have been depasturing, is without a par- 
 ticle of moisture. It has been a season of 
 drought all over Sonora, not a drop of rain 
 having fallen for months, and every stream, 
 spring, and pool along their route dried up. 
 Little strange, then, the animals looking dis- 
 tressed, and no more that the minds of the men 
 are filled with gloomy fears as to what might 
 be before them. Another three days, and it 
 may be death to most, if not all. 
 
 Just in like proportion are their spirits up- 
 lifted on hearing the exclamation of the gam- 
 busino. Well know they what it means — good 
 grass and abundance of water. All along has 
 he been telling them of this, picturing the 
 
THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " Lost Mountain," or, rather, a spot by its base, 
 as a very Paradise of a camping-place. No 
 
 want of water there, he has said, however dry 
 the season or long-continued the drought ; no 
 fear of animals being famished, since not only 
 is there a spring and running stream, but a 
 lake, surrounded by a belt of meadow-like 
 land, with grass thick, succulent, and green as 
 emeralds. 
 
 "You're sure it's the Cerro Perdido ? " 
 It is Don Estevan who thus doubtingly in- 
 terrogates, his eyes fixed on a solitary eminence 
 seen afar over the plain. 
 
 '■' St, senor," affirms the guide, " sure as that 
 my name 's Pedro Vicente. And I ought to be 
 sure of that, from what my mother told me ; 
 the old lady in her life never getting over her 
 anger at the cost of my christening. Twenty 
 silver pesos, with a pair of church candles — big 
 ones, and of best wax ! All that for only hand- 
 ing down to me my father's name, he being 
 Pedro, and a poor gambjisiuo as myself! Cctr- 
 ramba! The padres are the veriest extor- 
 
IN WANT OF WATER. 
 
 tioncrs — levy black-mail more rigorously than 
 either footpad or highwayman." 
 
 "Vaya, hombref" rejoins Don Estevan. 
 " Don't be so hard upon the poor priests. And 
 as for the expense your mother was put to in 
 celebrating your baptismal rites, that 's all past 
 and gone. If you were poor once, you're now 
 rich enough to care nothing for such a trifle as 
 twenty dollars and a couple of wax candles." 
 
 The senior partner speaks truth, as any one 
 who had seen Pedro Vicente three months 
 before, seeing him now, would say. Then was 
 he sparely clad, in garments of faded hue, 
 tattered and dust-stained ; his mount the scrag- 
 giest of mustangs — a very Rosinante. Now 
 bestrides he a horse of best blood and shapely 
 proportions, in a deep tree-saddle of stamped 
 leather, with ornamental housings ; his own 
 body bedight with all the glittering adornments 
 peculiar to that special Mexican dress known 
 as " ranckero" picturesque as any in the world. 
 His lucky find of gold, still in its matrix of 
 quartz — madre dc oro, as the Mexican miners 
 
THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 call it — with its transference to Villanueva y 
 Tresillian, has p-iven him sufficient of this same 
 metal with the mint stamp on it for all matters 
 of comfort, costume, and equipment. 
 
 " Oh ! bother your christening and candles," 
 puts in the Englishman, with a show of impa- 
 tience ; " we 've something more serious to 
 think about. You 're quite sure, Senor Vicente, 
 that yonder eminence is the Cerro Perdido ? " 
 
 "I 've said," laconically and somewhat gruffly 
 answers the guide, showing slightly nettled at 
 the doubt cast on his affirmation, and by one he 
 supposes a stranger to the country and its ways 
 — in short, a "gringo" 
 
 " Then, pursues Tresillian, " the sooner we 
 get to it the better. It's ten miles off, I take 
 it." 
 
 " Twice ten, caballero, and a trifle over." 
 
 "What ! Twenty miles ? I can't believe that." 
 
 "If your worship had been roaming about 
 these llanos as long as I have, you could and 
 would," rejoins the guide, in quiet confidence. 
 
 "Oh! if you say so, it must be. You seem 
 
IN WAXT OF WATER. 
 
 to know, Senor Vicente; and should, from all 
 I Ye heard of your skill as a path-finder. That 
 you 're good at finding gold we have the 
 proofs." 
 
 "MilgraciaSt Don Roberto," returns l\\o. gam- 
 busino, with a bow, his amour proprc appeased 
 by the complimentary speech; " I Ye no doubt 
 about the distance, for I 'm not trusting to cuess- 
 work. I Ye been over this ground before, and 
 remember that big palmilla." He points to a 
 tree at some distance, with stout stem, and a 
 bunch of bayonet-like leaves on its summit — a 
 species of yucca, of which there are several 
 straggled over the plain, but this one taller than 
 any. Then adds, "If your worship doubts my 
 word, ride up to it, anil you '11 see a P and V 
 carved in the bark, the initials of your humble 
 servant. It was done to commemorate the 
 occasion of my first setting eyes on the Cerro 
 Perdido." 
 
 " But I don't doubt your word," says Trc- 
 sillian, smiling at the odd memento in such an 
 out-of-the-way place ; " certainly not." 
 
10 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " Then, senor, let me assure you that from 
 it to the mountain is all of twenty miles, and 
 we '11 do well if w r e get there before sun- 
 down." 
 
 " In which case, the sooner we start for it 
 the better." 
 
 " Yes, Pedro," adds Don Estevan, speaking 
 to the gold-seeker in a friendly, familiar way. 
 " Ride back and give the order for resuming 
 route. Tell the teamsters and all to do their 
 best." 
 
 " At your worship's command," returns the 
 gamlmsino, with a bow, and wave of his broad- 
 brimmed hat raised high over his head. 
 
 Then, pricking his horse with a spur having 
 rowels full five inches in diameter, he canters 
 off towards the caravan. 
 
 Before reaching it he again uncovers, re- 
 spectfully saluting a group which has not yet 
 been introduced to the reader, though possibly 
 the oddest, with the individuals comprising it, 
 the most interesting of all the travelling party. 
 For two of them are of the fair sex — ladies — 
 
IN WANT OF WATER. 11 
 
 one middle-aged and of matronly aspect, the 
 other a girl late entered upon her teens. Only 
 their faces and the upper portion of their forms 
 are visible, for they are inside a sort of palanquin 
 — the litera of Mexico, used by grand dames on 
 long journeys, and roads over which carriages 
 cannot be taken. The face of the older lady, 
 with dark complexion and features of Andalu- 
 sian type, is still attractive, but that of the 
 younger one strikingly beautiful ; and between 
 the two is a strong family resemblance, as there 
 should, since they are mother and child — the 
 Senora Villanueva and her daughter. 
 
 The litera is borne betwen two mules, at- 
 tached to shafts fore and aft, in charge of a 
 strapping fellow in velveteen jacket, and cal- 
 zoneras, betas of stamped leather, and sombrero 
 of black glaze, with a band of silver bullion 
 round it. But there is a fourth personage com- 
 prising the group, unlike all the others, and 
 bearing no resemblance to any of the way- 
 farers save one — the Englishman. To him the 
 youth — for young he is — shows the likeness, 
 
12 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 unmistakable, of son to father ; and such is the 
 relationship between them. 
 
 Henry Tresillian just turned seventeen, is a 
 handsome fellow, fair-haired, of bright com- 
 plexion, and features delicately chiselled, still 
 aught but effeminate in their expression ; in- 
 stead, of a cast which proclaims courage and 
 resolution, while a figure tersely knit tells of 
 strength and activity equal to anything. On 
 horseback, he sits bending over in his saddle 
 with face to the curtains of the lit era. There 
 may be eyes inside admiring him ; and the ex- 
 pression of his own tells he would fain have it 
 so. But all their eyes, late full of gloom, sparkle 
 delightedly now. The Lost Mountain has been 
 sighted ; their fears are over, and so soon will 
 be their sufferings. 
 
 "Anda! adelante ! (advance)" shouts Pedro 
 Vicente. 
 
 His words echoed rearward along the line, 
 followed by other cries, with a creaking of 
 wheels and a cracking of whips, as the wagons 
 once more got into motion. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE " CO VOTER OS." 
 
 The moving miners are not the only tra- 
 vellers making for the Cerro Perdido on this 
 same day. Just as they have sighted it, ap- 
 proaching from the south, another party is 
 advancing towards it from the north, though 
 not yet within view of it, from being farther 
 off, with a swell of the plain interposed. 
 
 Very different in appearance, and, indeed, 
 almost in every respect, is this second band 
 from that already introduced to the reader ; in 
 count of men outnumbering the latter by more 
 than treble, though in bulk as a ►moving mass 
 far inferior to it. For with it are no wagons, 
 nor wheeled vehicles of any kind ; no mule train 
 nor cattle drove. Neither are they encumbered 
 with women and children, least of all a litera 
 
 13 
 
14 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 and ladies. All men, and every one of them on 
 horseback, each bearer of his own baggage, as 
 well he may be, so little and light it is. Their 
 sole impedimenta consist of a few trilling com- 
 modities, chiefly provision wallets, with water 
 gourds (xuages) strapped over their shoulders 
 or tied to the wither-locks of their horses. 
 Equally unobstructive is their garb, few of 
 them having other article's of dress than a 
 breech-clout, leggings, and moccasins, with a 
 rolled-up blanket or serape in reserve. The 
 exceptions are some half-dozen, who appear 
 to exercise authority, one especially holding 
 command over all. 
 
 His insignia are peculiar ; a coat of arms that 
 would puzzle all the heraldic colleges of Christ- 
 endom. Nor does he wear it on his shield, 
 though one he carries. It is borne on his naked 
 breast of bronze black, in a tattooing of vivid 
 red ; the device, a rattlesnake coiled and cou- 
 chant, with tail and head erect, jaws wide agape, 
 and forked tongue protruding ready to strike. 
 Beneath are other symbols equally eloquent of 
 
THE " COYOTEIiOS." 15 
 
 anger and menace ; one in white, set centrally, 
 well known all over the world — the " death's 
 head and crossbones." 
 
 It need hardly be said that he, embellished 
 with this savage investiture, is an Indian, and 
 his following the same. Indians they are, of a 
 tribe noted for bloodthirstiness beyond all others 
 of their race ; for they are the Wolf- Apaches, 
 or Coyoteros, so called because of mental and 
 moral attributes which liken them to the 
 coyote — jackal of the Western world. 
 
 Unaccompanied by their women and chil- 
 dren, as unencumbered with baggage, proclaims 
 them on a warlike expedition — a maraud ; their 
 arms and equipments telling of the same. They 
 carry guns, and long-shafted lances with pen- 
 nons attached, that no doubt once waved above 
 the heads of Mexican lanzcros. Pistols too, 
 some even having revolvers, with rifles of latest 
 pattern and patent ; of which by their way of 
 handling them they well know the use. If 
 civilization has taught them nothing else, it has 
 how to kill. 
 
16 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 They are marching along, not in ruck, or 
 straggling crowd, but regular formation, aligned 
 in rank and file, " by twos." Long since have 
 the Horse Indians of both prairie and pampa 
 learnt the military tactics of their pale-faced foes 
 — those special to cavalry — and practise them. 
 But nowhere with more ability and success than 
 in the nothern states of Mexico — Tamaulipas, 
 Chihuahua, and Sonora — where Comanches, 
 Navajoes, and Apaches have charged in battle 
 line, breaking that of their white adversaries, 
 and scattering them as chaff. " Indian file," 
 oft used as a synonym for "single file," is a 
 march formation long since abandoned by these 
 Transatlantic Centaurs, save where the nature 
 of the ground makes it a necessity. 
 
 None such exists on the open llano, where 
 this Apache band is now ; and they might 
 move in a column or extended line, if willing 
 it ; but numbering scant two hundred, they 
 prefer the double file. Unlike the miners, in 
 their three days' traverse of a waterless desert, 
 they have been making way through a district 
 
THE "COTOTEIiOS." 17 
 
 with which they are familiar; acquainted with 
 all the camping-places — every stream, spring, 
 and pond — so they have not suffered from 
 want of water. Nor are they likely now, since 
 their course lies along the banks of a creek — a 
 tiny rivulet, yet running, despite the continued 
 drought. It is a branch of the Rio San Miguel 
 of the maps — locally known as the Horcasitas 
 — and they are descending it southward, thirst 
 having no terrors for them. 
 
 Just as the sun is about to set they catch 
 sight of the Cerro Perdido. To them it is not 
 known by that name, but Nauchampa-tepetl. 
 Somewhat strange this, pointing to an affinity 
 known to exist between the Indians of North- 
 ern Mexico and the Aztecans of the South. 
 In the language of these last the mountain 
 Perotc bears the same designation, the " Cofru " 
 usually attached being synonymous with 
 " Nauchampa," both signifying chest, or box. 
 For the Cerro Perdido, viewed from certain 
 points, bears a quaint resemblance to this, as 
 does also the summit of Perotc. 
 
 2 
 
18 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Neither philology nor ethnography is in the 
 minds of this band of red-skins ; their thoughts 
 are dwelling on a subject altogether different 
 — robbery and murder. For they are on the 
 maraud ; their objective point the towns on the 
 Horcasitas. 
 
 Just now, however, as they sight the Cerro, 
 another question occupies them : whether it be 
 prudent or possible to continue on to it without 
 halting for the night. Some say Yes, but most 
 No. It is still good twenty miles off, though 
 appearing scarce ten. In the diaphanous at- 
 mosphere of the Sonora tableland distances 
 are deceptive, as Pedro Vicente has said. But 
 the native inhabitants, above all the aborigines, 
 are aware of this, and reckon accordingly. 
 Besides, the Coyoteros, like the gambusino, 
 have been over the ground before, and are 
 familiar with every foot of it. So distance has 
 nought to do with their discussion, save as it 
 affects the capability of their horses. Since 
 morning they have made fifty miles, and are 
 fagged ; twenty more would be killing work for 
 
THE "COTOTEROS." 19 
 
 them. And the twenty to Nauchampa-tcpetl 
 will be a nice distance to their next day's noon 
 halt 
 
 The question of continuing on is at length 
 decided in the negative, by him of the gro- 
 tesque heraldry dropping down from his horse, 
 and proceeding to picket the animal on the 
 grass. As his example has the force of a 
 command, all the others follow it, and camp is 
 quickly formed. A simple affair this ; only the 
 tethering out of their steeds, and stripping 
 them of such caparison as they carry. Then 
 follows a search for dry faggots, and the 
 kindling of a fire ; not for warmth, but cooking. 
 There is a bit of butchering to precede ; these 
 red-skinned rovers having their commissariat 
 on the hoof — this in the shape of some spare 
 horses driven alono: en caballada. A knife 
 drawn across the throat of one lets his blood 
 out in a torrent, and he drops down dead, — to 
 be skinned and cut up in a trice, the pieces 
 impaled upon sticks and held over the blaze 
 
 of the fire. 
 
 2—2 
 
20 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 But the hippophagists avail themselves of 
 other comestibles of a vegetable kind ; seeds 
 from the cones of the pi fl on, or edible pine, and 
 beans of the algarobia — trees of both sorts 
 growing near. Enough of both are collected 
 and roasted, to form an accompaniment to the 
 horseflesh. 
 
 Fruit they find too on several species of 
 cactus ; the best of them on the pitahaya, 
 whose tall rigid stems, with limbs like the 
 branches of a candelabrum, tower up around 
 their camp. So, in the desert — for it is such 
 — they are enabled to end their dinner with 
 dessert. To provide something for breakfast 
 besides, a viand rare and strange, but familiar 
 to them, a branch of their tribe — the " Mez- 
 caleros" — making it their staple food, even to 
 deriving their tribal appellation from it. For 
 it is the mezcal plant, one of the wild species of 
 magueys (Agave Mexicand). The central core, 
 from which radiate the stiff spinous blades, is 
 the part eaten, and the mode of preparing it 
 is now made manifest in the Coyotero camp. 
 
THE "COYOTEROS." 21 
 
 Several plants are torn out by the roots, their 
 leaves hacked off, and the skin of the core 
 itself cut away — leaving an egg-shaped mass 
 o^ white vegetable substance, large as a man's 
 head, or a monster mangold-wurzel. Mean- 
 while, a hole has been " crowed " in the ground, 
 pit-shaped, its sides fended by flat stones, with 
 a like pavement at the bottom. Into this red 
 coals are flung, nigh enough to fill it ; an in- 
 terval allowed for these to smoulder into ashes, 
 and the stones become burning hot. The 
 mezcals, already wrapped up in the horse's skin 
 late stripped off, red side inward, along with 
 some loose pieces of the flesh, and the bundle 
 is lowered down into the improvised oven, then 
 all covered over with a coat of turf. Thus 
 buried it is left to bake all night, and in the 
 morning will afford them a meal Lucullus need 
 not have disdained to partake of. 
 
 The Coyoteros, well sure of this, go to sleep 
 contentedly and without care ; each rolled up 
 in his own wrap, his couch the naked earth, 
 canopied by a star-bespangled sky. 
 
22 
 
 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 In that uninhabited and pathless wilderness, 
 or with paths only known to themselves, they 
 have little fear of encountering an enemy ; and 
 as little dream they that within less than two 
 hours' gallop of their camping-ground is another 
 camp occupied by the foes of their race, too 
 few to resist their attack. Knew they but this, 
 there would be a quick uprising among them, 
 a hasty springing to horse, and hurried ride 
 towards Nauchampa-tepetl. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A RUSH FOR WATER. 
 
 Meanwhile, with many a crack of whip and 
 cry of "Andaf" "Mulct maldita!" the miners 
 have been toiling on towards the Lost Moun- 
 tain. At slow pace, a crawl ; for their animals, 
 jaded and distressed by the long-endured thirst, 
 have barely strength enough left to drag the 
 wagons after them. Even the pack-mules 
 totter under their loaded alparejas. 
 
 Viewing the eminence from the place where 
 they had pulled up, the mine labourers, like the 
 Englishman, had been inclined to doubt the 
 guide's allegation as to the distance. Men 
 whose lives are for the most part spent under- 
 ground, are as sailors ashore when above it, 
 oddly ignorant of things on the surface, save 
 what may be learnt inside a liquor saloon. 
 
 23 
 
24 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Hence their unbelief in Vicente's statement was 
 altogether natural. But the mule and cattle- 
 drivers knew better, and that the gambusino 
 was not deceiving them. 
 
 All come to this conclusion ere long, a single 
 hour sufficing to convince them of their mis- 
 take ; at the end of which, though moving 
 continuously on, and making the best speed in 
 their power, the mountain seems far of! as ever. 
 And when a second hour has elapsed, the 
 diminution of distance is barely perceptible. 
 
 The sun is low down — almost touching the 
 horizon — as they get near enough to the Cerro 
 to note its peculiar features ; for peculiar these 
 are. Of oblong form it is ; and, viewed side- 
 ways, bears resemblance to a gigantic catafalque 
 or coffin, its top level as the lid. Not smooth, 
 however, the horizontal line being broken by 
 trees and bushes that stand in shaggy silhouette 
 against the blue background of sky. At all 
 points it presents a facade grim and precipitous, 
 here and there enamelled by spots and streaks 
 of verdure, wherever ledge or crevice gives 
 
A RUSH FOR WATER. 25 
 
 plants of the scandent kind an opportunity to 
 strike root. It is about a mile in length, trend- 
 ing nearly north and south, having a breadth of 
 about half this; and in height some five hundred 
 feet. Not much for a mountain, but enough to 
 make it a conspicuous object, visible at a great 
 distance off over that smooth expanse of plain. 
 All the more from its standing solitary and 
 alone ; no other eminence within view of it, 
 neither sierra nor spur ; so looking as if strayed 
 and lost — hence the quaint appellation it bears. 
 # * # * * 
 
 "At which end is the lake, Senor Vicente ?" 
 asks the elder Tresillian, as they are wending 
 their way towards it ; he, with Don Estevan 
 and the guide, as before, being in advance of 
 the wagon train. 
 
 " The southern and nearer one, your worship. 
 And luckily for us it is so. If it were at the 
 other end, we'd still have a traverse of a league 
 at least before reaching it." 
 
 "How's that? I've heard that the Cerro 
 is only a mile in length." 
 
26 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " True, seiior, that 's all. But there are rocks 
 strewn over the llano below, for hundreds of 
 yards out, and so thick we couldn't take the 
 wagons through them. I suppose they must 
 have fallen from the cliffs, but how they got 
 scattered so far, that puzzles me, though rocks 
 have been the study of my life." 
 
 " So they have, Pedro," put in Don Estevan. 
 " And you 've studied them to some purpose. 
 But let us not enter into a eeoloQfical discussion 
 now. I feel more concerned about something 
 else." 
 
 " About what, your worship ? " 
 
 "Some memory tells me that Indians are 
 accustomed to visit the Cerro Perdido. Though 
 I can see no sign of human being about it, who 
 knows but there might be ? " 
 
 This is said after examination of the plain all 
 alonof the base of the mountain through a field- 
 glass, which Don Estevan habitually carries on 
 his person. 
 
 " Therefore," he continues, " I think it ad- 
 visable that some five or six ride ahead — those 
 
A RUSH FOR WATER. 27 
 
 who are best mounted — and make sure that the 
 coast is clear. In case of red-skins being there 
 in any formidable numbers, the knowledge of it 
 in time will enable us to form corral^ and so 
 better defend ourselves should we be attacked. 
 
 Before becoming a master miner, Don Este- 
 van had been a soldier, and seen service on 
 the Indian frontier, in more than one campaign 
 against the three great hostile tribes, Comanches, 
 Apache, and Navajo. For which reason the 
 gambusino, instead of making light of his 
 counsel, altogether approves of it — of course 
 volunteering to be himself of the reconnoitring 
 party. 
 
 In fine, there is another short halt, while the 
 scouts are being selected ; half a dozen men of 
 spirit and mettle, whose horses are still strong 
 enough to show speed, should there be Indians 
 and pursuit. 
 
 Of the half-dozen, Henry Tresillian is one ; 
 he coming up quick to the call. No fear of his 
 horse giving out, or failing to carry him safe 
 back if pursued, and whoever the pursuers. A 
 
28 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 noble animal of Arab strain it is, coal-black, 
 with a dash of dun-colour between the hips and 
 on either side of the muzzle. Nor shows it 
 signs of distress, as the others, notwithstanding 
 all it has come through. For has not its young 
 master shared with it every ration of water 
 served out along the way, even the last one 
 that morning ? 
 
 In a few minutes the scouting party is told 
 off, and, after receiving full instructions, starts 
 onward. 
 
 The elder Tresillian has made no objection 
 to his son being of it ; instead, being rather 
 proud of the spirit the latter is displaying, and 
 follows him with admiring eyes as he rides off. 
 
 Still another pair of eyes go after him, giving 
 glances in which pride and fear are strangely 
 commingled. For they are those of Gertudes 
 Villanueva. She is proud that he, whom her 
 young heart is just learning to love, should 
 possess such courage, while apprehensive of 
 what may come of it. 
 
 "Adelantef" calls out the mayor-demo, who 
 
A RUSH FOR WATER. 29 
 
 has chief charge of the caravan ; and once 
 more there is a vigorous wielding of whips, 
 with an objurgation of mules, as the animals 
 move reluctantly and laboriously on. 
 
 # # * # # 
 
 In twenty minutes after, all is changed with 
 them. Horse and hybrid — every animal in the 
 train — have raised head and pricked up ears, 
 with nostrils distended. Even the horned 
 cattle to rearward have caught the infection, 
 and low loudly in response to the neighing of 
 the horses and the hinneying of the mules. 
 There is a very fracas of noises, like a Bedlam 
 broke loose, the voice of the mayor-domo rising 
 above all as he cries out, 
 " Gitarda, la cstampcda ! " 
 And a "stampede" it becomes, all knowing 
 the cause. The animals have scented water, 
 and no longer need whip-lash or cry to urge 
 them on. Instead, teamsters and arrieros find 
 it impossible to restrain them, for it were a 
 struggle against Nature itself. Taking the 
 bits between their teeth, and regardless of 
 
30 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 rein, horses, mules, all rush simultaneously and 
 madly forward, as if each had a score of gad- 
 flies with their venomous probosces buried 
 deep in its body. 
 
 A helter-skelter it is, with a loud hullabulloo, 
 the heavily-laden wagons drawn over the 
 ground as light-like and with the velocity of 
 bicycles, and making noise as of thunder. For 
 now, near the mountain's foot, the plain is 
 bestrewed with stones, some big enough to 
 raise the wheels on high, almost to overturning 
 the vehicles, eliciting agonized cries from the 
 women and children inside them. No more 
 are Indians thought of for the time ; enough 
 danger without that, from upsets, broken bones, 
 indeed death. 
 
 In the end none of these eventualites arise. 
 Luckily — and more by good luck than guiding 
 — the wagons keep their balance, and they 
 within them their places, till all come to a 
 stand again. While still tearing on, they see 
 before them a disc of water lit up by the last 
 rays of departing sunlight, with half a dozen 
 
a nrsn for water si 
 
 horsemen — the reconnoitring - party — drawn up 
 on its edge, in attitude of wonder at their 
 coming after so soon. 
 
 But their animals, still in rush, give no oppor- 
 tunity for explanation. On go they into the 
 lake, horses, mules, and cattle mingled together; 
 nor stop till they are belly deep, with the water 
 up over their nostrils. No more neighing nor 
 lowing now, but all silent, swilling, and con- 
 tented. 
 
 "*- A^ 
 
 3 - 
 
 _ 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EL OJO DE AGUA. 
 
 Morning dawns upon the Lost Mountain, 
 to disclose a scene such as had never before 
 been witnessed in that solitary spot. For 
 never before had wagon, or other wheeled 
 vehicle, approached it. Remote from town or 
 civilized settlement, leagues away from any of 
 the customary routes of travel, the only white 
 men having occasion to visit it had been 
 hunters or gold-seekers, and their visits, like 
 those of angels, few and far between. Red 
 men, however, have sought it more frequently, 
 for it is not far from one of their great war- 
 trails — that leading from the Apache country 
 to the settlements on the Horcasitas, so serving 
 these savages as a convenient halting- place 
 
 32 
 
EL OJO DE AGVA. 33 
 
 when on raid thither. The reconnoitring party, 
 sent in advance of the caravan, had discovered 
 traces of their presence by the lake's edge ; 
 but none recent, and nothing to signify. There 
 were no fresh tracks upon the meadow-grass, 
 nor the belt of naked sand around the water, 
 save those of wild animals that had come 
 thither to quench their thirst. 
 
 In confidence, therefore, the miners made 
 camp, though not negligently or carelessly. 
 The old militario had seen too much cam- 
 paigning for that, and directed the wagons to 
 be drawn up in a corral of oval shape, tongues 
 and tails united as the links of a chain. Long- 
 bodied vehicles, the six enclose a considerable 
 space — enough to accommodate all who have 
 need to stay inside. In case of attack it could 
 be still further strengthened by the bales, 
 boxes, and alparejas of the pack-mules. Out- 
 side the animals were staked, and are still upon 
 their tethers, though without much concern 
 about their running away. After the long 
 traverse over the dry llanos, and the suffering 
 
 3 
 
34 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 they have endured, now on such good grass, 
 and beside such sweet water, they will con- 
 tentedly stay till it please their masters to 
 remove them. 
 
 Fires had been kindled the night before, but 
 only for cooking supper ; it is summer, and 
 there is no discomfort from cold — heat rather. 
 And now at dawn the fires are being re-lighted 
 with a view to desayuna, and later on breakfast ; 
 for, though the caravan had unexpectedly run 
 short of water, its stock of provisions is still 
 unexhausted. 
 
 Among the earliest up — nay, the very first — 
 is Pedro Vicente. Not with any intention to 
 take part in culinary operations. Gambttsino 
 and guide, he would scorn such menial occupa- 
 tions. His reasons for being so early astir are 
 altogether different and twofold ; though but 
 one of them has he made known, and that only 
 to Henry Tresillian. Overnight, ere retiring 
 to rest, he had signified his intention to ascend 
 the Cerro in the morning — soon as there was 
 enough of daylight to make the ascent practi- 
 
EL OJO DE A'lUA. 35 
 
 cable — in hopes of finding game both of the 
 furred and feathered sorts, he said. For in 
 addition to his metier as guide to the caravan — 
 being a skilled hunter as well as gold-seeker — 
 he holds engagement to supply it with venison, 
 or such other meat commodity as may fall to 
 his gun. For clays he has had but little oppor- 
 tunity of showing his hunter skill. On the 
 sterile tract through which they have been 
 passing birds and quadrupeds are scarce, even 
 such as usually inhabit it having gone elsewhere 
 in consequence of the long-continued drought. 
 All the more is he desirous to make up for late 
 deficit, and at least furnish the table of the 
 quality with something fresh. He knows there 
 are game animals on the mountain — a mesa, as 
 already said, level-topped, with trees growing 
 over it, besides water; for there is the fountain's 
 head, source of the stream and lake below On 
 the. night before, he had spoken of wild sheep 
 as likely to be found above, with antelopes, and 
 possibly a bear or two, also turkeys. Now, in 
 the morning, he is sure about these last, having 
 
 3—2 
 
36 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 heard them, as is their wont before sunrise, 
 saluting one another with that sonorous call 
 from which they derive their Mexican name, 
 guajalote, 
 
 These confidences he has imparted to Henry 
 Tresillian, who is to accompany him in the 
 chase, though not from any view of inspiring 
 the latter with its ardour. There is no need ; 
 the young Englishman being a hunter by 
 instinct, with a love for natural history as well, 
 and the Lost Mountain promises rich reward 
 for the climbing, in discovery as in sport. 
 Besides, the two have been compagnons de 
 chasse all along the route ; habitually together, 
 the fellow-feeling of huntership making such 
 association congenial. So, early as is the 
 Mexican afoot, he beats the English youth by 
 barely a minute of time ; the latter seen issuing 
 forth from one of the tents that form part of 
 the encampment, just as the former has crawled 
 out from between the wheels of a wagon, under 
 which, rolled up in his frezada, he had passed 
 the night. 
 
EL OJO DE AGUA. 37 
 
 With just enough light to identify him, 
 Henry Tresillian is seen to be habited in 
 shooting coat, breeches, and gaiters, laced 
 buskins, and a tweed cloth cap ; in short, the 
 costume of an English sportsman — shot-belt 
 over the shoulders, and double-barrel in hand 
 — about to attack a pheasant preserve, or go 
 tramping through stubble and swedes. The 
 gambusino himself wears the picturesque 
 dress of his class and country ; the gun he 
 carries being a rifle, while the sword - like 
 weapon hanging along his hip is the ever- 
 present machetu — in Sonora sometimes called 
 cortante. 
 
 As, overnight, the programme had been all 
 arranged, their interchange of speech at present 
 has only reference to something in the way of 
 desayuna before setting out. This they find 
 ready and near ; at the central camp fire now 
 blazing up, where several of the women, 
 11 whisks " in hand, are bending over pots of 
 chocolate, stirring the substantial liquid to a 
 creamy froth. 
 
38 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 A taza of it is handed to each of the " caza- 
 dores" with a "tortilla enchilada," accompanied 
 by a graceful word of welcome. Then, empty- 
 ing the cups, and chewing up the tough, leather- 
 like maize cakes, the hunters slip quietly out of 
 camp, and set their faces for the Cerro. 
 
 The ascent, commenced almost immediately, 
 is by a ravine — a sort of gorge or chine worn 
 out by the water from the spring -head above 
 and disintegrating rains throughout the long 
 ages. They find it steep as a staircase, though 
 not winding as one ; instead, trending straight 
 up from its debouchment on the plain to the 
 summit level, between slopes, these with grim, 
 rocky facade, still more precipitous. Down 
 its bottom cascades the stream — a tiny rivulet 
 now ; but in rain-storms a torrent — and along 
 this lies the path, the only one by which the 
 Cerro can be ascended, as the gambusino 
 already knows. 
 
 " There 's no other," he says, as they are 
 clambering upward, " where a man could make 
 the ascent, unless with a Jacob's ladder let 
 
EL OJO DE A 'if A. 39 
 
 down to him. All around, the cliff is as steep 
 as the shaft of a mine. Even the wild sheep 
 can't scale it, and if we find any on the summit 
 — and it's to be hoped we shall — they must 
 either have been bred there, or gone up this 
 way. Guardaf" he adds, in exclamation, as 
 he sees the impulsive English youth bounding 
 on rather recklessly. " Have a care ! Don't 
 disturb the stones ; they may go rattling down 
 and smash somebody below." 
 
 " By Jove ! I didn't think of that," returns 
 he thus cautioned, turning pale at thought of 
 how he might have endangered the lives of 
 those dear to him; then ascending more slowly. 
 and with the care enjoined upon him. 
 
 In due time they arrive at the head of the 
 gorge, there stopping to take breath. Only 
 for an instant, when they proceed on, now no 
 longer in a climb, the path thence leading over 
 ground level as the plain itself; but still by the 
 rivulet's edge, through a tangle of trees and 
 bushes. 
 
 At some two hundred yards from the head 
 
40 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 of the gorge they come into an opening, the 
 Mexican as he enters it exclaiming, 
 " El ojo de aguat n 
 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 LOS GUAJALOTES. 
 
 The phrase, " ojo de agua " (the water's eye), 
 is simply the Mexican name for a spring; which 
 Henry Tresillian needs not to be told, being 
 already acquainted with the pretty poetical 
 appellation. And he now sees the thing itself 
 but a few paces ahead, gurgling up in a little 
 circular basin, and sending off the stream which 
 supplies the lake below. 
 
 In an instant they are upon its edge, to find 
 it clear as crystal, the gambusino saying, as he 
 unslings his drinking-cup of cow's horn, 
 
 " I can't resist taking a swill of it, notwith- 
 standing the gallons I had swallowed overnight. 
 After such a long spell of short-water rations, 
 one feels as though he could never again get 
 enough." Then filling the horn, and almost 
 
 4i 
 
42 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 instantly emptying it, he concludes with the 
 exclamation " Delicioso ! " 
 
 His companion drinks also, but from a cup 
 of solid silver ; vessels of this metal, even of 
 gold, being aught but rare among the master- 
 miners of Sonora. 
 
 They are about to continue on, when lo ! a 
 flock of large birds by the edge of the open. 
 On the ground these are — having just come 
 out from among the bushes — moving leisurely 
 along, with beaks now and then lowered to the 
 earth ; in short, feeding as turkeys in a pasture 
 field. And turkeys they are, the Mexican 
 saying in a whisper, 
 
 "Los guajalotes ! " 
 
 So like are they to the domestic bird — only 
 better shaped and every way more beautiful — 
 that Henry Tresillian has no difficulty in identi- 
 fying them as its wild progenitors. One of 
 superior size, an old cock, is at their head, stri- 
 ding to and fro in all the pride of his glittering 
 plumage, which, under the beams of the new- 
 risen sun, shows hues vivid and varied as those 
 
LOS QUAJALOTES. 43 
 
 of the rainbow. A very sultan he seems, 
 followed by a train of sultanas and their atten- 
 dants ; for there are young birds in the flock, 
 fledglings, that differ in appearance from the 
 old ones. 
 
 Suddenly the grand satrap erects his head, 
 and with neck craned out, utters a note of 
 alarm. Too late. "Bang — bang!" from the 
 double-barrel — the sharper crack of the rifle 
 sounding simultaneously — and the old cock, 
 with three of his satellites, lies prostrate upon 
 the earth, the rest taking flight with terrified 
 screeches, and a clatter of wings loud as the 
 "whirr" of a threshing machine. 
 
 " Not a bad beginning," quietly observes the 
 gambusino, as they stand over the fallen game. 
 "Is it, senorito ?" 
 
 "Anything but that," answers the young 
 Englishman, delighted at having secured such a 
 good bottom for their bag. " But what are we 
 to do with them ? We can't carry them along. - ' 
 
 "Certainly not," rejoins the Mexican. " Nor 
 need. Let them lie where they are till we 
 
U THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 come back. But no," he adds, correcting him- 
 self. " That will never do. There are wolves 
 up here, no doubt — certainly coyotes, if no 
 other kind — and on return we might find only 
 feathers. So we must string them up out of 
 reach." 
 
 The stringing up is a matter which occupies 
 only a few minutes' time ; done by one leg 
 thrust through the opened sinew of the other 
 to form a loop ; then the birds hoisted aloft, 
 and hung upon the up-curving arms of a tall 
 pitahaya. 
 
 " And now, on ! " says the gambusino, after 
 re-loading guns. " Let us hope we may come 
 across something in the four-legged line, big 
 enough to give everybody a bit of fresh meat 
 for dinner. Likely we '11 have to tramp a good 
 way before sighting any ; the report of our 
 guns will have frighted both birds and beasts, 
 and sent all to the farthest side of the mesa. 
 But no matter for that. I want to go there 
 direct, and at once, for a reason, muchacho, 
 I 've not yet made known to you." 
 
LOS GUAJALOTES. 45 
 
 While speaking, an anxious expression has 
 shown itself on the gambusinds face, which, 
 taken in connection with his last words, leads 
 Henry Tresillian to suspect something in, or 
 on, his mind, beside the desire to kill game. 
 Moreover, before leaving the camp he had 
 noticed that the Mexican seemed to act in a 
 manner more excited than was his w T ont — as 
 if in a great hurry to get away. That, no 
 doubt, for the reason he now hints at ; though 
 what it is the young Englishman cannot even 
 give a oruess. 
 
 "May I know it now?" he asks, with some 
 eagerness, noting the grave look. 
 
 " Certainly you may, and shall," frankly re- 
 sponds the Mexican. " I would have told you 
 sooner, and the others as well, but for not 
 being sure about it. I didn't like to cause an 
 alarm in the camp without good reason. And 
 I hope still there 's none. After all it may 
 not have been smoke." 
 
 " Smoke ! What ? " 
 
 " What I saw, or thought I saw, yesterday 
 
46 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 evening", just after we arrived by the lake's 
 edge." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 11 To the north-east — a long way off." 
 
 " But if it was a smoke, what would that 
 signify ? " 
 
 "In this part of the world, much. It might 
 mean danger ; ay, death." 
 
 " You astonish — mystify me, Senor Vicente. 
 How could it mean that?" 
 
 " There 's no mystery in it, muchacho. Where 
 smoke is seen there should be fire ; and a fire 
 on these llanos is likely to be one with Indians 
 around it. Now do you understand the danger 
 I 'm thinking of?" 
 
 " I do. But I thought there were no 
 Indians in this part of the country, except the 
 Opatas ; and they are Christianized, dwelling 
 in towns." 
 
 " True, all that. But the Opata towns are 
 far from here, and in an entirely different 
 direction — the very opposite. If smoke it was, 
 the fire that made it wasn't one kindled by 
 
LOS GUAJALOTES. 4? 
 
 Opatas, but men who only resemble them in 
 the colour of their skin — Indians, too." 
 
 "What Indians do you suspect?" 
 
 " Los Apaches!' 
 
 " Danger indeed, if they be in the neighbour- 
 hood." The young Englishman has been long 
 enough in Sonora to have acquaintance with 
 the character of these cruel savages. " But I 
 hope they 're not," he adds, trustfully, still with 
 some apprehension, as his thoughts turn to 
 those below. 
 
 "That hope I heartily echo," rejoins the 
 Mexican, "for if they be about, we've got to 
 look out for the skin of our heads. But come, 
 muckacho mio! Don't let us be down in the 
 mouth till we're sure there is a danger. As 
 I Ve said, I 'm not even sure of having seen 
 smoke at all. It might have been a dust-whirl, 
 just as I noticed the thing, the estampeda 
 commenced ; and after it the rush for water, 
 which of course took off my attention. When 
 that was over, and I again turned my eyes 
 north-eastward, it was too dark to distinguish 
 
43 THE LOST MOUNTAIX. 
 
 smoke or anything else. I then looked for a 
 light all along the sky-line, and also several 
 times during the night — luckily to see none. 
 For all I can't help having fears. A man 
 who 's once been prisoner to the Apaches never 
 travels through a district where they are like 
 to be encountered without some apprehension. 
 Mine oueht to be of the keenest. I 've not 
 only been their prisoner, but rather roughly 
 handled, as no doubt you '11 admit after looking 
 at this." 
 
 Saying which, the Mexican opens his shirt- 
 front, laying bare his breast ; on which appears 
 a disc, bearing rude resemblance to a " death's 
 head," burnt deep into the skin. 
 
 " They gave me that brand," he continues, 
 '■just by way of amusing themselves. They 
 meant to have further diversion out of it by 
 using me as a target, and it for a centre mark 
 at one of their shooting matches. Luckily, 
 before that came off, I found the chance of 
 giving them leg-bail. Now, muchacho, you '11 
 better understand my anxiety to be up here so 
 
LOU GUAJALOTES. 49 
 
 early, and why I want to push on to the other 
 end. / 'amonos ! " 
 
 'Shouldering their guns, they proceed onward ; 
 now at slower pace, their progress obstructed 
 by thick-growing bushes and trees, with Manas 
 interlacing. For beyond the spring there is 
 neither stream nor path, save here and there 
 a slight trace, often tortuous, which tells of the 
 passage of wild animals wandering to and fro. 
 The hunters are pleased to see it thus ; still 
 more when the Mexican, noting some hoof- 
 marks in a spot of soft ground, pronounces 
 them tracks of the cavnero cimmaron. 
 
 " I thought we 'd find some of the big-horn 
 gentry up here," he says ; " and if all the cara- 
 van don't this day dine on roast mutton, it '11 
 be because Pedro Vicente isn't the proper man 
 to be its purveyor. Still, we mustn't stop to go 
 after the sheep now. True, we Ve begun the 
 day hunting, but before proceeding farther with 
 that, we must make sure we shan't have to end 
 it fighting. Ssh ! " 
 
 The sibillatory exclamation has reference to 
 
 4 
 
50 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 a noise heard a little way off, like the stroke of 
 a hoof upon hard turf, several times rapidly 
 repeated. And simultaneous with it another 
 sound, as the snort or bark of some animal. 
 
 " That 's a camero, now ! " says the Mexican, 
 sot to voce ; as he speaks, coming - to a stop and 
 laying hold of the other's arm to restrain him. 
 " Since the game offers itself without going 
 after, or out of our way, we may as well secure 
 a head or two. Like the turkeys, it can be 
 strung up till our return." 
 
 Of course his compagnon de chasse is of the 
 same mind. He but longs to empty his 
 double-barrel ao-ain, all the more at such errand 
 game, and rejoins, saying, " Just so; it can." 
 
 Without further speech they stalk cautiously 
 forward, to reach the edge of another opening, 
 and there behold another flock — not of birds, 
 but quadrupeds. Deer they might seem at the 
 first glance, to eyes unacquainted with them ; 
 and for such Henry Tresillian might mistake 
 them, but that they show no antlers ; instead, 
 horns of a character proclaiming them shjep. 
 
LOS GUAJALOTES. 51 
 
 Sheep they are, wild ones, different from the 
 domesticated animal as greyhound from dac- 
 shund. No short legs nor low bodies theirs ; 
 no bushy tails, nor tangle of wool to encumber 
 them. Instead, coats clean and smooth, with 
 limbs long, sinewy, and supple as those of stag 
 itself. Several pairs of horns are visible in the 
 flock, one pair spirally curving much larger 
 than any of the others ; indeed, of such dimen- 
 sions, and seeming weight, as to make it a 
 wonder how the old ram, their owners, can hold 
 up his head. Yet is it he who is holding head 
 highest; the same who had snorted, hammering 
 the Q-round with his hoof. 
 
 He has done so, repeatedly, since ; the last 
 time to be the last in his life. Through the 
 leafy branches, cautiously parted, shoots out a 
 double jet of flame and smoke; three cracks 
 an- heard ; then again there is dead game on 
 the ground. 
 
 This time, however, counting less in heads ; 
 only one — that carrying the grand curvature of 
 horns. Alone the leader of the ilock has fallen 
 
 4—2 
 
52 THE LOST MOUNTAIN, 
 
 to the second fusillade, killed by the rifle's 
 bullet. For the shot from the double-barrel, 
 though hitting too, has glanced off the thick 
 felt-like coats of the cameros as from a corslet 
 of steel. 
 
 " Carrai ! " exclaims the gambusino, with a 
 vexed air, as they step up to the fallen quarry. 
 " This time we haven't done so well — in fact, 
 worse than nothing." 
 
 " But why ? " queries the young Englishman, 
 in wonder at the other's strange words and 
 ways, after having made such a big kill. 
 
 " Why, you ask, senorito ! Don't your 
 nostrils tell you ? Mil diablos ! how the brute 
 stinks ! " 
 
 Truth he speaks, as his hunting companion, 
 now standing over the dead body of the big- 
 horn, can well perceive — sensible of an offensive 
 odour arising from it as that of ram in the 
 rutting season. 
 
 "What a fool I've L-Ji to spend bullet 
 upon him ! " continues the Mexican, without 
 awaiting rejoinder. " Nor was it his great 
 
LOS GUAJALOTES. 
 
 53 
 
 bulk or horns that tempted me. No ; all 
 through thinking of that other thin^, which 
 made me careless which of them I aimed at." 
 
 " What other thing ? " 
 
 " The smoke. Well, it 's no use crying over 
 spilt milk nor any to bother more about the 
 brute. It's only fit food for coyotes; and the 
 sooner they get it into their bellies the better. 
 Faugh ! Let us away from it."' 
 
 e=> 
 
 - "** • -\ 
 
 ^ 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A HOMERIC REPAST. 
 
 Early as are the white men astir, }-et earlier 
 are the red ones. For the Coyoteros, like the 
 animal from which they derive their tribal 
 name, do more of their prowling by night than 
 by day. Moreover, it is the sultry season, and 
 they design reaching Nauchampa-tepetl before 
 the sun gets so high and hot as to make travel- 
 ling uncomfortable. . Even savages are not 
 averse to comfort; though these are now think- 
 ing more about that of their horses than their 
 own. They are on an expedition that will need 
 keeping the animals up to their best strength ; 
 and journeying in the noon hours would dis- 
 tress and pull them down. 
 
 So nearly an hour before dawn declines itself 
 they are up and active, moving about in the 
 
 54 
 
A HOMERIC REPAST, 55 
 
 dim light, silent as spectres. Silent, not from 
 any fear of betraying their presence to an 
 enemy — they know of none likely to be near — 
 but because it is their habit. 
 
 What they first do is to shift the picket-pins 
 of their horses, or give greater length to the 
 trail-ropes, in order that the animals may get 
 a bite of clean fresh grass, that on which they 
 were tethered throughout the night being now 
 trampled down. 
 
 Next, they proceed to take care of themselves 
 — to fortify the inner man with a bit of break- 
 fast. No fire is needed for the cooking it, and 
 none is kindled. The mczcal and horse-meat 
 pie has been baking all the night ; and now, 
 near morning, they know it will be ready — done 
 to a turn. It but needs the turf lifted off their 
 primitive oven, and the contents extracted. 
 
 Five or six, detailed for the task, at once 
 set about it ; first taking off the top sods, now 
 calcined and still smoking. Then the loose 
 mould, which the fire has converted into ashes, 
 is removed with more care. It is hot, and 
 
56 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 needs handling gingerly ; but the savage cuisi- 
 niers know how, and soon the black bundle 
 is exposed to view, the hide now hairless and 
 charred, but moist and reeking - . It still adheres 
 sufficiently to bear hoisting out, without fear 
 of spilling the contents ; and at length it is so 
 lifted and carried to a clean spot of sward. 
 Then cut open and spread out, there is dis- 
 played a steaming savoury mass, whose appe- 
 tizing odour, borne upward and outward on 
 the fresh morning air, inspires every red-skin 
 around with delightful anticipations. 
 
 And not without reason either. To say 
 nothing of the baked horseflesh — by many 
 gourmets esteemed a delectable dish — the corn 
 of the mezcal, treated thus, is a viand palatable 
 as peculiar. And peculiar it is, bearing resem- 
 blance to nothing I either know or can think 
 of. In appearance it is much like candied 
 citron, with a sweetish taste too, only firmer 
 and darker in colour. But while eating it the 
 tongue seems penetrated with a thousand tiny 
 darts ; a sort of prinkling sensation, quite in- 
 
A HOMERIC REPAST. 57 
 
 describable, and, to one unaccustomed to it, not 
 altogether agreeable. In time this passes away; 
 and he who has made the experiment of eating 
 mezcal comes to like it exceedingly. Many 
 grand people among the whites regard it in 
 the light of a luxury ; and as such it has found 
 its way into most Mexican towns — even the 
 capital itself — wmere it commands a high 
 price. 
 
 With the Apache Indians, as already said, 
 it is a staple food, even giving their tribal name 
 to one branch of this numerous nation — the 
 Mezcaleros. But all eat of it alike, and the 
 Coyoteros, en bivouac, show, by their know- 
 ledge of how to prepare it, that baked mezcal 
 is noways new to them. 
 
 At the word " ready ! " they gather around 
 the hot steaming mass ; and, regardless of 
 scorched lips or tongues, set upon it with 
 knife and tooth. 
 
 Soon the skin is cleaned out, every scrap 
 of its contents eaten. They could eat the hide, 
 too, and would, were there a pinch. But there 
 
58 THE LOUT MOUNTAIN. 
 
 is none such now, and it is left for their name- 
 sakes, the coyotes. 
 
 A smoke follows the Homeric repast, for all 
 American Indians are addicted to the use of 
 the nicotian weed. They were so before the 
 caravels of Columbus spread sail on the Haytian 
 seas. 
 
 Every Coyotero in camp has his pipe and 
 pouch of tobacco, be it genuine or adulterated ; 
 this depending on how their luck has been 
 running, or how recent their latest raid upon 
 some settlement of the pale-faces. 
 
 Pipes smoked out and returned to their 
 places of deposit, all are afoot again. Nothing 
 more now but to draw picket-pins, coil up trail- 
 ropes, mount, and move off; for their horse 
 caparison, scant and easily adjusted, is already 
 on. 
 
 The chief gives the order " to horse," not 
 in words, but by example — springing upon the 
 back of his own. Then they ride off, as before, 
 in formation "by twos," each file falling into 
 rank as the line lengthens out upon the plain. 
 
A HOMERIC REPAST. 50 
 
 Scarce is the last file clear of the abandoned 
 camp -ground ere this becomes occupied by 
 animated beings of another kind — wolves, 
 whose howling has been heard throughout all 
 the nicfht. Having scented the slaughtered 
 horse, these now rush simultaneously towards 
 it, to dispute the banquet of bones. 
 
 # * # # # 
 
 Shortly after leaving the camp the marching 
 red-skins lose sight of the Cerro. This is ac- 
 counted for by a dip in the plain, with a ridge- 
 like swell beyond, which runs transversely to 
 their course.. The hollow continues for several 
 miles before the mountain will be again in 
 view ; but, well knowing the way, they need 
 not this to guide them. Nor are they in any 
 particular hurry. They can reach their intended 
 halting-place by the lake long ere the sun be- 
 comes sultry, there to lie up till the cool hours 
 of evening. So they move leisurely along, and 
 with a purpose — to spare the sinews of their 
 horses. 
 
 They talk enough now, loudly and laugh- 
 
60 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 ingly. They have slept well, and breakfasted 
 satisfactorily ; besides, it is broad daylight, and 
 no danger to be apprehended, no fear of hostile 
 surprise. For all that they keep their eyes on 
 the alert through habitude, every now and 
 then scanning the horizon around. 
 
 Soon they see that which gives them some- 
 thing serious to speak about. Not upon the 
 horizon, nor anywhere upon the plain, but up 
 in the heavens above it — birds. What of 
 them? And what in their appearance to attract 
 the attention of the Coyoteros ? Nothing, or 
 not much, were the birds other than they are. 
 But they are vultures, black vultures of two 
 sorts — gallinazos and zopilotcs. Nor would 
 the Indians think of giving them a second 
 glance were they soaring about in their or- 
 dinary way, wheeling in circles and spirals. 
 But they are not ; instead, passing overhead 
 in straight onward flight, with a quick, earnest 
 plying of wings, evidently making for some 
 point where they expect to stoop upon carrion. 
 Scores there are of them, straggled out in a 
 
A HOMERIC REPAST. Gl 
 
 long stream, but all living in one direction — 
 the same in which the savages are themselves 
 proceeding — towards Nauchampa-tepetl. 
 
 What can be drawing the vultures thither ? 
 This the question which the Indians ask one 
 another, in their own formularies of speech ; 
 none able to answer it, save by conjecture. 
 Without in any way alarming, the spectacle 
 excites them ; and they quicken their pace, 
 eaeer to learn what is attracting the birds. 
 It should be something more than dead ante- 
 lope or deer, so many are tending towards it, 
 and from so far. For their high flight, straight 
 onward, tells of their having been for some 
 time keeping the same course. 
 
 Hastening on up the slope of the swell, the 
 dusky horsemen once more catch sight of the 
 mountain, there to see what brings them to 
 an abrupt halt — a filmy purplish haze hanging 
 over its southern end, more scattered higher 
 up in the sky. Is it fog rising from the water 
 they know to be there ? No : smoke, as their 
 practised eyes tell them after regarding it a 
 
G2 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 moment. And with like celerity they inter- 
 pret it, as proceeding' from the fire, or fires, 
 of a camp. Other travellers, anticipating them, 
 are encamped by Nauchampa-tepctl, 
 
 Who ? Opatas ? Not likely. Sons of toil 
 — Indicos mansos — slaves, as these the bravos, 
 their kindred only in race, scornfully call them 
 — the Opatas keep to their towns, and the 
 patches of cultivation around them. Improbable 
 that they should have ventured into that wil- 
 derness so far from home. More likely it is a 
 party of pale-faces; men in seach of that shining 
 metal which, as the Apaches know, has often 
 lured their white enemies into the very heart of 
 the desert, their own domain, and to destruction 
 — themselves the destroyers. If the smoke of 
 those camp fires they now see be over such a 
 party, then is it doomed — at least so mentally 
 resolve the red centaurs, hoping' it may be thus. 
 While still gazing at the blue cloud, taking its 
 measure, and discussing the probabilities of who 
 and what sort of men may be under it, another 
 appears before their eyes ; this whiter and of 
 
A HOMERIC REPAST. 03 
 
 smaller size — a mere puff suddenly rising over 
 the crest of the mesa, and separating from it as 
 it drifts higher. 
 
 From the fire of a gun, or guns, as the Coyo- 
 teros can tell, though not by any crack of one 
 having reached their ears, since none has. In 
 the rarefied atmosphere of the high-lying llanos 
 the eye has the advantage, of the ear, sounds 
 being heard only at short distance. They are 
 still more than ten miles from the mountain, 
 and the report of a cannon, discharged on its 
 summit, would be barely audible to them. 
 
 Still staying at halt, but keeping to their 
 horses, the chief and others in authority enter 
 into consultation. And while they are deli- 
 berating on the best course to be pursued, still 
 another puff of smoke shoots up over the mesa, 
 similar to that preceding, but at a different 
 point. It aids them in coming to conclusions; 
 for now they are sure there is a camp of pale- 
 faces by the pond ; and they above are hunters 
 who have gone up to get game, which the 
 Indians know to be there in abundance. 
 
64 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 But what sort of pale-faces ? Of this they 
 are not sure. Knowing it to be a miners' camp, 
 they would ride straight on for it, in gallop. 
 But it may be an encampment of so/dados, which 
 would make a difference. Not that the Coyo- 
 teros are afraid to encounter Mexican soldiers 
 — far from it. Rather would they rejoice at 
 finding it these. For their tribe, their own 
 branch of it, has an old score against the men 
 in uniform ; and nothing would please them 
 better than an oportunity to settle it. Indeed, 
 partly to seek this, with purposes of plunder 
 combined, are they now on the war trail. Only 
 in their mode of action would there be a diffe- 
 rence, in the event of the encampment turning 
 out to be occupied by so/dados. Soldiers in that 
 quarter should be cavalry, and to approach them 
 caution would be called for, with strategy. But 
 these red centaurs are soldiers themselves — 
 veterans, skilled, cunning strategists — and now 
 give proof of it. For the time has come for 
 them to advance ; which they do, not straight 
 forward nor in single body, but broken into two 
 
A HOMERIC REPAST. 65 
 
 bands, one facing right, the other left, with a 
 design to enfilade the camp by approaching it 
 from opposite points. Separating at the start, 
 the two cohorts soon diverge wide apart, both 
 making for the mountain, but with the intention 
 to reach its southern end on different sides. 
 
 If the black vultures, still in streaming flight 
 above, have hopes of getting a repast there, 
 they may now feel assured of its being a plen- 
 teous one. 
 
 '^P^J-^ 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LOS INDIOS ! 
 
 Parting from the despised carcase of the ram 
 the hunters press onward, the younger with 
 mental resolve to return to it, come back what 
 way they will. Its grand spiral horns have 
 caught his fancy : such a pair would grace any 
 hall in Christendom ; and, though he cannot 
 call the trophy his own, since it fell not to his 
 gun, he intends appropriating it. 
 
 Only for a brief moment does the young 
 Englishman reflect about them ; in the next 
 they are out of his mind. For, glancing at 
 the Mexican's face, he again sees that look of 
 anxious uneasiness noted before. It had re- 
 turned soon as the exciting incident of the 
 sheep-shooting was over. And knowing the 
 
 66 
 
LOS INDIOS/ 
 
 cause, he shares it ; no more thinking about 
 the chase or its trophies. 
 
 They say but little now, having sufficient 
 work to occupy them without wasting time in 
 words. For beyond the opening where the 
 carneros were encountered, they find no path 
 — not so much as a trace made by animals — 
 and have to make one for themselves. As the 
 trees stand close, with lianas interlacing, the 
 Mexican is often compelled to use his machete 
 for hewing out a passage-way ; which he does 
 with an accompaniment of carrambas! thick as 
 the underwood he chops at. 
 
 Thus impeded, they are nearly an hour in 
 getting through the chapparal, though the dis- 
 tance passed is less than the half of a mile. 
 But at length they accomplish it, arriving on 
 the mesas outer edge, close to that of the cliff. 
 There the tall timber ends in a skirting of low 
 bushes, and their view is no longer obstructed. 
 North, east, and west the llano is under their 
 eyes to the horizon's verge, twenty miles at 
 least being within the scope of their vision. 
 
 5—2 
 
68 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 They aim not to scan it so far. For at a 
 distance of little more than ten they observe 
 that which at once fixes their glance : a dun 
 yellowish disc — a cloud — with its base resting 
 upon the plain. 
 
 " Smoke, no — but dust ! " exclaims the gam- 
 busino, soon as sighting it ; " and kicked up 
 by the heels of horses — hundreds of them. 
 There can be nothing else out there to cause 
 that. Horses with men on their backs. If a 
 caballada of wild mustangs, the dust would 
 show more scattered, Indios, por cierto ! 
 Carra-i!" he says in continuation, the shade 
 on his brow sensibly darkening, as with a quick 
 elance over his shoulder he sees real smoke in 
 that direction. " What fools we 've been to 
 kindle fires ! Rank madness. Better to have 
 eaten breakfast raw. I myself most to blame 
 of any ; I should have known the danger. By 
 this they '11 have spied our camp smoke — that 
 of our shots, too. Ah, imichacho ! we 've been 
 foolish in every way." 
 
 Almost breathless from this burst of regret 
 
LOS IN DIGS/ G9 
 
 and self-recrimination, he is for a while silent ; 
 his heart beating audibly, however, as with gaze 
 fixed on the far-off cloud, he endeavours to 
 interpret it. But the dark cloud soon becomes 
 less dense, partially dispersed, and under it 
 appears something more solid ; a clump of 
 sombre hue, but with here and there sparkling 
 points. No separate forms can as yet be 
 made out ; only a mass ; but for all that, the 
 gambusino knows it to be composed of horses 
 and men, the corruscations being the glint of 
 arms and accoutrements, as the sun penetrates 
 through to them. 
 
 "What a pity," he exclaims, resuming speech, 
 " I didn't think of asking Don Estevan for the 
 loan of his telescope! If we only had it here 
 now ! But I can see enough without it ; 't is 
 as I feared. No more hunting for us to-day ; 
 but fighting ere the sun goes down — perhaps 
 ere it reach meridian. Mini ! the thing's 
 splitting into. two. You sec, senorito?" 
 
 The senorito does see that the dust-cloud 
 has parted in twain, as also the dark mass 
 
70 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 underneath. And now they can distinguish 
 separate forms ; horses with men on their 
 backs, and a more conspicuous glittering of 
 arms, because of their being in motion. 
 
 "Ah, yes!" adds the Mexican, with increased 
 gravity of tone, " Indios bravos they are, hun- 
 dreds of them. If Apaches, as sure they must, 
 Heaven help us all ! I know what they mean 
 by that movement. They 've sighted the camp 
 smoke, and intend coming on along both sides 
 of the Cerro. That 's why they 've broken into 
 two bands. Back to camp, as fast as our legs, 
 can carry us ! We 've not a minute — not a 
 second — to lose. Vamos/" 
 
 And back for camp they start, not to spend 
 time on the way as when coming from it, but 
 in a run and rush along the path already 
 opened — past the dead sheep, past the spring, 
 and the strung-up turkeys, without even staying 
 to look at these, much less think of taking 
 them along. 
 
 * * # * * 
 
 The occupants of the miners' camp, men, 
 
LOS IN DIGS! 
 
 women, and children, are up and active now. 
 Some are at work about the wagons, pouring 
 water over their wheels to tighten the tires, 
 loose from the shrinking of the wood ; others 
 have set to mending harness and pack-saddles ; 
 while still others, out on the open plain, are 
 changing the animals to fresh spots of pastur- 
 age. A small party is seen around the carcase 
 of a bullock, in the act of skinning it to get 
 beefsteaks for breakfast. 
 
 Several fires have been kindled, for the 
 people are many, and have separate messes, 
 according to rank and vocation. Around these 
 are the women and grown girls, some bending 
 over red earthenware pots that contain choco- 
 late and coffee, others on their knees with the 
 nictate stone in front, and metlapilla in hand, 
 crushing the boiled maize into paste for the 
 indispensable tortillas. The children play by 
 the lake's edge, wading ankle-deep into the 
 water, plashing about like little ducks ; some 
 of the bigger boys, who have improvised a 
 rude tackle, endeavouring to catch fish. In 
 
71 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 this remote tarn there are such, as it has an 
 affluent stream connecting it with the Rio 
 Horcasitas — now nearly dry, but at times having 
 a volume of water sufficient for the finny tribes 
 to ascend to the lake, into which several species 
 have found their way. 
 
 Within the space enclosed by the wagons — 
 the corral — three tents have been erected, and 
 stand in a row. The middle one is a large 
 square marquee, the two flanking it of the 
 ordinary bell shape. The marquee is occupied 
 by the senior partner and his seiiora ; the one, 
 on the right by their daughter and an Indian 
 vioza — her waiting-maid ; the third affords 
 shelter and sleeping quarters for the two 
 Tresillians. 
 
 All three are for a time empty, their occu- 
 pants having stepped out of them. As known, 
 Henry Tresillian has gone up to the summit of 
 the Cerro, and his father is moving about the 
 camp in the company of the mayor-domo, with 
 an eye to superintendence of everything ; while 
 Don Estevan, his wife, and daughter, have 
 
LOS INDIOSf 73 
 
 strolled out along the lake's edge to enjoy the 
 refreshing breeze wafted over its water. The 
 three promenaders have but made one turn 
 along the sandy shore, and back again, when 
 they hear a cry which not only alarms them, 
 but all within and around the camp. — 
 
 "Los Indios /" 
 
 It has been sent from above — from the head 
 of the ravine; and everybody looks up — all 
 eyes raised simultaneously. To see two men 
 standing on a projecting point of rock, their 
 figures sharply outlined against the blue back- 
 ground of sky ; at the same time to recognize 
 them as the gambusino and Henry Tresillian. 
 Only for an instant are these at a stand ; only 
 to shout down those terrible words of warning ; 
 then both bound into the gorge, and come 
 on at a rush, with risk of breaking their 
 necks. 
 
 At its bottom they are met by an excited, 
 clamorous crowd ; surrounded and assailed by 
 a very tempest of interrogations. But to these 
 they vouchsafe no answer beyond that implied 
 
74 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 in their shout ; instead, push on to where Don 
 Estevan and the elder Tresillian, now together, 
 stand awaiting them. The senior partner is the 
 first to speak, addressing himself to Vicente : 
 
 "You've seen Indians, Don Pedro? Where?" 
 
 "Out upon the llano, your worship — to north- 
 eastward." 
 
 " You're sure of it being Indians ?" 
 
 " Quite sure, senor. We were able to make 
 horses with men on them ; the men unlike any 
 with a white skin, but just as those with a red 
 one. Your worship can take my word for their 
 beinQf Indians." 
 
 " I can, and do. But from what you say, it 
 seems they're still a good way off. How far, 
 think you ? " 
 
 " Ten miles or more, when we came away 
 from the place where we saw them. They 
 can't be much nearer yet, as we've not been 
 over ten minutes on the way." 
 
 The quick time made by the hunters in 
 return is attested by their breathing ; both with 
 nostrils agape and breasts heaving up and 
 
LOS INDIOSl 75 
 
 down as runners at the close of a hard-con- 
 tested race. 
 
 "Tis well they're at such a distance," re- 
 joins Don Estevan. "And lucky your having 
 sighted them before they got nearer." 
 
 " Ah ! senor, they '11 soon be near ; for I 
 know they've sighted us — at least the smoke 
 of our camp, and are already making for it. 
 Light horsemen as they don't need long to 
 traverse ten miles — on a plain like this." 
 
 <( That 's true," assents the ci-devant soldier, 
 with an air of troubled impatience. " What 
 do you advise our doing, Don Pedro ? " 
 
 "Well, for one thing, your worship, we 
 mustn't remain here. We must clear out of 
 this camp as soon as possible. In an hour — 
 ay, less — it may be too late." 
 
 " Your words want explaining, Don Pedro. 
 I don't comprehend them. Clear out of the 
 camp ! But whither are we to go ? " 
 
 "Arriba!" answers the guide, pointing to 
 the gorge, " up yonder." 
 
 " Bui we can't take the animals there. And 
 
76 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 to carry up our goods there wouldn't be 
 time." 
 
 " I know it, your worship. And glad we 
 may be to get ourselves safe up." 
 
 " Then we 're to abandon all ? Is that what 
 you advise ? " 
 
 " It is. I 'm sorry I can give no better advice. 
 There 's no alternative if we wish to live." 
 
 " To lose everything," puts in the junior 
 partner, "goods, animals, machinery! That 
 would be a terrible calamity. Surely, Seiior 
 Vicente, we can defend the camp ; our people 
 are all well armed." 
 
 "Impossible, Don Roberto; impossible were 
 they ever so well armed. From what I could 
 make out of the Indian party it numbers hun- 
 dreds to our tens, sufficient of them to surround 
 as on every side. And even if we could keep 
 them off during daylight, at night they 'd crawl 
 close enough to set the camp on fire. Wagons, 
 tilts, every stick and stitch of them are dry as 
 tinder ; the very pack-saddles would be ablaze 
 with the first spark that fell on them " 
 
LOS INDIOS! 
 
 "But how know we that these Indians arc 
 hostile ? After all, it may be some friendly 
 band ; perhaps Opatas ? " 
 
 " No ! " exclaims the gambusino impatiently. 
 " I saw enough to know they 're not Opatas, 
 nor mansos of any kind ; enough to be sure 
 they 're brazvs, and almost sure, Apaches." 
 
 " Apaches ! " echo several voices in the sur- 
 rounding, in tones proclaiming the dread with 
 which this name inspires the heart of every 
 Sonoreno. Every man present feels a creeping 
 sensation in the skin of his head, as though the 
 scalping-knife were being brandished around it. 
 
 " They 're coming from the direction where 
 Apaches would come," pursues Vicente. " Be- 
 sides, they have no baggage ; not a woman or 
 child to be seen with them. All men, mounted 
 and armed." 
 
 " Indeed, if it be so," rejoins Don Estevan, 
 with brow now darkly shadowed, " we can 
 expect no friendship from them." 
 
 " No mercy either ! " adds the gold-seeker. 
 " Nor have we a right to expect it, after the 
 
78 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 treatment they 've had at the hands of Captain 
 Gil Perez and his men." 
 
 All know to what Vicente alludes : a mas- 
 sacre of Apache Indians by a party of Mexican 
 soldiers, after being lured and lulled into fase 
 security by professions of peace — cold-blooded 
 and cruel, as any recorded in the annals of 
 frontier warfare. 
 
 " I 've said it. I 'm good as sure they 're 
 Apaches," repeats the gambusino, more impres- 
 sively. "And it would be madness, sheer 
 insanity, to await them here. We must up to 
 the mesa" 
 
 " But will we be safe there ? " 
 
 "As in a citadel. No fortress ever contrived, 
 or made by hand of man, is strong as the 
 Cerro Perdido. Twenty men could hold it 
 against as many hundreds — ay, thousands. 
 Carramba! We may thank the Virgin for 
 providing us with such a secure retreat ; so 
 handy, and just in the nick of time." 
 
 "Then let us to it," assents Don Estevan, 
 after a brief consultation with his partner, who 
 
LOS IXDIOS/ 
 
 79 
 
 no longer opposes the step, though by it they 
 may lose their all. " We '11 follow your advice, 
 Senor Vicente ; and you have our authority 
 to order everything as it seems best to you." 
 " I 've only one order to give, your worships; 
 that's arriba! Up, all and everybody!" 
 
 6x5 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TENDER LEAVE-TAKINGS. 
 
 The excitement in the camp, already at full 
 height, now changes to a quick, confused 
 hurrying to and fro, accompanied by cries of 
 many kinds. Here and there is heard the 
 terrified scream of a woman, who, babe in arms, 
 fancies the spear of a savage pointed at her 
 breast, to impale herself and offspring. 
 
 There is a rush for the gorge, up which a 
 stream of human forms is soon seen swarming 
 as ants up their hill. And, with a gallantry 
 which distinguishes the miner as the mariner, 
 the women and children are permitted fore- 
 most place in the upward retreat, assisted by 
 husbands. 
 
 Without serious accident all succeed in reach- 
 ing the summit, where the women are left, the 
 
 80 
 
TENDER EEA VE-TA KLX< ■ S. 6 1 
 
 men who went with them hurrying back below. 
 It is hard to part with valuable property and 
 cherished household gods — still harder to see 
 these appropriated by a hated enemy — and an 
 effort is to be made for saving what can be 
 saved. At first they only thought of their 
 lives ; but half a dozen men, who had sprung 
 to their horses at the earliest moment of alarm, 
 and galloped out beyond the mountain's Hank 
 to get better view, signal back that the Indians 
 are not yet in sight. So there is still a chance 
 to take up a portion of the camp equipage, with 
 such goods as are likely to be most needed in 
 the event of their having to sustain a siege. 
 
 " The ammunition and provender first ! " shouts 
 Vicente, back again at camp, with full authority 
 of direction. " Take up everything that's food 
 for man and loading for gun. After that what- 
 ever we '11 have time for." 
 
 Knowing their women now safe, the men 
 work with spirit ; and soon a different sort of 
 stream is seen ascending the gorge : a string 
 of burden -bearers, continuous from plain to 
 
 6 
 
82 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 summit ; hastily returning down again, relieved 
 of their loads, to take up others. Never were 
 bees so busy. Some remain below, getting the 
 goods out of the wagons, and making packages 
 of them, convenient for the difficult transport. 
 The bales and boxes — lading of the pack-mules 
 — are broken open, and their more valuable 
 effects picked out and carried off; so that in a 
 short space of time not much remains save the 
 mining tools and machinery, with the heavier 
 articles of house furniture. 
 
 Could the Rattlesnake have known of this 
 quick precautionary sacking of the camp by its 
 owners, he and his would have approached it 
 in greater haste. But they are seen coming on 
 now. The mounted videttes have at length 
 signalled them in sight, they themselves gallop- 
 ing in at the same time, and dropping down 
 from their horses. 
 
 There is a last gathering up of bundles, which 
 includes the two smaller tents — the marquee 
 left standing. Then the final debandade ; all 
 turning face towards the gorge, and toiling up it. 
 
TENDER LEA I 'K-T. I KINGS. W 
 
 No, not all as yet ; more than one lingers 
 below. For the horses must needs be left 
 behind ; impossible to take them up a steep 
 where only goat, sheep, or clawed creature 
 might go. And more than one has a master 
 who parts with it reluctantly. Regretfully, too, 
 at thought of its changing owner, and to such 
 owner as will soon enter upon possession. 
 Even some of the teamsters and muleteers 
 have an affection for their mules, the head 
 arriero regarding the whole atajo as his 
 children, and the "bell-mare" almost as a 
 mother. Many a long mile and league has he 
 listened to her guiding bell ; its cheerful tinkle 
 proclaiming the route clear along narrow dizzy 
 ledge, or through deep defile. And now he 
 will hear its music no more. 
 
 But the ties must be severed, the parting 
 
 take place. Which it does, amidst phrases and 
 
 ejaculations of leave-taking, tender as though 
 
 the left ones were human beings instead of 
 
 dumb brutes. " Caballo — caballito qucrido /" 
 
 " Mula-mulita mial" " Pobrc-pobrccita ! Dios 
 
 6—2 
 
84 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 te guarda ! " And mingled with these are 
 exclamations of a less gentle kind — anathemas 
 hurled at the red-skins coming on to take pos- 
 session of their pets. 
 
 At this last Pedro Vicente is among the 
 loudest. As yet he has had only half-payment 
 for his late discovered mine, the remaining 
 moiety dependent on the working it. And 
 now the crash — all the mining apparatus to be 
 destroyed — perhaps the purchasing firm made 
 bankrupt, if even life be left them. Thinking 
 of all this, and what he has already suffered 
 at the hands of "Los Indios" no wonder at 
 his cursing them. He, however, is not one 
 of those taking affectionate and sentimental 
 farewell of their animals. His horse is a late 
 purchase, and though of fine appearance, has 
 proved aught but a bargain. For there are 
 " copers " in Arispe as elsewhere, and the gam- 
 bit sino has been their victim. Hence he parts 
 with the disappointing steed neither regret- 
 fully nor reluctantly. But not with the saddle 
 and bridle ; these, of elaborate adornment 
 
TENDER LEAVE-TAKINGS. 85 
 
 having cost him far more than the horse. So 
 shouldering them, he too re-ascends, last of all 
 save one. 
 
 That one is Henry Tresillian ; and very 
 different is the parting between him and the 
 animal of his belonging. The English youth 
 almost sheds tears as he stands by his horse's 
 head, patting his neck and stroking his muzzle, 
 the last time he may ever lay hand on either. 
 Nay, surely, too surely, the last. And the 
 noble creature seems to know it too, respond- 
 ing to the caress by a low mournful whimper- 
 ing. 
 
 "Ah! my beautiful Crusader! to think I 
 must leave you behind ! And to be ridden by 
 a red-skin — a cruel savage who will take no 
 care of you. Oh ! it is hard — hard ! " 
 
 Crusader appears to comprehend what is 
 said, for his answer is something like a moan. 
 It may be that he interprets the melancholy 
 expression on his master's face — that master 
 who has been so kind to him. 
 
 "A last farewell, brave fellow ! Be it a kiss," 
 
THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 says the youth, bringing his lips in contact with 
 those of the horse. Then pulling off the head- 
 stall, with its attached trail-rope, and letting them 
 drop to the ground, he again speaks the sad 
 word " farewell," and, turning back on his be- 
 loved steed, walks hurriedly and determinedly 
 away, as though fearing resolution might fail 
 him. 
 
 Soon he commences climbing up the gorge ; 
 all the others who have gone before now nearly 
 out of it. But ere he has ascended ten steps, 
 he hears that behind which causes him to stop 
 and look back. Not in alarm : he knows it to 
 be the neigh of his own horse, accompanied by 
 the stroke of his hoofs in quick repetition — 
 Crusader coming on in a gallop for the gorge. 
 In another instant he is by its bottom, on hind 
 legs, rearing up against the rocky steep, as if 
 determined to scale it. 
 
 In vain : after an effort he drops back on all 
 fours. But to rear up and try again and again, 
 all the while giving utterance to wild, agonized 
 neighs — very screams 
 
TENDER LEAVE-TAKINGS, B7 
 
 To Henry Tresillian the sight is saddening, 
 the sound torture, stirring his heart to its deep- 
 est depths. To escape the seeing — though he 
 cannot so soon the hearing — he once more turns 
 his back upon the horse, and hastens on up- 
 ward. But when half-way to the head, he 
 cannot resist taking another downward look. 
 Which shows him Crusader yet by the bottom 
 of the gorge, but now standing still on all fours, 
 as if resigned to the inevitable. Not silent, 
 however ; instead, at short intervals, giving 
 utterance to that neigh of melancholy cadence, 
 alike proclaiming discomfiture and despair. 
 
 ^ A g 
 
 - m 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " IT 'S THE RATTLESNAKE." 
 
 On again reaching the summit Henry Tre- 
 sillian finds his father there with Don Estevan 
 and most of the men. These last, under the 
 direction of the ci-devant soldier, are collecting 
 large stones, and laying them all round the head 
 of the gorge. 
 
 One might fancy them building a breastwork, 
 but nothing of that kind is their intention, none 
 such being needed. As Vicente had said, it is 
 a fortress of nature's construction, stronger than 
 any ever built by the hand of man, and would 
 defy breaching by all the artillery in the world. 
 Ammunition is what the stones are being col- 
 lected for, to be rolled down the slope in case 
 the enemy should attempt scaling it. Most of 
 them have to be brought up out of the gorge 
 
 88 
 
"IT'S THE RATTLESNAKE." 89 
 
 itself, as but few lie loose on the summit. A 
 work that, with so many and willing hands, 
 takes up but short time, and soon a ridge 
 appears in horseshoe shape around the spot 
 where the path leads out upon the level. 
 
 Others of the men have gone on to the glade 
 by the spring, where the women and children 
 are now assembled, the effects brought up from 
 below lying scattered about them. Some, still 
 in affright, are moving excitedly to and fro; 
 others, with greater courage and calmness, have 
 taken seats on the boxes and bundles. 
 
 The seriora and her daughter, with the 
 family servants, form a group apart, the eyes 
 of Gertrude scanning with anxious interrogative 
 glance each new party as it appears on the 
 edge of the opening. She has been told that 
 Henrique is still upon the plain, and fears he 
 may linger there too long. 
 
 As yet no move has been made to set up 
 the tents, or otherwise establish camp. There 
 are some who cling to the hope that after all 
 it may not be necessary. The Indians have 
 
90 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 not yet shown themselves at the southern end, 
 and nothing is known of their character save 
 by conjecture. As that is based on but a dis- 
 tant view of them, it is little reliable ; and the 
 guide is directed by Don Estevan to hasten 
 north again, and see what can be seen further. 
 
 This time he takes the telescope with him, 
 and signals are arranged before starting. Gun 
 signals, of course : a single shot to say the 
 Indians are still advancing towards the Cerro ; 
 two, that they are near ; a third, denoting their 
 character made out ; while a fourth will pro- 
 claim them draws, and of some hostile tribe. 
 
 By this it might appear as if the gambusino 
 bore upon his person a very battery of small 
 arms ; while in reality he has only his rifle, with 
 a pair of single-barrelled pistols of ancient 
 fashion and doubtful fire. But, as before, he 
 is to be accompanied by Henry Tresillian, 
 whose double gun will make good any defi- 
 ciency in the signal shots — should all four be 
 needed. 
 
 This settled, off the two go again on their old 
 
"IT'S THE RATTLESNAKE" 91 
 
 track, first passing through the glade by the ojo 
 de agua. There the English youth tarries a 
 moment — only a brief one — to exchange a 
 word with the seiiora, and a tender glance with 
 Gertrude, whose eyes follow him no longer in 
 fear, but now all admiration. She has been 
 told of the strange parting between him and his 
 favourite steed — her favourite as well — and the 
 fearlessness he displayed, staying down upon 
 the plain after all the others had left it. 
 
 "Such courage!" she mentally exclaims, as 
 she sees him dash on after the guide. " Dios 
 mio / he dare do anything.*' 
 
 Proceeding at a run, in less than fifteen 
 minutes' time the videttes arrive at their former 
 place of observation on the projecting point of 
 the cliff; and without delay Vicente lengthens 
 out the telescope, raising it to his eye. To see, 
 at first view, what justifies their sounding the 
 first and second signals: the savages still coming 
 
 o o o 
 
 on for the Cerro, and now near ! 
 
 " Fire off both your barrels ! " he directs on 
 the instant ; and, without lowering the glass, 
 
92 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "Allow a little time between, that our people 
 mayn't mistake it for a single shot." 
 
 The English youth, elevating the muzzle of 
 his gun, presses the front trigger, and then, 
 after an interval, the back one, and the shots in 
 succession go reverberating along the cliff in 
 echo upon echo. 
 
 Scarce have these died away when the 
 Mexican again speaks, this time not only to 
 say the other two signals are to be given, but 
 with words and in tone telling of even more. 
 " Carramba /" he cries out, "just as I expected, 
 and worse ! Apaches, and the cruellest, most 
 hostile of all, Coyoreros ! Quick, muchacho! " 
 he continues, still keeping the telescope to his 
 eye, " pull the pistols out of my belt and fire off 
 both." 
 
 Again two loud cracks, with a few seconds 
 of time between, resound along the cliff, while 
 the dusky horsemen, now near enough for their 
 individual forms to be distinguishable by the 
 naked eye, are seen to have come to a halt, 
 seated on their horses and gazing upward. But 
 
"IT'S THE RATTLESNAKE." 93 
 
 through the glass Vicente sees more, which still 
 further excites him. 
 
 11 Por todos dcmonios csta El Cascabel ! " (By 
 all the devils it 's the Rattlesnake !) 
 
 " El Cascabel ! " echoes the English youth, 
 less puzzled by the odd name than surprised 
 at the manner of him who has pronounced it. 
 " Who is he, Don Pedro ? " 
 
 " Ah, seiiorito ! you '11 find that out too soon 
 — all of us, I fear, to our cost. Yes ! " he 
 goes on talking, with the telescope still upheld, 
 " 't is El Cascabel, I can make out the death's 
 head on his breast, original pattern of that on 
 my own. He and his made the copy, the 
 brutes burning it into my flesh in sheer 
 wanton mockery. Malraya ! we 're in for it 
 now ; a sie^e till the crack of doom, or till all 
 of us are starved dead. No hope of escaping 
 it." 
 
 " But if we surrender, might they not be 
 merciful ?" 
 
 " Merciful ! surrender to the Rattlesnake ! 
 That would be as putting ourselves in the 
 
94 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 power of the reptile he takss his name from. 
 You forget Gil Perez and his massacre." 
 
 "No, indeed. But was it Coyoteros he 
 massacred ?" 
 
 " Coyoteros ; and of this very band. El 
 Cascabel 's not like to have forgotten that ; 
 and will now make us innocent people pay for 
 it. Ay de mi! " 
 
 With this final exclamation, uttered in a tone 
 of deep despondence, the Mexican relapses into 
 silence. But only for a few seconds longer, to 
 look through the telescope. He has seen 
 enough to know all which can be known, and 
 too truly conjectures what is likely to ensue. 
 
 The party of Indians, led by El Cascabel, is 
 again moving onward, and a sweep of the glass 
 around to the north-west shows the other party 
 making to turn the mountain on its western 
 side. The gambusino can count them now; sees 
 that they number over two hundred, enough 
 to put all hope of a successful encounter with 
 them out of the question. As for retreat, it is 
 too late for that. Surrounded are the luckless 
 
"IT'S THE RATTLESNAKE." 95 
 
 miners, or soon will be; besieged on the summit 
 of a mountain as within the walls of a fortress, 
 and as far removed from any chance of succour 
 as castaways on a desert isle in mid-ocean. 
 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 AN ENFILADING LINE. 
 
 The " stone artillery " has been got together ; 
 a huge pile of it, forming at the same time 
 protecting parapet and battery of guns ; the 
 men have desisted from their work, and having 
 nothing more to do, at least for a time, stand 
 listening for the signals. They know that such 
 have been arranged, without having been told 
 their exact bearing. 
 
 But they are soon to learn it; almost instantly 
 after hearing a shot, and then quick succeeding 
 it another, as the discharges from a double- 
 barrelled gun. 
 
 "The Indians coming on, and near !" says 
 Don Estevan, interpreting to those around. 
 " We may look to see them soon yonder." 
 
 He nods towards the abandoned camp, a 
 9 6 
 
AN ENFILADING LINE. 97 
 
 portion of which is visible from the head of the 
 gorge. 
 
 This causes a turning of all eyes in its direc- 
 tion, and on the llano beyond. But scarce have 
 they commenced scanning it when two other 
 shots, less loud but with a like interval between, 
 reach their ears, proceeding from the same 
 quarter. 
 
 "The pistols — signals three and four !" me- 
 chanically pronounces the ex-officer of dragoons, 
 his sallow features showing further clouded. 
 " There's no more to listen for now," he adds. 
 " Don Pedro was right. Apaches they must 
 be, and on a marauding expedition — likely for 
 the towns of the Horcasitas, and, unluckily, we 
 in their way. Ah, amigos ! it's an ill look-out 
 for us ; could not well be worse." 
 
 But worse it is, as they are yet to learn. 
 And soon do learn from the lips of the gam- 
 bit sino, who, returning in breathless haste, cries 
 out ere he is up to them, 
 
 " Los Coyotcros ! The band of El Cascabel ! " 
 
 Words of terrible portent, needing no ex- 
 
 7 
 
98 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 planation, for they recall to the minds of all 
 present that sanguinary incident already alluded 
 to. The dastardly deed of Captain Perez and 
 his ruffianly soldiery is likely to be retaliated on 
 men, not only themselves guiltless, but every 
 one of whom has condemned it ! For how can 
 they expect mercy from the friends and relatives 
 of his murdered victims ? How hope for any 
 distinction or exception in their favour ? They 
 cannot, and do not, knowing that ever since that 
 inhuman massacre the Apaches have treated 
 every pale-face as a foe, the Coyoteros killing 
 all prisoners that fall into their hands, after 
 torturing them. 
 
 " You think it 's the band of Cascabel ? " 
 It is Don Estevan who questions in rejoinder 
 to the gambusind s brief but expressive report. 
 " Think ! I 'm sure of it, your worship. 
 Through this good glass of yours I recognized 
 that savage himself, knowing him too well. It 
 enabled me to make out his totem, the pretty 
 device on his breast, of which this on mine's 
 but a poor copy. Mira J " 
 
7 ENFILADING LI 
 
 \\ bile speaking, he unbuttons his shirt-front 
 and draws the plaits apart, as a screen from 
 some precious picture, exposing- to the view of 
 all what he had already shown to Henry 
 Tresillian. As most of them remember having 
 heard of the sepulchral symbol borne by the 
 Coyotero chief, with that other more appro- 
 priate to his name, they now know the sort of 
 enemy that is approaching, and what they have 
 to expect. No more among them is there hope 
 of either friendship or mercy. On one side, the 
 stronger, it will be attack hostile and vengeful; 
 on the other, and weaker — theirs, alas ! — it 
 must be resistance and defence even unto 
 death. 
 
 Though fully convinced of this, the miners 
 remain calm, with that confidence due to danger 
 seeming still distant. They know they are safe 
 for the time, unassailable, the gambusino having 
 given them assurance of it. But they now see 
 it for themselves, and any apprehensions they 
 have are less for the present than the future. 
 Sure are they that a siege is before them, how 
 
 7—2 
 
100 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 long they cannot guess, nor in which way it 
 will terminate. And there may be chances of 
 relief or escape they have not thought of. 
 Hope is hard to kill, and the least hopeful 
 of them has not yet yielded to despair. Time 
 enough for that when starvation stares them in 
 the face, for hunger — famine — is the foe they 
 have most to fear. 
 
 But they think not of things so far ahead. 
 They must first see the enemy of which their 
 guide has given such awe-inspiring account ; 
 and, with glances sent abroad and over that 
 portion of the plain visible to them, they await 
 his appearance on it. 
 
 Nearly another hour elapses without any 
 enemy seen. The horses and mules have eot 
 over their late excitement, and are again tran- 
 quilly depasturing, some having waded into the 
 lake to cool their hoofs, still hot after their 
 long Jornada. But none wander away from 
 the proximity of the camp ; the only animals 
 out on the plain being prong-horn antelopes, 
 a herd of which, on their way to the water too, 
 
AN ENFILADING LlMl. 
 
 has been deterred approaching it by the pre- 
 sence of huoe monsters unknown to them — the 
 wagons. But these have not hindered the 
 approach of the black-winged birds ; instead, 
 attracted them, and a large tlock is now around 
 the abandoned camp, some wheeling above, 
 others at rest on the ground or perched upon 
 the rock-boulders which bestrew it. A crowd, 
 collected on the spot where the ox had been 
 butchered for breakfast, contest possession of 
 its offal. 
 
 All of a sudden, and simultaneously, a move- 
 ment is perceptible among the animals, birds as 
 quadrupeds, the wild as the tame. The prong- 
 horns with a snort raise their heads aloft as if 
 they saw or scented some new danger, then 
 lope off at lightning speed. The vultures take 
 wing, but only rise a little way into the air, to 
 soar round in circles; while the horses, mules, 
 and horned cattle, as if seized by a frenzy of 
 madness, rush excitedly about, wildly neighing 
 and bellowing, at each instant threatening to 
 break away in stampede. 
 
THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " They smell redskin," knowingly observes 
 the gambusino, who is among the rest watching 
 their movements. " Yes ; and we '11 soon see 
 the ugly thing itself. Chingara / yonder it is." 
 
 He has no need to point out either the thing 
 or the place. The eyes of all are now on it ; 
 the head of a dusky cohort just appearing round 
 the eastern projection of the Cerro, becoming 
 elongated as file after file unfolds itself. They 
 are still afar off — at least a league — nor is their 
 line of march directed towards the mountain, 
 but westward, as though they intended turning 
 it. 
 
 No such manoeuvre is meant, however, as the 
 miners, forewarned by their guide, are already 
 aware. His words are made good by their 
 seeing soon after another dark line developing 
 itself on the llano, at a like distance off, but 
 coming from the opposite direction. 
 
 " The party that went west about," says the 
 gambusino, half in soliloquy ; " cunning in them 
 to make a complete surround of us. I suppose 
 they thought we were but horsemen, and might 
 
Till. ENFILADING LINK. — p. 102 
 
AN ENFILADING LINE. I 1 3 
 
 get away from them. It" they'd seen our 
 wagons, it would have saved them some trouble. 
 Well, they see everything now." 
 
 No one makes rejoinder, all intently gazing 
 at the two marching bands, now with eyes on 
 one, then quickly transferred to the other. The 
 portion of the plain visible is sextant-shaped — ■ 
 the view on either side cut off by the flanking 
 ridees of the ravine — and from each side the 
 string of savage horsemen is continuously 
 lengthening out. Not rapidly, but in slow 
 leisurely crawl, as if confident they had already 
 secured the enfiladement of the camp. With a 
 thicker concentration near the head of each, and 
 a metallic sparkle all along their line — the sheen 
 of their armour under the rays of the meridian 
 sun — they appear as two huge serpents of ante- 
 diluvian age, deliberately drawing towards one 
 another either for friendship or combat. 
 
 In due time their front files come together, 
 near the central part of the sextant ; though 
 the rear ones are still invisible ; — how many 
 of these no one knows, save approximately. 
 
104 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Enough, however, are already in sight to make 
 a formidable array, and put all thought of 
 conflict with them out of the question. The 
 miners but congratulate themselves on their 
 fortune in finding that secure place of retreat, 
 which will enable them to shun it. Grateful 
 are they to their guide for making it known — 
 and they have reason. If within their late 
 camp instead of where they now are, the hours 
 of their life would be numbered — perhaps to 
 count only minutes. At the best they could 
 but save bare life for a time, but nothing to 
 comfort or sustain it. 
 
 All this they have come to comprehend 
 thoroughly as they continue to watch the move- 
 ments of the Coyoteros, and see the cordon 
 these have drawn around them. But for some 
 minutes there is no movement at all, the bands 
 after uniting having come to a halt, the files 
 making quarter-wheel, so as to face the Cerro 
 — all done as by trained cavalry on a parade- 
 ground ! And for a while they stay halted, the 
 change of front giving their alignment a thinner 
 
AN ENFILADING LINE. 105 
 
 look. But at the central point is a thicker 
 clump, without military formation, on which 
 Don Estevan directs his telescope. To see 
 half a dozen of the mounted savages face to 
 face with one another, earnestly, excitedly 
 gesticulating. After a look through it, he 
 tenders the glass to the gambusino, who may 
 better understand what they are about. 
 
 " El Cascabel and his sub-chiefs in consul- 
 tation," pronounces the latter, soon as sighting 
 them. "It's plain they're puzzled by seeing 
 wagons where never were such before. Like 
 as not they think we 're soldados, and that 
 makes them cautious. But they'll soon know 
 different. Por Dios ! they know it now. 
 They 're coming on ! " 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A CAMP WITHOUT OCCUPANTS. 
 
 The gambusino has guessed everything aright, 
 if words spoken in the confidence of know- 
 ledge can be called guesses. True they prove, 
 to the spirit as the letter ; for it is just that 
 unaccustomed spectacle of wheeled vehicles 
 with their white canvas covers that caused the 
 Indians to keep their deploying line so far 
 aloof, and bring it to a halt for deliberation. 
 Notwithstanding their being masters of all 
 that desert country, lords of the llanos, they 
 themselves do not always traverse it without 
 difficulties to encounter and dangers to dread. 
 The wagons proclaim the camp occupied by 
 white men ; and knowing these to be ordinary 
 travellers, miners on the move, or commerciantcs 
 
 on a trading expedition to the frontier towns, 
 
 1 06 
 
A CAMP WITHOUT OCCUPANTS. 107 
 
 the Coyoteros would little regard them— cer- 
 tainly not enough to have made that long 
 detour with so much delay in approaching 
 them. But it may be a military encampment ; 
 and' if so, will need to be dealt with differently 
 — hence their unwonted caution. 
 
 Soon as the two bands became conjoined, 
 El Cascabel had summoned his sub-chiefs 
 around him, to take their opinions upon this 
 point. For among Indians the head chief is 
 not armed with despotic authority, but must 
 submit his intended course of action to the 
 approval of his following, even when on the 
 maraud. And as the gambusino rightly con- 
 jectured, this it was which occupied them at 
 that temporary halt. 
 
 A question without difficulty, and soon de- 
 cided. In the negative as regarded the camp 
 being occupied by soldiers. Were it so, men 
 in uniform would be observable around it ; 
 whereas none such are seen. Nor human form 
 of any kind ; only animals — horses, and mules, 
 with horned cattle commingled — all careering 
 
108 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 madly about as if masterless, or escaped from 
 their masters' control. 
 
 This might seem an odd circumstance, yet 
 it does not to the savages. From experience 
 they know that all animals belonging to the 
 pale-faces become affrighted at their own prox- 
 imity — often to break from their fastenings, 
 however secure. Such a scare is likely what 
 they see now. 
 
 All the more does it assure them they will 
 not have to deal with soldados. These would 
 have their horses under better discipline, would 
 indeed by this time be on their backs, at least 
 some of them. 
 
 Satisfied of its being a camp of civilians, at 
 a signal sent along their line the red horsemen 
 make a move forward, their files becoming 
 thicker as the cordon contracts into nearer and 
 narrower curve. Still they advance slowly, not 
 through fear or want of confidence, but because 
 they feel sure their enhladement is complete, 
 and their victims enclosed. But another idea 
 rules their cautious approach. A splendid 
 
A CAMP WITHOUT OCCUPANTS. 109 
 
 prize is before them in that large ca Calladct, 
 and to ride hurriedly in might lead to the loose 
 animals breaking through their ranks, and 
 scattering off over the plain, with after difficulty 
 of capturing them. For just then they might 
 have enough to do with their owners. Besides, 
 there can be no surprise. The occupants of 
 the camp, whoever they be, must have seen 
 them long since, and are watching them now, 
 though not one of themselves can be seen. 
 Nothing so strange in this ; they are inside the 
 wagon enclosure, screened by the ridge of 
 alparejas that form a sort of breastwork around 
 it. And the ruck of frightened animals rush- 
 ing to and fro between further prevents 
 view of them. The more reason for deli- 
 berate approach, this attitude of the white 
 men telling of an intention to stand upon the 
 defence. 
 
 lit coming convinced of this, the Indians give 
 up thought of immediate attack. They will 
 wait for the night's darkness to give them a 
 better opportunity; and when at such a dis- 
 
110 THE LOST MOUNT MX. 
 
 tance as they deem beyond longest gun range, 
 they again come to a halt. 
 
 They would dismount, holding their horses 
 in readiness ; and some are already on the 
 ground. But before all alight, a word is sent 
 along their circular line, ordering them up 
 again. Something has transpired to give cause 
 for a change of purpose. 
 
 Soon they know what, seeing that the camp 
 animals have retreated back beyond the wagons 
 up into an embayment of the cliff, where they 
 stand in a clump, cowering and still showing 
 scare, but at rest. It is not that, however, 
 which has made the Coyoteros re-mount, but 
 because their view of the camp now being clear 
 they still cannot see human beings in or around 
 it. With eyes bent in keenest quest between 
 the corraled wagons, through the spokes of 
 their wheels, all along the periphery of pack- 
 saddles, nothing in the shape of human form 
 or face can they make out. Yet the sun is in 
 their favour, and if such was there they could 
 not fail seeing it. Puzzled are the savages 
 
A CAM I' WITHOUT OCCUPANTS. Ill 
 
 now, and for the first time — since it is the first 
 time for them to have such an experience. 
 For the moment it even mystifies them, and 
 thoughts of the supernatural come creeping' into 
 their minds. They know Nauchampa-tepetl to 
 a place of weird repute, so figuring in many 
 a record and legend of their race. And now 
 to see a camp there, a camp of the pale-faces, 
 with every appointment appertaining, wheeled 
 vehicles drawn up in corral with a grand tent 
 inside — for the marquee, still standing, is con- 
 spicuous through a break between the wagons 
 — with all the animals that should be there, and 
 yet no man, no one seeming to own or control 
 them, that is certainly strange, to the point of 
 astonishment — even awe ! 
 
 And for a time it so affects the savage 
 warriors, their chief not excepted. But only 
 for a time. Notwithstanding his ghostly coat- 
 of-arms, El Cascabel is but little the slave of 
 superstition ; and, after a moment's reflection, 
 feels satisfied there are pale-faces in the camp, 
 though invisible to the view of him and his. 
 
112 THE LOST MOUNT A IX. 
 
 In that, as the reader knows, he is wrong; but 
 right in the way he takes to test it. 
 
 It may seem the veriest grotesquerie here to 
 introduce that venerated weapon, known as the 
 " Queen Anne musket," yet the truthfulness of 
 this record requires its introduction. 
 
 For strange as it may appear, this historical 
 piece, with all its imperfections, has found its 
 way to every corner of the world ; even into 
 the hands of the Apache Indians. How they 
 became possessed of it needs but a word of ex- 
 planation, which is, that they had it — took it — 
 from their hereditary enemies, the Mexicans — 
 fiom the infanterio of that nation, armed with 
 the old condemned " Queen Anne's " of London 
 Tower celebrity. 
 
 Leaving this necessary digression, and return- 
 ing to the Coyoteros — more especially to their 
 chief, we hear him call out to those of his fol- 
 lowers who carry the ancient firelock, giving 
 them orders to advance some paces and send 
 shots into the white man's camp. 
 
 Dismounting, they do so, aiming at the 
 
THE COYOTEROS PIRING INTO THE CORRAL-7" :'■ ". _ 
 
A CAMP WITHOUT OCCUPANTS. 113 
 
 wagons and tent inside, so correctly that their 
 big bullets, an ounce in weight, are seen to hit 
 the mark. But without effect following, any 
 more than if their shots were meant for the 
 facade of cliff beyond, whose rocks echo back 
 the reports of the antiquated pieces, as if in 
 hilarious mockery. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE CHASE OF CRUSADER. 
 
 By El Cascabel's orders, repeatedly are the 
 big muskets re-loaded and fired into the corral, 
 till every wagon has had a bullet through it, 
 and the tent is pierced in several places. But 
 all with the same effect, the shots eliciting no 
 other response than their own echoes. Now 
 the Indians know for sure that the camp is 
 unoccupied ; and, but for their foreknowledge 
 of the topography of the place, would be mysti- 
 fied indeed. But most of them have themselves 
 been on the summit of Nauchampa-tapetl, 
 and their eyes turn interrogatively towards it. 
 Thither the white men must have retreated, 
 leaving everything below. 
 
 They see nothing, however ; not as much 
 as a face. For Don Estevan has directed 
 
 114 
 
THE CHAsF. OF CRUSADER. 115 
 
 those by the head of the gorge to keep well 
 under cover, in hopes of tempting the savages 
 to an ascent in the face of his formidable battery. 
 
 But the Coyotcro chief is too astute for that, 
 knewiner, moreover, that there is no chance for 
 the despised enemy to escape him. Wrathful 
 he is withal, at having been in a way outwitted, 
 angry at himself for having made the surround 
 so slowly. It will cost him a siege, he knows 
 not how long, interfering with the expedition 
 to the Horcasitas, perhaps to its abandonment. 
 But there is some compensation in the plunder 
 so unexpectedly come upon, and from what he 
 sees it should be an ample one. Six large 
 wagons with a grand tienda — litera also — vis- 
 ible, to say nothing of the numerous animals, a 
 travelling party so well appointed should also 
 have commodities in correspondence, promis- 
 ing a rich prize. 
 
 The camp is good as captured already ; but 
 instead of hastening on to take possession, he 
 proceeds slowly and systematically as ever ; for 
 nothing can be gained by speed now, and some- 
 
11 G THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 thing may be lost — the loose animals. They 
 are still crowded up in the embayment between 
 the cliffs, but with heads aloft and ears apeak, 
 neighing, snorting, and restless, as if about to 
 make a break. 
 
 "Leave aside arms, all — guns, and spears!" 
 commands the chief. "Get ready the riatasf" 
 
 All together drop down from their horses, 
 those who carry spears sticking them upright 
 in the ground, those with firelocks laying them 
 along it. Any impedimenta of baggage and ac- 
 coutrements are also pulled off and flung beside- 
 Then they vault back upon their animals, each 
 with but his trail-rope carried in coil over the 
 left arm, to be used as a lazo. 
 
 Thus disencumbered and equipped, they at 
 length advance, not for the camp, but the cabal- 
 lada ; but ere they can close up the mouth of 
 the cove the white men's animals become more 
 affrighted than ever, and make the burst they 
 had been threatening — horses, mules, and oxen 
 all toeether. With a noise of thunder, the 
 ground echoes the tread of their hundreds of 
 
THE CHASE OF ( RUSADER 117 
 
 hooves, as in frenzied madness they rush out 
 for the open plain. Little chance would there 
 be of their reaching it but that the Indian 
 horses catch the stampede, too, many of them 
 becoming unmanageable. The enfilading line 
 is broken, and through its riven ranks the camp 
 animals sweep as a hurricane. One is in the 
 lead — a large horse, coal black, on whom many 
 an Indian had set eye, with lazo ready for his 
 capture. Crusader it is, his neigh heard above 
 all others, as, with head on high, mane tossed, 
 and tail streaming afar, he dashes at the severed 
 line ; again uttered, as it were exultingly, when, 
 having cleared it, he sees no enemy before him. 
 Half a dozen nooses are flung at and after him, 
 all ill-directed ; all fall short, and slide from his 
 glistening flanks, while as many disappointed 
 cries follow him in chorus. 
 
 All is scamper and confusion now ; the 
 surround has failed, the stampede taken place, 
 and the stampeded animals, such as succeeded 
 in o-ettin'-' off — for not all went clear — can only 
 be captured after a chase. But the Indian 
 
118 THE Lost MOUNTAIN. 
 
 horses quickly get over their scare, and are laid 
 on the pursuit till a stream of them stretches 
 out on the llano. Fresher and in better con- 
 dition than the camp animals, these are soon 
 overtaken and noosed, now one, now another, 
 till at length only a single horse is seen beyond 
 the pursuing line. 
 
 Followed still, but so far beyond it, at each 
 bound widening the distance, that a pair of eyes 
 watching the chase, at first apprehensively, now 
 sparkle with delight. For they are the eyes 
 of his own master, Henry Tresillian, standing 
 on the mesa's summit behind a screening tree. 
 
 Half a score of the savages still continue the 
 pursuit, among them their chief himself. For 
 he would give much to be the owner of that 
 matchless steed, and now strains his own to the 
 utmost. All in vain. Crusader forges farther 
 and farther away, till he is but a speck upon 
 the plain. Then the baffled pursuers, one 
 after another, give up discouraged, at length El 
 Cascabel also coming to a stop, and turning to 
 ride back with an air of angry disappointment. 
 
THE CHASE OF CRUSADER. 11 'J 
 
 The English youth, yielding to a thrill oi 
 proud exultation, waves his cap in the air, 
 giving utterance to a triumphant "Hurrah!" 
 
 " I m so glad he's got away from them," he 
 says, to Vicente, by his side; "wherever he 
 may go or whatever become of him. My 
 noble Crusader ! But wasn't it clever ? Wasn't 
 it grand ? " 
 
 "Wonderful!" responds the gambusino, alike 
 moved to admiration. " I never saw horse 
 behave so in all my born life. Santissima! he 
 must be a witch, if not the demonio himself." 
 
 TT "»* W TV* TV 
 
 The Indians, leading back the captured 
 animals, and recovering their arms, no longer 
 delay entering the camp. Which, to their 
 chagrin, they find not only abandoned, but 
 wellnigh despoiled, as if other plunderers had 
 been there before them ! That much has been 
 carried off, and of course of the most valuable 
 kind, is evinced by boxes broken open, bales 
 unroped and the contents extracted, with here 
 and there empty spaces in the wagons, where 
 
120 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 evidently something had been stored. There 
 is little left for them save the refuse, or effects 
 of a nature to be of no use to them. What care 
 they for mining tools and machinery ? 
 
 More than ever are they angry and regretful 
 of their ill-judged delay ; but vow deadlier ven- 
 geance, when the time comes for it. 
 
 Still that may not be soon. The very fashion 
 of retreat shows it to have been made with 
 deliberation, and that the white men intend 
 standing a siege, with the hopes and the where- 
 withal to hold out ever so long. And they, the 
 Indians, knowing the danger of breasting that 
 steep in the face of resolute defenders, have no 
 thought of attempting it. But the goods that 
 have been carried up must remain there, and 
 sooner or later fall into their hands. 
 
 So consoling themselves, the new occupants 
 of the camp settle down to the siege, after 
 having secured their animals — both their own 
 and those they have just come into possession 
 of. All are put out to grass, " hoppled " or 
 tethered on trail-ropes. Then the fires, found 
 
11IK CHASE OF CRUSADER. 121 
 
 smouldering, arc replenished with fresh fuel, 
 and blaze up brightly as ever, with spits and 
 roasting joints all round them. 
 
 This day the Coyoteros dine on beef, instead 
 of their customary diet of mezcal and baked 
 horseflesh. And a plenteous repast they make. 
 Not for a long time have they had such an 
 opportunity of gormandizing. In their desert 
 land of Apacheria provisions are scarce — often 
 to starvation-point ; and they now feast glut- 
 tonously, as if to make up for many a fast. 
 
 Nor are they without drinkables, though 
 none brought they along with them. In a 
 corner of one of the wagons is a cask — which 
 on being tapped is found to be filled with 
 ckingarita — a fiery spirit distilled from the very 
 plant, chief staple of their food— the mezcal. 
 The Coyoteros know it well, and though they 
 do not themselves distil, they drink it and are 
 so fond of it as to wonder why the cask is there, 
 and not also carried up the mountain ! 
 
 Drawn out, and rolled to the middle of the 
 corral, they dance in delight around it, re- 
 
122 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 pieatedly quaffing from their calabash cups, with 
 such an accompaniment of noises that the camp, 
 lately occupied by men and women, might seem 
 to have come into the possession of devils. 
 
 And so on till night. Then demon-like in- 
 deed are the forms seen flitting around its fires, 
 and as much the faces, lit up by the red glare 
 from blazing fagots of mezquite and pifion — both 
 
 resinous trees. Still more the discordant sounds 
 
 > 
 
 a chorus of cries and ejaculations, in mad wild 
 yelling, as of Bedlam broke loose. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A RETRIBUTIVE SHOT. 
 
 It is midnight, and darkness over mountain 
 and plain ; pitch darkness, although there is a 
 moon in the sky. But she is not visible, ob- 
 scured by a bank of thick cumulous clouds, that 
 have rolled up from the Californian Gulf — por- 
 tent of an approaching rain-storm. 
 
 The savages have gone to rest ; or, at all 
 events, brought their noisy revelry to an end, 
 and silence reigns everywhere around, save 
 now and then a snort from a miner's horse, or 
 mule, with a stamp of hoof, uneasy in their new 
 companionship ; the half howl, half bark of 
 prowling coyote, and the wailing of Chuck- 
 will's-widow — the nightjar of Sonora — hawk- 
 ing for insects high over the lake. But no 
 
 12} 
 
124 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 sound of human voice is heard, nor through the 
 inky blackness can be seen form of man. 
 
 Yet not all are asleep, either above or below. 
 On the plain is a line of sentries, set at dis- 
 tances apart on the outer edge of the triangular 
 space where the path goes up ; and inside this, 
 by the bottom of the gorge itself, two other 
 men, though not on sentinel duty. 
 
 All Indians, of course ; one of the pair by 
 themselves being El Cascabel, the other a sub- 
 chief, his second in command. They are there 
 on reconnoitring purposes, to discover whether 
 it be possible for the besiegers to make the 
 ascent on a dark night unseen, and so take the 
 besieged by surprise. 
 
 Since settling down in camp the Rattlesnake 
 has reflected, and a thought is now in his mind 
 making him uneasy. Not regret for having to 
 forego his raid on the settlements of the Hor- 
 casitas. Unlikely that the siege would take up 
 any more time, and the booty alone should be 
 ample compensation. For he has made study 
 of the abandoned camp, found every indica- 
 
A RETRIBUTIVE SHOT 
 
 tion of wealth, and feels sure it late held rich 
 treasures. They would reward him for the time 
 lost in beleaguering. And as to the revenge, 
 a whole company of miners — nigh a hundred at 
 least — with their wives and daughters, grand 
 senoras among them too — death to the men, 
 and captivity to the women — that should satisfy 
 the keenest vengeance. 
 
 And perhaps it would his, were he sure of 
 accomplishing it. He was before the sun went 
 down, but is not now. For, since, he has thought 
 of that which had not then occurred to him or 
 to any of his following. Might not the miners 
 have sent off a courier back to their own 
 country, with a demand for help ? If so, it 
 would surely come ; in strength sufficient, and 
 soon enough to raise the siege. For the head 
 men of the besieging force now know it will be 
 a prolonged one. The fragments of provisions 
 found in the wagons tell of a good store taken 
 out of them and up. Game is there in abun- 
 dance to supplement it, and water never-failing 
 — a fortress in every way supplied. Xot so 
 
126 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 strange, then, the Coyotero chief being nervous 
 at the thought of a courier having been 
 dispatched. For one might, without having 
 been seen by him or his. A long distance it 
 was from where they themselves must have 
 been first sighted by those on the mountain. 
 
 But for the obscurity, there are those on it 
 who would see himself and his second now. 
 By the head of the gorge above a party of 
 miners keep guard. They have just come on 
 duty, the relief after a spell of sleep. For Don 
 Estevan, by old experience, knowing there was 
 no danger of Indian attack in the earlier hours, 
 had entrusted the guard-keeping of these to the 
 more common men. Between midnight and 
 morning is the time to " 'ware red-skin," and 
 the guard of this period, now commenced, has 
 been confided to a picked party, two of those 
 composing it being Pedro Vicente and his Jidus 
 achates, Henry Tresillian. 
 
 Guard it can scarce be called, being only a 
 small vidette-picket. For there is little fear — 
 scarce a thought— that the Indians will attempt 
 
A RETRIBUTIVE SHOT. 127 
 
 the ascent, at least not so soon, or without 
 gravely reflecting upon it. 
 
 " Perhaps never at all," says the gambusinOs 
 in confabulation with his fellow-watchers. 
 "And why should they? They must be well 
 aware of the chances against them. Besides, 
 having got us as fish in a net, they 're not 
 likely to leap into the water themselves, where 
 they know there are tiburones (sharks)." 
 
 Vicente has had a spell at pearl-diving in the 
 Gulf, hence his simile drawn from the sea. 
 
 "Ay, tintoreros — these," he adds, specifying 
 the most dreaded of the squaline tribe, with 
 hand caressingly rested on one of the large 
 stones alongside which he is King. " I only 
 wish the)- would try it, the Rattlesnake leading. 
 'T would give me just the opportunity I want 
 to pay that artist off for the bit of bad engraving 
 he did on my breast — by hurling one of these 
 beauties at his head. Malraya ! I may never 
 have the chance to settle that score — not likely 
 now." 
 
 The final words, uttered in a tone of ar 
 
128 THE LOST MOUN'IAIN. 
 
 disappointed vengeance, are followed by an 
 interval of silence. For the new videttes, 
 having just entered on their duty, deem it 
 wise, before aught else, to make themselves 
 acquainted with how matters are below. They 
 are all in recumbent attitude, ventre a terrc, 
 behind the parapet of loose stones. For having 
 witnessed that long - range practice with the 
 " Queen Amies," it occurs to them that a big 
 bullet may at any moment come whizzing up 
 the gorge, and just as well be out of its way. 
 So elevating but their eyes over, they look 
 cautiously down. To see nothing — not even 
 the plain, nor yet the lake ; to hear nothing 
 which proceeds from human kind ; but they 
 know the savages are on the alert, with sentries 
 aliened below, and for a time continue to listen. 
 At length, satisfied there is nothing which 
 calls for their vigilance being kept on the 
 strain, Vicente draws out his cajoncito of corn- 
 husk cigarittos, lights one, and sets to smoking. 
 His comrades of the watch do likewise; and 
 the English youth, long since initiated into the 
 
A RETRIBUTIVE SHOT. 129 
 
 ways of the country, smokes too, only his weed 
 is a Havannah. 
 
 Not many minutes are they thus occupied 
 when the gambusiiw, chancing to turn his eyes 
 south-westward, sees what makes him spit the 
 cigaritto from his mouth, and gaze intently. 
 The object is up in the sky ; a slight rift just 
 opened in the bank of cloud, edged yellowish- 
 white. The moon must be near it — is near it, 
 and now in it ! for while they are still regarding 
 the blue spot, she shoots suddenly out from the 
 black, as arrow frcm bow. 
 
 Instantly night's darkness is turned into light 
 as of day ; every object on the llano, even the 
 smallest, made visible for miles upon miles, up 
 to the horizon's verge. But their eyes go not 
 so far, least of all those of Pedro Vicente, who 
 at the first flash from the unveiled moon catches 
 sight of that which arrests his straying glances, 
 fixing them fast. Not the line of sentries, 
 though he sees them too ; but a pair of figures 
 inside and closer, up nigh the point where the 
 path steps upon the plain. One of them, 
 
 Q 
 
130 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 recognized, rivets his gaze by a token of iden- 
 tification unmistakable — a death's head in 
 white chalk, which, with the moon full upon 
 it, gleams conspicuous against a background 
 of bronze. 
 
 " Carria! El Cascabel ! " he mechanically 
 mutters, in tone of exultation ; and without 
 saying another word, or waiting another second, 
 brings his rifle to shoulder, the stock to his 
 cheek, with muzzle deep depressed. 
 
 A blaze — a crack — and the bullet is sped. 
 A cry of agony from below — another of anger 
 in voice different — proclaims its course true, 
 and that the mark aimed at has been hit. 
 
 He who fired the shot knows that, by sight 
 as well as sound. For he sees — all see — a man 
 reeling, staggering, about to fall, and another 
 with arms outstretched, as if partly in surprise, 
 partly with intent to support him. 
 
 Only for an instant is the spectacle under 
 their eyes. For suddenly as she showed her- 
 self, the moon disappears with a plunge into 
 the opaque clouds, leaving all dark as before. 
 
THE GA1 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 THE "DEATH fandango." 
 
 "You think you've killed him?" 
 
 It is Don Estevan who interrogates, startled 
 out of his slumber by the report of the gam- 
 businds gun, which has brought him in hurried 
 haste to the post of guard. 
 
 " Pretty sure of it, your worship," is the 
 rejoinder, in calm confidence. 
 
 " We all saw him staggering — he must have 
 gone down," says another of the videttes, con- 
 firmingly. 
 
 "If I haven't settled his hash," pursues 
 Vicente, "then a man may get a bullet through 
 midribs, and live afterwards — a thing not likely. 
 Or I 'm much mistaken, mine went straight 
 centreways into the white — that sweet thing 
 
 131 9—2 
 
132 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 I Ve such reason to remember — unluckily for 
 him painted too conspicuously." 
 
 "It must have been El Cascabel, if you saw 
 that." 
 
 " He it was, or I shouldn't have been so 
 quick on the trigger. Indeed, I wasn't so 
 confident about the carry of my piece. 'T was 
 a long shot." 
 
 " The bullet may have hit without killing 
 him — spent, and only stunned him ? " 
 
 "If your worship feels inclined for a bet, 
 I '11 lay big odds that ere this the Rattlesnake 
 has kicked his last kick, or, to put it more 
 appropriately, wriggled his last wriggle." 
 
 The auditory gathered around the gam- 
 busino would laugh at his quaint words, but ere 
 they give way to the inclination it is checked 
 by other words quick following in exclamatory 
 tones, 
 
 " Bet 's off, your worship — too late ! I 'm not 
 the man to dishonour myself by wagering on 
 a certainty. Oigate! you hear that?" 
 
 Don Estevan does hear, as the others, sounds 
 
THE "DEATH FANDANGO." 133 
 
 ascending from below — human voices, in that 
 
 melancholy cadence which tells of lamentation 
 for the dead. They come from the direction 
 of the camp, in a wild crooning wail, now and 
 then a stave, as if coyotes were taking part in 
 the lugubrious chorus. At intervals, also, there 
 are other notes, differently intoned ; loud angry 
 ejaculations, the Apache war-cry, proclaiming 
 vengeance only to be satisfied with blood for 
 blood. 
 
 For nearly an hour the infernal fracas is 
 kept up, the volume of voice continuous, and 
 redoubled by reverberation along the cliffs. 
 Then it is abruptly brought to a close, suc- 
 ceeded by a silence mysterious and ominous 
 in itself. Can it be that in their insane anger 
 the savages have resolved upon the ascent, 
 coute-qai-cotUc ? The darkness, dense as ever, 
 would favour, and might tempt them. 
 
 There is enough probability in it to make the 
 videttes more vigilant, and their numbers are 
 now greater. After an event of such serious 
 consequence, most of the people — women and 
 
134 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 children excepted — are up and active, moving 
 backwards and forwards between their place of 
 bivouac by the spring and the ravine's head, 
 all careful not to approach this point too near. 
 The big muskets admonish them ; though as 
 yet no shot from one, nor from any other sort 
 of piece, has been fired by the savages. If 
 they mean assault, it will be by stealth, and in 
 silence. 
 
 Hushed, and listening with all ears, the 
 watchers hear nothing ; at least, no sound of 
 a suspicious nature. But Indians can creep, or 
 climb, noiselessly as cats — the Coyoteros espe- 
 cially — in this respect equalling the animal 
 from which they have their name. And they 
 may be worming their way up for all, snake-like 
 among the stems of the mcsquites and cactus 
 plants. 
 
 " Speaking for myself," says the gambusino, 
 after a time, " I haven't much fear of them 
 trying that trick. But if you think it worth 
 while, camarados, to give them a hint — and 
 perhaps it may be as well — we can spare a few 
 
THE "DEATH FANDANGO." 135 
 
 of these pebbles." He points to the collected 
 stones. " Half a dozen or so will do it. " 
 
 His camarados comprehend his meaning; 
 and as Don Estevan has returned to his tent 
 leaving him in command of the picket, they 
 signify their approval of his design, all desiring 
 it. 
 
 On the instant after, a rock pushed over the 
 edge goes crashing down, breaking off branches, 
 loosening other stones in its way. all in loud 
 rumbling borne together to the level below. 
 But they elicit no response, save the echo of 
 their own noise, no shriek or cry, as if man 
 were caught and bruised by them. 
 
 After a time another is launched, with like 
 result, then another and another at measured 
 intervals — for they must husband their ammu- 
 nition — the watchers all the while without fear 
 that man, red or white, will face such an ava- 
 lanche, dangerous as any that ever swept down 
 the slope of Alps. 
 
 At the earliest dawn they desist as soon as 
 they can trust to their cy^s. And now, 
 
1.3G THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 scanning- the plain below, they see at the 
 bottom of the gorge only the rocks they had 
 rolled down, with the other debris. Farther 
 out they perceive the line of dusky sentinels, 
 just as they expected it to be ; but no other 
 human form, living or dead. The Coyotero 
 chief is dead for all that — carried to the camp 
 of the pale-faces, inside the great tent, where 
 he now lies face upward ; the pale, crepusculous 
 light stealing in to show that hideous device on 
 his breast, symbol of death itself, no longer a 
 disc of white, but flaked and mottled red, with 
 a darker spot of ragged edging in the centre 
 where it was pierced by the gambusind s bullet. 
 
 Just as the sun begins to show above the 
 horizon's edge, again go up the crooning cries, 
 but now in more measured strain. For the 
 savages are collected in the corral, a choice 
 party of them under direction of their medicine 
 man ranged about the marquee, not standing 
 still, but circling round and round it in a slow, 
 
THE "DEATH FANDANi L37 
 
 saltatory step — in short, dancing the "death- 
 dance." 
 
 It is accompanied by chants and incantations, 
 in the voice of the medicine chief himself, 
 pitched louder than the rest, with a pause at 
 intervals, to speak eulogies of the deceased, 
 praise of his valour and virtues, ending in a 
 passionate appeal to his followers to avenge his 
 death. They need not the stimulus of such 
 exhortation. In the eyes of all vengeance is 
 already glowing, burning, and but flashes a 
 little angrier as they respond in a vociferous 
 and united yell. 
 
 They upon the mesa are not witnesses to 
 this odd ceremony, only a portion of the camp 
 being within their view. But ere long they 
 have another under their eyes — a spectacle 
 equally exciting, and of like grave portent to 
 themselves. 
 
 It takes place out on the open plain by the 
 lake's edge, upon a portion of the grass ground, 
 all visible from the ravine's head. The arena 
 is purposely chosen for the pale- faces to be 
 
138 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 spectators of it, that it may strike terror to their 
 souls, by giving them a foretaste of what is to 
 be their fate. For it is the "Fandango de 
 crancos" anglice, scalp-dance. 
 
 What they on the mountain first see is some 
 half-score of the savages issuing forth from the 
 corral and taking their way to the appointed 
 spot. They bear with them a long pole painted 
 blood-red, recognizable as one of the wagon- 
 tongues, drawn to a sharp point at its inner end. 
 In a trice it is stuck upright in the turf, showing 
 at its top something very different from the 
 chains late there. It is the skin of a human 
 head, with the hair hanging straggled down, 
 light-coloured hair proclaiming it that of a pale- 
 face. They could crown that pole with scores 
 of such scalps, many having their leggings 
 fringed with them. But for the rites of the 
 ceremony to be performed one is deemed suffi- 
 cient ; and to make it more terribly impressive, 
 the one selected shows by the silken gloss of 
 the hair with its luxuriance and lenoth to have 
 been taken from the head of a woman ! There 
 
THE "DEATH FANDANGO." 139 
 
 are women looking at it now, and young eirls of 
 different ages. For all have left the spring- and 
 come forward to the viewing-point. It is a 
 sight to inspire them with awe enough of itself, 
 without their being told of a certain and terrible 
 signification attached to the fact of a i^omaiis 
 scalp being fixed to the head of that pole instead 
 of a mans. Pedro Vicente could make it known 
 to them, but does not. 
 
 Ere lonsf the ceremonial of vengeful menace 
 commences, the Indians approaching the ensan- 
 guined stake and forming in wide cordon around 
 it ; all of them in full war-paint, a fresh coat of 
 it in their garish devices of various colours, 
 scarlet and blood-red predominating. But there 
 is one common to all, a symbol in white — the 
 same borne by him who is sleeping his last 
 sleep in the corral. They have but assumed it 
 for the occasion to do honour to their dead 
 chief. And a frightful form of demonstration it 
 is. Over two hundred men, mahogany-coloured 
 savages, all naked to the waist, each with a 
 death's head and crossboncs done in white gyp- 
 
140 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 sum on the central and prominent portion of 
 his breast ! 'T were enough to awe the heart of 
 any one within their reach or in their power, 
 and many of the spectators above tremble at 
 beholding the horrid insignia. 
 
 The dance begins, the savages in circle tramp- 
 ing round and round the pole " how-howing " 
 as they go, at first in slow step and with voice 
 barely audible. Soon, however, the one quick- 
 ens, the other becoming louder, till the step is 
 a violent bounding, the voice raised to highest 
 pitch. Louder and angrier grow the shouts as 
 they turn their eyes upward to the scalp, and 
 still more violent their gesticulations, arms in 
 air with weapons whirled above their heads, till 
 at length several rush at the reddened stake, 
 and hack it down with their tomahawks. Then 
 follows a confused struggle for the scalp, in 
 which it is torn to pieces, all who can appro- 
 priating shred or tress, but to spit upon it in 
 vindictive scorn, while still further rending it ! 
 
 The demoniac dance is now over ; some it 
 has most excited come rushing towards the 
 
THE "DEATH FANDANi 1 M 
 
 ravine, as though they really meant risking an 
 assault. All above draw back out of sight, only 
 they appointed for the defence staying by the 
 stone artillery. But they are not called upon to 
 hurl any more down just yet. Warned by the 
 event of overnight, the savages think better of 
 it, and before getting too close, come to a stop, 
 and content themselves with wordy threats and 
 a brandishing of weapons. 
 
 But, empty and impotent as is their menacing 
 attitude, it makes deep impression on those 
 against whom it is directed. For it tells them 
 they may never more go down that gorge, or 
 set foot upon the plain below, to live an hour, if 
 a minute, after. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NOT LOST YET. 
 
 In the great desert land of Apacheria there 
 are Coyoteros and Coyoteros ; some, abject 
 miserable creatures among the lowest forms of 
 humanity; others, men of fine port, courage, and 
 strength — true Indian warriors. Of these is 
 the band of El Cascabel, noted for its frequent 
 hostile expeditions to the settlements of Sonora, 
 as that on which it was bent when brought up 
 by the Lost Mountain. So unexpectedly de- 
 prived of its chief, will it continue on that 
 expedition ? or lay siege to the party of travel- 
 ling miners as he intended doing ? A question 
 asked the miners themselves of one another, but 
 not after witnessing the scalp-dance. Then 
 knew they for sure that the siege was to be 
 
 14.2 
 
NOT LOST YET. II I 
 
 carried out. As further evidence of it, that 
 very afternoon the mules and horses of the 
 caravan are collected into droves, tied head to 
 tail, and conducted away from the ground alto- 
 gether by a number of Indians placed in charge 
 of them — evidently that there should not be 
 too many mouths on the pastures around the 
 camp, which, though good, are but of limited 
 extent. Only some of the inferior animals, 
 with the beeves, are allowed to remain as 
 provision for the besiegers. 
 
 The miners above have meanwhile been busy 
 getting matters regulated in their new camp, or 
 bivouac, soon as convinced that the enemy did 
 not intend assault. All repair thither, only a 
 limited number of videttes keeping post by the 
 gorge. Around the ojo dc agua is witnessed a 
 scene of curious interest. To the two tents set 
 up on the day before are being added sheds 
 and arbour-like huts, with such haste that ere 
 night all are completed, for the cloud of the 
 
1 I 1 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 night before, portending rain, still covers the 
 western sky, though not a drop has yet fallen. 
 
 Just as the last of daylight glimmers over 
 the plain a very drown and downpour, as if to 
 make up for its long absence. The sky is all 
 clouded now, but with clouds at short intervals 
 riven by forking spears of lightning, while the 
 accompanying thunder is almost continuous. 
 
 Under the yellow light the lake glistens as if 
 it was molten gold, while the rebound upwards 
 from the heavy drops shows something like a 
 golden spray hanging all over it. On beyond 
 the out-going stream, late but a tiny rivulet, has 
 changed to a foaming torrent, madly breaking 
 its way across the plain ; while the in-going rill 
 from the mcssas summit has become a series of 
 cascades and cataracts. 
 
 The Indians, fearing a stampede by their 
 horses, draw them in from their picket pins, 
 hobble, and make them fast round the wheels of 
 the wagons, but they are still more solicitous 
 about the fine caballada captured and sent 
 away ; for nearly every one of these, with all 
 
NOT L0S1 YET. 145 
 
 the mules, has a pack saddle on its back with 
 the distributed dry goods, and other desirable 
 articles not taken up the messa. In short, if 
 that pack drove be lost, they may not have 
 much to reward them for the season's raid. 
 They might have sent the wagons along, but 
 aware of the use to which these are often put 
 by the pale-faces, as sleeping-tents, are noting 
 the approach of the storm, and determine to 
 utilize them in similar fashion. That night at 
 least they would need them, and it might be 
 many more. 
 
 So, as the rain falls, lightning flashes, and 
 thunder rolls, there is a close-packed crowd 
 under the tilt of each, with the big tent full to 
 its entrance- flap ; and still there is not space 
 enough to shield all from that torrent of the 
 sky, a large number retreating under ledges of 
 the cliffs that overhang near by. 
 
 The miners are all under shelter ; they, too, 
 sure of the approaching storm, having worked 
 hard during the later hours of the day. The 
 messa gave them material for wall and roof. 
 
 10 
 
116 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Posts from the indigenous trees with scantling 
 poles cut from saplings of many kinds, and a 
 thatch of cycas and other grasslike plants, which 
 abounded on the summit. Men accustomed as 
 they to handling ropes and gearing, were not 
 long in running up a house sufficient for shelter, 
 and now every such domicile is filled to its 
 door-jambs ; men, women, and children mingled 
 together, some standing, some seated on the 
 bundles of goods that, but for their being inside, 
 would have been lost. They had thought of 
 that too. 
 
 Up to a certain hour the people of quality 
 are all inside one tent, which shows bright from 
 a light burning inside it : their conversation 
 is, of course, about the circumstances which 
 surround them. Who, then, could talk of any 
 other ? Don Estevan believes that the killing 
 of the Rattlesnake may be a disadvantage to 
 them rather than otherwise, making the ven- 
 geance of his followers more implacable than 
 at least it should do. But he has yet another 
 reason for so believing. In his own military 
 
NOT LOST YET. 117 
 
 expeditions he had become acquainted with 
 El Cascabel's second in command, a sub-chief, 
 equalling the others in hostility to the whites, 
 while far excelling him in ability. 
 
 But it is too soon yet to discuss such chances. 
 Rest was the one thing- needed ; and at the 
 usual hour for retiring, all, save those detailed 
 for picket-guard, seek repose. 
 
 Just as on the previous night the less ex- 
 perienced stand the first watches of the night, 
 keeping the rain off with waterproof scrapes ; 
 only at intervals need they look down, and 
 then, unlike as on the night before, every- 
 thing is seen as under a meridian sun, for it is 
 while the lightning gleams they make their 
 intermittent examination of the gorge path, 
 cascading stream, trees, and rocks illuminated 
 by it as by a thousand torches ; only towards 
 morning do their blazes become less frequent, 
 gradually dying out as the rain ceases to fall. 
 Henry Tresillian is again on watch duty, having 
 insisted upon it, notwithstanding the opposition 
 made by the others of his party. But he has a 
 
 10— 2 
 
118 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 reason they do not understand — indeed, he has 
 not communicated it to them; during the earlier 
 hours of the night he fancied having observed 
 a dark object far off on the plain, seemingly in 
 the shape of a horse ; but returning several times 
 to look, afterwards he could not see it again. 
 Now, on the post midnight watch, at each blaze 
 he runs his eye around the spot where he 
 fancied the dark object to have been, only in 
 the very last one to see it again, and make sure 
 it was a horse ; but his ears tell him more than 
 his eyes, for in the dark spell succeeding the 
 silence of the elements restored he several times 
 hears a neigh, which he recognizes as that of 
 his own horse, Crusader. 
 
 And when the day at length dawns he sees 
 the noble animal itself only a short distance 
 beyond the lower end of the lake, with head 
 upraised and muzzle pointed up the gorge, as 
 though in a morning salute to himself. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AN UNLOOKED-FOR ENEMY. 
 
 A thrill of delight sweeps through the 
 heart of the English youth at beholding Cru- 
 sader in this attitude, as if the horse said, "You 
 see, I 've not forsaken you." Satisfaction also 
 to think the animal capable of making its own 
 way, and finding sustenance in those wilds ; for 
 should it ever be their fate to escape from that 
 mountain, there might be a hope of horse and 
 master coming together again. But there 
 is fear commingled with these feelings, this 
 causing the eyes of Henry Tresillian to turn 
 with quick glance towards the left, where a 
 small portion of the camp of the Indians is 
 visible outside the Hanking battlements of rock ; 
 every moment he expects to see issue from it a 
 
 149 
 
150 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 band of dusky horsemen in start for a new 
 pursuit of his favourite. 
 
 Crusader seems to have some anticipation of 
 the same ; he stands restlessly, now glancing up 
 the chine, anon at the corraled wagons with 
 hundreds of horses around them. These he 
 regards suspiciously, being the same with which 
 he had already declined to associate ; perhaps 
 he may be wondering where are the other 
 horses, his companions of the caravan? Whether 
 or no, he hesitates to approach nearer to the old 
 camping-ground, steadfastly keeping his place. 
 Where he stands he is so nigh his former 
 master that the latter might without any diffi- 
 culty make himself heard, and at first the 
 English youth had it on the tip of his tongue 
 to call out a friendly greeting, but quick reflec- 
 tion showed him its imprudence. The very 
 worst thing he could do for the horse's sake. 
 Crusader would be sure to recognize his voice 
 and respond with a neigh, which would awake 
 a chorus of yells in the Coyotcros' camp, and 
 at once set the savages on the alert. 
 
AN UNLOOKED-FOR ENEMY. L51 
 
 For the last half-hour or more the black horse 
 had been quiet, and there were several reasons 
 against his being seen. He was upon the oppo- 
 site, or western edge of the stream, which had 
 a fringing of reeds and bushes, broken in places, 
 but here and there continuous for yards, and 
 behind one of these clumps he had come to a 
 stand ; even in bright day, as it now nearly is, 
 he would there be invisible to the occupants of 
 the captured camp. 
 
 But if only to water their horses, the Indians 
 will soon be dashing down to the lake, and then 
 all chance of his remaining longer unobserved 
 will be at an end. 
 
 With gaze more riveted on the horse than 
 ever, for there is something strange in his be- 
 haviour, Henry Tresillian watches him with 
 wondering eyes, his heart audibly pulsating. 
 What if they should again get him in a ring, 
 and this time display more adroitness in hurling 
 their laryettes ? Crusader might not be so 
 clever on every occasion. 
 
 While thus speculating on the result, a noise 
 
152 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 reaches the ears of the. English youth, as also 
 of others on vidette post, which causes an 
 instant and sudden turning of their eyes in the 
 opposite direction. Many voices, indeed, all 
 loud and all in excited tone. Voices of men, 
 shrieks of women, and cries of terrified children, 
 all coming from one place, their new camp by 
 the spring. 
 
 The videttes stay not on their post an instant 
 longer, but forsaking it, rush towards ojo de 
 agaa. Sounds inexplicable, mysterious ! What 
 can be causing them ? The only suggestion 
 attempted is, that the Indians after all may have 
 contrived to ascend the messa by some secret 
 path known only to themselves, and are in the 
 act of attacking from the rear. What other 
 enemy could cause such a scare ? Every voice 
 in the miners' party is seemingly convulsed with 
 affright. 
 
 The young Englishman dashes on ahead, 
 tearing through branches, and bounding over 
 trunks of prostrate trees. Vicente, who had 
 brought the watch with him, is close behind, 
 
AN UNLOOKED-FOR ENEMY. 153 
 
 though he has not such stimulus to haste, for 
 amidst the fracas of noises, Henry Tresillian 
 hears a sweet voice calling out his own name 
 in a tone of appeal. 
 
 Not till they come to the very edge of the 
 glade do they discover the cause of all these 
 wild demonstrations, though something seen an 
 instant or two earlier leads Vicente to con- 
 jecture it. Men, but chiefly boys and girls, 
 standing on the branches of trees high as they 
 can climb, as though there to behold some 
 passing spectacle. 
 
 " El or so ! — the grizzly ! " 
 
 "It must be that.'' says Vicente, pressing on. 
 
 And so it proves. As the videttes so mys- 
 teriously summoned in see on getting to the 
 nearer end of the glade which surrounds the 
 spring, at its farther one are two gigantic 
 animals, one a quadruped, the other to all ap- 
 pearances a biped. For all, both are four-footed 
 creatures, and the most dangerous to be en- 
 countered in all the desert lands of America. 
 So utterly are they regardless of the odds 
 
154 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 against them that they would advance to the 
 attack of horse or man, even were there twenty 
 of these together, and have been known to 
 come shuffling into a well-appointed camp, and 
 make a grand havoc, ere means may be taken 
 to destroy or eject them. 
 
 The Indian tiger or the African lion are not 
 more to be dreaded in their jungles than is the 
 ursus ferox in the districts it specially affects. 
 
 Strange that the pair at the inner end of the 
 glade had not yet shown signs of any determin- 
 ation to assail the camp ; indeed, they seem to 
 be amusing themselves at the stir their presence 
 has created, or rather as if making amusement 
 for the surprised people. He, upon his hams, 
 for it is the male who has so erected himself, 
 is playing his fore-paws about, as if engaged in 
 an act of prestidigitation ; while his mate, at 
 intervals also rearing up, seems to be playing 
 the part of juggler's assistant, the whole spec- 
 tacle being - comical in the extreme. The tragical 
 part of it had not yet commenced, and for two 
 reasons. 
 
AN UNLOOKED-FOR ENEMY. 158 
 
 First, that the grizzly bear seldom makes 
 instant attack, appearing to enter on the field 
 of battle more by accident than from any pre- 
 determined hostile resolve. Only after sham- 
 mering about a while, and at intervals uttering a 
 snort till their passions get the better of them, 
 and then woe to man or horse that comes within 
 the hug of their powerful fore-paws ! With its 
 enormous curving claws, many inches in length, 
 a grizzly bear has been known to drag the 
 largest ox or horse to the ground, as a terrier 
 would a rabbit. 
 
 Henry Tresillian looks only to the two canvas 
 tents to see the seiiora inside one, her face 
 visible through the opening, while Gertrude is 
 still without by the side of her own father and 
 his. The young girl appears behaving herself 
 more bravely than any of the older people 
 around. She is inspired with fresh courage at 
 the sight of the English youth bounding 
 towards her, gun in hand. 
 
 By this time others have got out their guns, 
 and a party led by the mayor-domo is advancing 
 
156 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 to fire on the bears. The gambusino, hitherto 
 not having observed this party, now sees it, 
 noting its intention. He would frustrate it, and 
 makes the attempt, shouting in loudest voice, 
 " For your lives, don't draw trigger upon them. 
 They may go without " 
 
 Too late ; his after-words were drowned by 
 the report of the steward's great gun, and the 
 male bear came down on all fours, evidently hit, 
 but as evidently little harmed, his active motions 
 afterwards telling of a wound he no more re- 
 garded than the scratch of a pin. It perhaps 
 only tickled him, and his biting at the place 
 might be but to take the itch out. It angered 
 him, though, to the highest pitch, for again 
 rising on his hind-legs he swung his head about, 
 snorting continuously, with an occasional scream 
 which bespoke either pain or vengeance. 
 
 There was no sign of intention to retreat on the 
 part of either male or female, for they seemed 
 to act in concert and with mutual understanding, 
 this, in the moment after, impelling them to 
 forsake their stationary spot and come rushing 
 
AN UNLOOKED-FOR ENEMY. 15T 
 
 on towards the tents and booth ies. S ho win:/ 
 motion quick enough now, they are soon in 
 their midst, the female instantly after seizing a 
 boy who in fright had fallen from one of the 
 branches directly in front of her, and killing the 
 poor lad by a single stroke of her powerful 
 fore-paw. He is not unavenged : before she 
 has time to seek for a second victim the men 
 with guns gather around her, and regardless of 
 danger, for their blood is now up, go so close 
 that some of their muzzles become buried in 
 her long shaggy fur. Then the cracks of eight 
 or ten guns ring out almost simultaneously, and 
 the she-grizzly comes to ground. 
 
 But the male, the more formidable of the 
 two, is still afoot, and where are the eight or ten 
 guns to give him his coup de grace f Only four 
 loaded ones are seen in hand, the majority of 
 the people who have been able to arm them- 
 selves, in their haste, not much over a dozen, 
 having instinctively rushed towards the beat- 
 that was attacking the lad. But now the other, 
 having passed that spot, is making for one to be 
 
158 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 defended by the four guns in question, that tent 
 inside which are the Senora Villanueva and 
 her daughter. No need to say that the de- 
 fenders are Don Estevan, Robert Tresillian, his 
 son Henry, and the gambusino. A formidable 
 defence, nevertheless, since, in addition to their 
 guns, they carry knives and pistols, the last 
 double-loaded. 
 
 They have thrown cloaks and other dark 
 cloths over the tents to make them less con- 
 spicuous, but the bear seems imbued by a 
 vindictive determination to attack in that very 
 quarter, and straight towards them comes he. 
 
 " Let nie fire first, sefiores," claims Vicente, 
 " and low from my knee my bullets may turn 
 him side-ways, and if so, then your chance, 
 pour in your broadside, aim just behind the 
 shoulder, half-way down." 
 
 Saying which the gambusino drops on one 
 knee, bringing his gun to his shoulder not an 
 instant too soon, for the huge monster is now 
 within ten feet of him. The sharp but full 
 report, with a tuft of hair seen starting off the 
 
1 'I Mil (.1 1 Hi: GKI//1 ! 
 
AN UNLOOKED-FOR ENEMY. 159 
 
 bear's right neck well back on the shoulder, 
 tells that the animal has been hit there, just as 
 Vicente had intended it, his design being for the 
 others to get flanking shots, which they do, 
 one and all, the bear instantly slewing round as 
 before to bite the wounded spot. This brought 
 his left shoulder to front well spread out, and 
 making the best of marks, into which was simul- 
 taneously poured the contents of four barrels 
 with twice as many bullets, hitting so close to- 
 gether as to make an ensanguined irregular disc 
 about the size of a man's hand. No pistols nor 
 knives were needed, no supplementary weapons 
 of any kind, the bear breathing his last ere the 
 reports of the guns had ceased reverberating 
 along the cliffs. 
 
 «&^^^*> g 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CRUSADER CHASED AGAIN. 
 
 The scene, all action and excitement, has 
 nevertheless occupied but a brief space of time : 
 scarce two minutes since the grizzly bears first 
 showed themselves on the edge of the glade 
 till both lie dead within it — victims of their own 
 ferocity. 
 
 It might have been very different, and under 
 like circumstances nearly always is. Many 
 cases are recorded in which half a score of camp 
 travellers have succumbed to the insane ra^e of 
 a single grizzly. Fortunate, too, had been the 
 miners in their shots — no doubt due to the short 
 range at which they were fired — for the thick, 
 tough skin of this animal is almost ball-proof, 
 
 and one has been known to bear off a dozen 
 
 1 60 
 
CRUSADER CHASED AGAIN. 161 
 
 bullets in its body, and carry them about with it 
 afterwards. 
 
 The very openness of their danger, with no 
 prospect of escaping it, had lent to the miners 
 the courage of despair, and so made them more 
 fearless in their attack ; otherwise they would 
 have fired at the enemy without approaching so 
 near, perhaps to fail. Enough damage has been 
 done notwithstanding, and a cry of lamentation 
 succeeds the shots, and general shouting, as the 
 women gather around the body of that single 
 victim to the fury of the bears. Frightfully 
 mutilated it is, showing parallel tears over the 
 breast — the tracks of claws, all running blood, 
 and a huge gash by the throat where the first 
 stroke had been given. 
 
 " Esta Pablito Rojas /" cries a voice, identi- 
 fying the lad, others adding in sympathetic 
 chorus, " Pobrei pobrc-ccti ! ' ' 
 
 There is one who takes no part in these 
 demonstrations — Henry Tresillkm. He is in 
 f.ict no longer in the camp, for soon as the 
 second grizzly had been disposed of, he started 
 
 ii 
 
1G2 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 back for the vidette post, and so abruptly as 
 to make all wonder who were observing him. 
 Among- the rest Gertrude herself, who thought 
 it strange he should not stay to speak some 
 words of congratulation. He but muttered one 
 or two, with the name of his horse, well known 
 to her, and was off. 
 
 Now, from his former point of view, he again 
 beholds Crusader standing just as left, and still 
 to all appearance unmolested. It is more than 
 he expected, but there may be reasons : possibly 
 the shouts and fusillade above have for a time 
 drawn the attention of the Indians in that direc- 
 tion. This will not be for long, and Crusader's 
 master but counts the moments till he see him 
 assailed and chased. 
 
 Nor are they many. Just after his return to 
 the ravine's head he observes nigh threescore 
 dusky horsemen move out beyond the flanking 
 embattlement of rock ; not hastily, nor in con- 
 fusion, but in deliberate and long deployed line, 
 which stretches afar over the llano. 
 
 Crusader sees them too, and seems to regard 
 
CRV8ADER CHASED AGAIN. 163 
 
 them with indifference ; he has taken to brows- 
 ing on a piece of rich pasture lying along the 
 stream's edge, this alone for the time occupying 
 him. That he is the objective point of their 
 movement is evident, though none of them are 
 heading straight towards him, their design being 
 evidently to get around him. 
 
 After all, is he going to let himself be sur- 
 rounded, and approached in this easy manner ? 
 Such is the interrogatory which passes among 
 those watching from above, for the videttes 
 have returned to their post, with others accom- 
 panying them. 
 
 One answers it, saying, "It's not at all likely. 
 He let himself be taken in a trap! More like 
 the red-skins will find themselves in one before 
 long. See ! they begin to find it now ! " 
 
 This, from Pedro Vicente in his old spirit, as 
 he points to the line of savages far extended. 
 
 The files have by this faced westward, but 
 are advancing towards the stream ; now, on 
 Hearing it, they are seen to stop abruptly as if 
 in surprise. Then, after an instant, all wheel 
 
 1 1 — 2 
 
1G4 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 round and ride back eastward, till getting on 
 their old line, they return at a gallop towards 
 their camp. They have discovered the stream 
 to be impassable. 
 
 " That horse is the demonio himself," says 
 Pedro Vicente — "neither more nor less. He 
 must have known they could not cross the 
 swollen streamlet, or he'd never have stopped 
 by it as he has done. But they've not given 
 him up yet. No! see: they're going round 
 by the head of the lake." 
 
 Just this they intend, as is seen by their 
 advancing towards the point where the lake 
 commences by the mouth of the ravine. They 
 have no difficulty in crossing its in-going 
 stream, a few minutes after the rain ceased 
 having reduced this to its normal condition of 
 a tiny rivulet. 
 
 And like some dark, disagreeable vision 
 Henry Tresillian sees pass before his eyes the 
 savage cohort, file after file, one disappearing 
 after another, till at length no animated form 
 is observable on the plain below, save that 
 
CRUSADER CHASED AGAIN. 1G5 
 
 their eyes have been hitherto regarding with 
 
 interest. 
 
 There is a long interval without event ; 
 nearly an hour elapses ere Crusader shows 
 any sign, his head almost continuously to the 
 grass, raised only occasionally, as he changes 
 place upon it. All this time the Indians are 
 out of sight, with no sound coming from the 
 direction they had taken. 
 
 But at length there is a sound, a startled 
 neigh from the black horse, who, tossing his 
 crest in air, rears upward with a curving 
 sweep, and then darts straight away, as if 
 in flight from an advancing enemy — the 
 enemy seen instantly afterwards as several 
 mounted men disclose themselves from the 
 western framework of rock, all in a tail-on-end 
 gallop. 
 
 Crusader has taken alonq- the edcfe of the 
 stream, and follows it in parallel direction 
 downwards, just as he fled before from the 
 same pursuers. There would seem no chance 
 of their overtaking him now ; for he appears 
 
166 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 to gain distance at every bound, without even 
 straining himself. But lo! what is that? 
 
 " Santos Dios ! They Ve headed him. Mil- 
 raya ! what a pity ! " 
 
 It is the gamhisino who thus exclaims, seeing 
 other horsemen on the plain farther points on, 
 all facing towards the stream, evidently to in- 
 intercept the chased steed. 
 
 Crusader sees them too, for he is now close 
 up to them ; but forsaking the course he has 
 hitherto followed, he makes an abrupt turn and 
 breaks off westward, continuing this direction 
 in full gallop, till the rocks hide him from view. 
 
 Alike the pursuers thrown round, pass out of 
 sight one after another, and again that part of 
 the llano resumes its wonted aspect of stern, 
 savage tranquillity. 
 
 For most of those composing the party of 
 spectators the chase had no particular interest, 
 and only a few of them were gathered around 
 the point where it could be viewed. Indeed, 
 but a few heard of Crusader being seen, the 
 q;reater and more serious event obscuring that 
 
CRUSADER CHASED AGAIN. 1G7 
 
 of lesser note. And now these few, one after 
 the other, again go back to ojo de agua, to take 
 part in the duties of the day. 
 
 But the English youth still stays by the 
 
 vidette post, with eye constantly directed on the 
 plain below, and ears listening intently, to catch 
 any sound that may come from the western side; 
 apprehensively, too, for he fears to hear shots. 
 
 The savages failing to catch the black horse 
 with their laryettes, may spitefully endeavour to 
 bring him down with their guns. This, indeed, 
 is the real danger his young master has been 
 dreading, and which for the time engrosses all 
 his thoughts. 
 
 Luckily not for long. Within less than an 
 hour the dusky horsemen, in twos and threes, 
 come straggling back across the open ground 
 between the lake's head and their camp, so 
 continuing till the last of them have returned, 
 all with discomfited air, but none with Crusader 
 as their captive. And as no report of gun has 
 been heard, it is more than probable he has 
 once more eluded them. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 LIFE ON THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 The exciting events above recorded, as 
 occurring in quick succession, are followed by 
 a period of repose lasting for days. Alike 
 reigns it on the mountain summit and around 
 its base ; in the camp of the besieged as of the 
 besiegers. 
 
 Withal, in the latter there is no lack of ac- 
 tivity ; parties go and come at all hours, but 
 more especially during those of the night. 
 Scouts sent out ; it may be for many purposes. 
 But one large detail is observed on a certain 
 day to make the complete round of the moun- 
 tain, every here and there halting with front 
 towards it, as if for minute examination of its 
 cliffs from base to summit; evidently to be 
 satisfied whether there be any possible chance 
 
 1 63 
 
LIFE ON TILE LOST MOUNTAIN. 109 
 
 for the white men to reach the plain otherwise 
 than down that chine cut by the watercourse. 
 
 While making this reconnaisance they have 
 been narrowly watched by eyes from above, 
 and as no particular point has been observed 
 to attract their attention, it is concluded that 
 they deem their pale-faced prisoners quite 
 secure, only calling for a little patience ere 
 they may evidently lay hands on them. 
 
 The same movement also gives assurance to 
 their intended victims, but of a kind not so 
 satisfactory. It tells them how determined 
 their enemy is, how retentive his grasp, and 
 implacable his vengeance. All this with no in- 
 creased hope on their part of being able to 
 escape him. Thought of how has not yet 
 taken shape in their minds. How could it ? 
 So many present facts and fears engrossing 
 them, they have found little time to reflect on 
 the future. 
 
 And a new fear has now arisen which calls 
 for steps to be taken. There may be other 
 grizzly bears on the mesa, and if so these 
 
170 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 monsters will be prowling around the camp 
 to assail it at any instant. Better they be 
 met outside at a distance off, there attacked, 
 and if possible exterminated. 
 
 This conclusion come to, Don Estevan gives 
 orders for all to arm, and a general battue is 
 made over the summit of the Cerro. Paths are 
 hacked through the underwood everywhere, 
 laying open many a spot never before trodden 
 by foot of man. Strange birds are flushed 
 from their nests, and strange animals are seen 
 stealing away through the thick tangle of 
 //iauas, chiefly of the reptilian order, as arma- 
 dillos, lizards, the curious horned frog (Agama 
 cornuta), and serpents — most numerous of all 
 that whose retreat is marked by the defiant 
 rattle which has given it its name. Scores of 
 cascabeUs are started out of the dead leaves and 
 branches, their vibratory "skirr" resounding 
 everywhere. 
 
 But quadrupeds turn up as well. At intervals 
 the crack of gun tells of one shot at, whether 
 killed or no. Now a wild sheep, now a prong- 
 
LIFE ON THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 171 
 
 horn antelope, or it may be but a hare or rabbit. 
 The great wolf is also found there, and his 
 lesser and more cowardly congener, the coyote ; 
 but no more bears — grizzly or other — nor sign 
 of them. Evidently the two killed at the camp 
 were the sole monarchs of the mountain. 
 
 The day's hunt, for it occupied a whole day, 
 gives satisfaction in more ways than one. 
 First, by doing away with all apprehension of 
 danger from Ursusferox; secondly, by affording 
 a plentiful supply of present food; and, thirdly, 
 in there being still more on the mountain, giving 
 proof of the abundance of them. 
 
 Nor is the vegetable element lacking, but 
 present in all its varieties of root, fruit, and 
 berry. The mczcal, whose baked stem forms 
 staple food for their enemies, grows on the 
 mesa. Its use is known to the gamlmsino, as 
 others of the miners. Several sorts of mezquite 
 trees are found there, whose long pendulous 
 siliqucs contain seeds which can be ground into 
 a meal making nutritious bread, while the cones 
 of the edible pine (Piuus edulis) — " piuon- 
 
172 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 nuts" as called — arc in quantity all around. 
 For fruit there are several varieties of the 
 cactus, with that of pear-shape, and all the rich 
 juiciness of a pear, the famed pitathaya. In 
 short, the Cerro Perdido is a very oasis, its 
 cornucopceia peculiar to the desert. With so 
 bountiful a supply of provisions the besieged 
 need not fear famine, at least for a long time. 
 Their resources, carefully husbanded, may last 
 for weeks. 
 
 And on time rests their only hope ; their 
 sole chance of being rescued depending on 
 that, by some means or other, their situation 
 may become known to their friends at Arispe, 
 or their countrymen elsewhere. 
 
 But what likelihood of this? As already 
 stated, the Lost Mountain is out of the line of 
 all travel and traffic. Months, a year, nay, 
 years may elapse ere a wayfarer of any kind 
 stray to it, or near it. So their chances of 
 being seen there by friendly eyes, to say naught 
 of their position being understood, are as those 
 of castaways on a desert isle in mid-ocean. 
 
LIFE ON THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 173 
 
 And as shipwrecked men they hoist signals 
 of distress. Any one approaching that solitary 
 eminence from the south might wonder to see a 
 flag floating from a tall staff over its southern 
 end, giving it all the greater resemblance to a 
 fortress with banner waving above. A tricolour 
 flag, bearing the symbolic badge of the Mexican 
 Republic — the Eagle upon the Nopal! It is 
 that Don Estevan had meant to have erected 
 over the new mine, now little likely ever to be 
 displayed there. For now it is unfolded to 
 tell a tale of threatening disaster, and attract 
 the eyes of those who may do something to 
 avert it. 
 
 But for this dark uncertainty of future there 
 is nothing irksome, not even disagreeable, in 
 their present life. On the contrary, it might be 
 even called pleasant ; plenty to eat, plenty to 
 drink, sufficient freedom of range, a sapphire 
 sky above, with an atmosphere around them 
 whose heat is tempered by breezes ever blow- 
 ing, ever laden with the fragrance of fruit and 
 flower. 
 
174 the lost mountain. 
 
 And no scene of sombre gloomy silence ; 
 instead, one enlivened by the notes of many 
 wild warblers, both diurnal and nocturnal. By 
 day the jarring yet cheering cry of the blue jay 
 and the red cardinal ; the mewing of the cat- 
 bird, or the " hew-hew " of hawk in pursuit of 
 his victim. By night, the more melodious, all 
 incomparable song of the czentzonlle — mocking- 
 bird of Mexico — oft intermingled with another 
 song, but little less powerful or sweet, that of 
 the ctiitlacoche — a second species of New World 
 nightingale, not so well known. 
 
 Life in the odd aerial camp now settles down 
 into a sort of routine, each day having its sepa- 
 rate calls and duties. The watch is, of course, 
 kept up, and with no falling off in its vigilance. 
 For although the besiegers have not again 
 shown any sign of an intention to try the assault, 
 who knows what may be in the mind of these 
 subtle savages ? 
 
 Only at night need there be any fear, and 
 only when it is darkest. At other times the 
 vidette duty is a matter of easy fulfilment. 
 
/.in: ON THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 175 
 
 In truth the miners might almost fancy them- 
 selves in picnic, having a happy time of it, half- 
 way between earth and heaven. But they are 
 not there by choice, too well knowing its stern 
 necessity. And this, with the dark doubtful 
 future, robs them of all zest for enjoyment. So 
 the hours pass not merrily, but wearily. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHO TO BE THE FORLORN HOPE ? 
 
 Day succeeds day with no brightening of 
 hopes to those beleagured on the Lost Moun- 
 tain. Instead, in each something arises to make 
 their prospects darker, if that were possible. 
 
 About ten days after the commencement of 
 the siege the besiegers have their force increased, 
 a fresh party coming down from the north, 
 evidently in obedience to a summons, which 
 they who drove off the captured caballada have 
 carried back. But for what purpose this 
 accession of strength, when it is not needed ? 
 They on the ground are already enough, and 
 to spare. 
 
 The miners cannot guess what they have 
 come about, unless it be the remaining braves 
 of the tribe, to take part in some ceremony 
 
 176 
 
WHO TO BE THE FORLORN HOPE] 177 
 
 over their fallen chief, or be present when the 
 time arrives for the wreaking of vengeance. 
 
 It has nothing to do with that, however; 
 solely a conception of their new leader, El 
 Zopilote, who has his reasons for carrying out 
 the raid down the Horcasitas. So on the 
 second day after, the besieging party, instead 
 of being one hundred men the more, is all that 
 the less ; at least two hundred seen to issue 
 forth from the camp, and proceed southward in 
 full war-paint and panoply, with all their frightful 
 insignia. As successive files they move off 
 along the stream's edge, it might seem as some 
 gigantic serpent commencing its crawl towards 
 prey. And many on the mountain, with a 
 suspicion of where they are going, have a pity- 
 ing heart for those who live on the banks of 
 the lower Horcasitas. 
 
 Enough, however, to think of themselves, 
 and each hour more than enough ; for as the 
 days pass circumstances present a still sterner 
 front. The supply of provisions, at first seeming 
 inexhaustible, proves to have a limit. There 
 
 12 
 
178 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 are over seventy mouths to feed, which calls for 
 a large daily quantity. So one by one the wild 
 quadrupeds give out, the birds long before these* 
 frightened by the constant chase and fusillade, 
 forsaking the place altogether. The store of 
 tasajo and other preserved meats begins to 
 be drawn upon. When these come to an 
 end, so too must all the suspense, all the 
 agonies of that quaint, quasi imprisonment, 
 to terminate in real captivity, or indeed death 
 itself. 
 
 In the tent of Don Estevan some seven or 
 eight of the mining people are assembled ; the 
 two duenos are of course present, with the 
 mayor-domo, the chief engineer, and other heads 
 of departments. No need to say the gambusino 
 is among them. They are there to take counsel 
 on the events of the day, and the means of the 
 morrow. Every night it has been their custom 
 to do so, and on this one — for it is at night — 
 there is nothing very different to speak of from 
 any other. 
 
 Still, Don Estevan has conceived a thought 
 
WHO TO BE THE FORLORN HOPE? 170 
 
 which had not hitherto occurred to him, and 
 now lays it before the assembled conclave. 
 
 " Caballeros ! I can think of only one way — 
 poor, doubtful chance it is — by which we may 
 get rescued. Some one must contrive to pass 
 their sentries." 
 
 "Impossible!" is the thought of all hearing 
 him, one or two expressing it in speech. For 
 of all the things observed as vigorously kept 
 up, never relaxed for an hour — even a moment 
 — has been that sentinel line thrown across the 
 plain from flank to flank of the ravine. All 
 day long it has appeared there, and all through 
 the night evidently redoubled. 
 
 " Pity if it be," rejoins Don Estevan, yielding 
 to what appears the general sentiment. " And 
 to think that one word at Arispe would make 
 all well. My own brother-in-law, Colonel 
 Requcnes, in command there with a regiment 
 of lancers — they of Zacatecas. In less than half 
 an hour they could be in the saddle, and hasten- 
 ing to our relief. Ay Dios ! if we can't com- 
 municate with them we are lost — surely lost ! " 
 
 12—2 
 
180 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 At this, Robert Tresillian says, interroga- 
 tively : 
 
 " I wonder how many of our people could 
 find the way back to Arispe ? " 
 
 Without altogether comprehending what he 
 means, several numbers are mentioned in a 
 guessing way, according to the estimate of each. 
 Pedro Vicente thinks at least thirty could, — 
 certainly all the arrieros and vaqueros. 
 
 " What is your idea, Don Roberto ? " at length 
 asks the senior partner. 
 
 " That all of those who know the way back 
 be mustered, and two taken from them by lot, 
 who will run the risk of passing the Indian 
 sentries. If they succeed, then all may be 
 saved ; if on the contrary, it will be but to lose 
 their lives a little sooner. I propose that all 
 submit to the lottery — all who are unmarried." 
 
 " I aeree with the Seilor Tresillian," here 
 puts in the gambusino. " Some of us must 
 contrive to get past them at whatever risk. 
 For my part, I 'm willing to be one, with any 
 other." 
 
WHO TO BE THE FORLORN HOPE? 181 
 
 The generous proposal is received with 
 applause, but not accepted, — it would not be 
 fair ; and in fine it is agreed upon, that fate 
 shall determine who shall be the pair to run 
 the proposed risk — the ceremony for deciding 
 it to take place on the morrow. 
 
 In the morning it comes off soon as break last 
 is eaten. All known to be eligible are sum- 
 moned together on a spot of ground apart, and 
 told the purport of their being so assembled. 
 No one objects, or tries to evade the dangerous 
 conscription ; instead, there are even some who, 
 like Vicente, would volunteer for the duty. 
 
 For is not one of the ducuos — the brave 
 Englishman and his son, there present — both 
 dit- ring themselves as candidates like any of 
 the common men ? 
 
 No volunteering, then, is allowed ; fortune 
 alone permitted to decide on whom shall be the 
 forlorn hope. 
 
 The quaint lottery, though awe-inspiring, 
 occupies but a brief space of time. Against 
 the number of men who arc to take part in it, 
 
1S2 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 a like number of pinon-nuts have been counted 
 out, and dropped into a deep-crowned sombrero. 
 Two of the nuts have been already stained with 
 gunpowder, the others left in their natural 
 colour ; but no one by the feel could tell which 
 was which. The black ones are to be the 
 prizes. 
 
 The men stand in a ring round Don Estevan, 
 with another who is among the exempt in the 
 centre. These hold the hat, into which one 
 after another, stepping from the circle, led 
 forward blindfolded, inserts his hand, and draws 
 out a nut. If white, he goes clear ; but long 
 before the white ones are exhausted the two 
 blacks are taken up, which brings the ceremony 
 to an abrupt end, that deciding all. 
 
 They who have drawn the prizes are a 
 muleteer and a cattle drover, both brave fellows. 
 They had need be, for this very night they will 
 have to run the gauntlet of life and death, 
 perhaps ere the morrow's sun to be no more. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A FATA L FAILURE. 
 
 It is a day of anxious solicitude. If the 
 night turn out a dark one, the messengers 
 whom fate has chosen for the perilous enter- 
 prise are to set out on their errand. They 
 know it is to be a moonless one, but for all, in 
 the diaphanous atmosphere of that upland 
 plateau, it may be too clear to make the passing 
 of the Indian sentinels at all possible. 
 
 The afternoon begets hope : a bank of heavy 
 clouds is seen rising along the western sky, 
 which, rolling higher and higher, brings on a 
 downpour of rain. It is of short continuance, 
 however — over before sunset, the clouds again 
 dispersing. Then the darkness comes down, 
 but for a long time only in a glimmering of 
 grey, the stars in grand sheen making it almost 
 as clear if there was moonlight. 
 
 183 
 
184 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 The sentinels can be seen in their old places 
 like a row of dark stakes, conspicuous against 
 the green turf on which they are stationed. 
 They are at short distances apart, and every 
 now and then forms are observed moving from 
 one to the other, as if to keep them continuously 
 on the alert. 
 
 So thus, nigh up to the hour of midnight, and 
 the miners begin to despair of their messengers 
 being able to pass out — at least, on this night. 
 
 But soon, to their satisfaction, something 
 shows itself promising a different result. The 
 surface of the lake has suddenly turned white, 
 as if under a covering of snow. It is foe. 
 Through the heated atmosphere the lately-fallen 
 rain is rising in vapour, and within its misty 
 shroud it envelopes not only the lake, but the 
 plain around its edges. It rolls over the line of 
 savage watchers, on up between the jaws of the 
 chine, till in its damp clammy film it embraces 
 the bodies of those who are waiting above. 
 
 "Now's your time, muchachos!" says Don 
 Estevan, addressing himself to those who are 
 
A FATAL FAILURE. 1S5 
 
 to adventure. " There could not be a better 
 opportunity ; if they can't be passed now, they 
 never can." 
 
 The two men are there ready, and equipped 
 for the undertaking. Young fellows both, with 
 a brave look, and no sign of quailing or desire 
 to back out. Each carries a small wallet of 
 provisions strapped to his person, with a pistol 
 in his belt, but no other arms or accoutrements 
 to encumber them. In subtleness and activity, 
 more than mere physical force, lie their chances 
 of success. 
 
 A shaking of hands with such of their old 
 comrades as are near, farewells exchanged when 
 they pass over the parapet of loose stones to 
 commence the descent, with many a " va con 
 Dios /" sent after them in accents of earnest 
 prayerfulness. Then follows an interregnum 
 of profound silence, during which time they at 
 the ravine's head listen with keenest anxiety. 
 
 After a few seconds a slight rustling below 
 tells that one of the two has made a slip, or 
 pushed a stone out of place ; but nothing comes 
 
186 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 of it. Then a horse neighs in the distant camp, 
 and soon after another, neither of them having 
 any significance. No more the screaming of 
 wild-fowl at the lower end of the lake, nor the 
 querulous cry of "chuck-will's widow," hawking 
 high over it. None of these sounds have any 
 portent as to the affair in hand, and they, listen- 
 ing, begin to hope that it has succeeded — for 
 surely there has been time for the two men to 
 have got beyond the guarded line ? 
 
 Hope premature, alas 1 to be disappointed. 
 Up out of the mist comes the sound of voices, 
 as if in hail, followed by dubious response, and 
 quick succeeding a struggle with shots. Then 
 a cry or two as in agony, a shout of triumph, 
 and all silent as before. 
 
 $fc 7& -n- ^c •?£ 
 
 For the rest of the night they on the mesa 
 sleep not. Too surely has their scheme failed, 
 and their messengers fallen victims to it. If 
 they were any doubts about this, these are set 
 at rest at an early hour of the morning. 
 
 Sad evidence they have to convince them. 
 
A FATAL FAILURE. 187 
 
 On the spot where the scalp dance had taken 
 place a red pole is again erected, as the other 
 ornamented with the skins of human heads. 
 But not now to be danced around ; though for 
 a time they, looking from above, think there is 
 to be a repetition of that savage ceremony. 
 Soon they are undeceived, and know it to be a 
 spectacle still more appalling. From the camp 
 they see a man conducted, whom they identify 
 as one of their ill-fated messengers. Taken on 
 to the stake, he is placed back against it, with 
 arms extended and strapped to a cross-piece, in 
 a way representing the figure of the Crucifixion. 
 His breast has been stripped bare, and on it is 
 seen painted in white the hideous symbol of the 
 Death's head and cross-bones. 
 
 For what purpose all this display ? the spec- 
 tators conjecture among themselves. Not long 
 till they have the answer. They see several 
 scores of the savages range themselves at a 
 certain distance off, each gun in hand, one after 
 the other taking aim and discharging his piece 
 at the human target. Gradually the disc on 
 
188 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the breast is seen to darken, turning red, till at 
 length not a spot of white is visible. But long 
 ere this the head of the hapless victim, drooped 
 over his shoulder, tells that he is dead. 
 
 The cruel tragedy is repeated, showing now 
 what was not known before, that both the ill- 
 starred couriers had been taken alive. He 
 brought forth next is recognizable, by the pic- 
 turesque dress still on his person, as the vaquero. 
 But when taken up to the stake he is stripped 
 of it, the velveteen jaqueta pulled from off his 
 shoulders, his shirt torn away, leaving his breast 
 bare. Then with a hurried touch, the grim, 
 ghastly device is limned upon him, and he is 
 taken up to the pole as the other. 
 
 A fresh fusillade commences, the white gra- 
 dually showing dimmer, till at length it is deeply 
 incrimsoned, and th ^ vaquero is a lifeless corpse. 
 
 When it is all over, the Coyoteros turn to- 
 wards the gorge, and looking up, give utterance 
 to wild yells of triumph, brandishing their 
 weapons in a threatening manner, as much as 
 to say, " That 's the way we '11 serve you all, 
 when the time comes." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A PRODIGIOUS LEAP. 
 
 Needless to say that the failure of their 
 scheme with such fatal consequence has deepened 
 the gloom in the minds of the besieged miners, 
 already dark enough. Now more than ever do 
 they believe themselves doomed. There seems 
 no alternative left but surrender or starvation 
 and as both are alike certain death, they dwell 
 not on the first. True, starvation is not yet so 
 close at hand ; they have still provisions — some 
 of the old caravan stores — sufficient for a couple 
 of weeks, if carefully served out, while the live 
 stock furnished by the mesa itself has not all 
 been exhausted. Some animals as yet remain 
 uncaptured, though how many they know not. 
 
 To make sure, another grand battue is set on 
 foot to embrace the whole summit area. Every 
 outlying corner and promontory arc quartered 
 
 189 
 
190 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 and beaten, so that no four-footed creature could 
 possibly be there without being seen or shot. 
 The result is a bag, of but small dimensions, 
 though with large variety ; a prong-horn ante- 
 lope, the last of a band that had been daily 
 getting thinned ; several sage hares, a wolf, and 
 three or four coyotes. More of these last w T ere 
 startled, but not killed, as they have lairs in the 
 ledges of the cliffs to which they betake them- 
 selves, secure from pursuit of hunter. 
 
 While the battue is at its height, one large 
 quadruped is put up which more than any other 
 excites the ardour of those engaged. It is a 
 big-horn, or Rocky Mountain sheep, remnant 
 of that flock first found upon the mesa by 
 Vicente and Henry Tresillian ; it is also a ram, 
 a young one, but with grand curvature of horns. 
 One after another all the rest have been made 
 mutton of, and their bones lie bleaching around 
 the camp ; but, though several times chased, 
 this sole survivor has ever contrived to escape, 
 as though it had a charmed life. And now 
 again it seems still under such protection; for at 
 
A PRODIGIOUS LEAP. 191 
 
 starting several shots are fired at it, none taking 
 effect ; and it bounds on, apparently unharmed, 
 towards an outlying projection of the plateau. 
 
 Those who have emptied their guns follow 
 without staying to re-load ; for they form a line 
 which, deployed crossways, cannot fail to 
 enclose and cut oft its retreat, making escape 
 impossible. In fine, they effect this purpose; 
 some, with guns still charged, confidently ad- 
 vancing to give the animal its coup de grace. 
 They are even aiming at it, when, lo! a leap 
 upward and outward, with head bent down as 
 one making a dive, and the big-horn bounds 
 over the cliff. 
 
 Five hundred feet fall— shattered to atoms 
 on the rocks below ! — this their thought as they 
 approach the precipice to see the prodigious 
 leap that must have been taken by the animal 
 in its panic of fear. One, however, draws nigh 
 with a different thought, knows there was 
 method in that seeming madness, and that the 
 carncro sprang over with a design. Pedro 
 Vicente it is ; and with the others soon upon 
 
192 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the cliff's brow, and, gazing below, to their sur- 
 prise they see no sheep there, dead and crushed 
 as expected. Instead, a live one out upon the 
 llano, making off in strides long and vigorous. 
 
 Sure of its being the same they had just 
 driven over, all are astounded, expressing their 
 astonishment in loud ejaculations. Alone the 
 gambusino is silent, a pleased expression perva- 
 ding his countenance, for that extraordinary feat 
 of the horned creature has let a flood of light 
 into his mind, giving him renewed hope that 
 they may still be saved. He says nothing of 
 it to those around, leaving it for more mature 
 consideration, and to be discussed in their 
 council of the night. 
 
 But lon» after the others have returned to 
 camp he lingers on the cliff, treading backwards 
 and forwards along its crest, surveying it from 
 every possible point of vantage, as though in an 
 endeavour to find out how the sheep made that 
 extraordinary descent. 
 
 yfc %C -^ *A* "T? 
 
 Another night is on, and, as is their wont, the 
 
A PRODIGIOUS LEAP. 193 
 
 chief men of those besieged are assembled in 
 the tent of Don Estevan. Not discouraged 
 yet, for there is a rumour among them that 
 some new plan has been thought of for passing 
 the Indian sentries, less likely to be disastrous 
 than that which has failed. It has been the 
 whisper of the afternoon, their guide being 
 regarded as he who has conceived a scheme. 
 
 When all are together Don Estevan calls 
 upon him to declare it, saying, 
 
 ''I understand, Seiior Vicente, you've thought 
 of a way by which a messenger may yet elude 
 the vigilance of their sentries, and get beyond 
 them ? " 
 
 " I have, your worship." 
 
 " Please make it known." 
 
 " Nothing more simple ; and I only wonder 
 at not having thought of it before. After all, 
 that would have been useless, for only this day 
 have I discovered the thing to be possible." 
 
 " We long to hear what it is." 
 
 " Well, then, sefiores, it 's but to give them 
 the slip. Going out by the back door, while 
 
 13 
 
lOt THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 they are so carefully guarding the front. That 
 can be done by our letting one down the cliff- 
 two, if need be." 
 
 " But where ? " 
 
 " Where the carnero went over." 
 
 "What! five hundred feet? Impossible! 
 We have not rope enough to reach half the 
 distance." 
 
 "We don't need rope to reach much more 
 than a third of it." 
 
 " Indeed ! Explain yourself, Don Pedro." 
 
 " I will, your worship, and it is thus. I 've 
 examined the cliff carefully, where the sheep 
 went over. There are ledges at intervals; it is 
 true not wide, but broad enough for the animal 
 to have dropped upon and stuck. They can 
 cling to the rocks like squirrels or cats. Some 
 of the ledges run downwards, then zigzag into 
 others, also with a downward slope ; and the 
 ram must have followed these, now and then 
 making a plunge, where it became necessary, to 
 alight on his hoofs or horns, as the case mieht 
 be. Anyhow, he got safe to the bottom, as 
 
a prodigious leap. i e 
 
 wc know, and where it went down, so may 
 we. 
 
 There is a pause of silence, all looking pleased 
 for the words of the gambusino have resuscitated 
 hopes that had almost died out. They can see 
 the possibility he speaks of, their only doubt 
 and drawback being the fear they may not 
 have rope enough. 
 
 "It seems but a question of that," says Don 
 Estevan, as if speaking reflectingly to himself 
 
 The others arc also considering, each trying 
 to recall how much and how many of their trail 
 ropes were brought up in that hasty debendade 
 from their camp below. 
 
 " Per Dios ! your worship," rejoins the gam- 
 busino, "it is no question of that whatever. We 
 have the materials to make cords enough, not 
 only to go down the cliff, but all round the 
 mountain. Miles, if it were needed!" 
 
 " What materials ? " demanded several of the 
 part)-, mystified. 
 
 " Mira ! " exclaims the gambusino. " This ! " 
 
 He starts up from a bundle of dry mezcal- 
 
 13—2 
 
196 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 leaves on which he has been seated, pushing it 
 before him with his foot. 
 
 All comprehend him now, knowing that the 
 fibre of these is a flax, or rather hemp, capable 
 of being worked into thread, cloth, or cordage ; 
 and they know that on the mesa is an unlimited 
 supply of it. 
 
 "No question of rope, caballeros ; only the 
 time it will take us to manufacture it. And 
 with men such as you, used to such gearing, 
 that should not be lone." 
 
 "It shall not," respond all. "We'll work 
 night and day till it be done." 
 
 "One day, I take it, will be enough — that to- 
 morrow. And if luck attend us, by this time 
 to-morrow night we may have our messengers 
 on the way, safe beyond pursuit of these 
 accursed red-skins." 
 
 Some more details are discussed maturing 
 their plans for the rope-making. Then all retire 
 to rest, this night with more hopeful anticipa- 
 tions than they have had for many preceding. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A YOUTHFUL VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Axotiter day dawns, and as the earliest rays 
 of the sun light up the Cerro Perdido, an 
 
 unusual bustle is observed in the camp of the 
 besieged. Men are busy collecting the leaves 
 of the mescal-plant, those that are withered and 
 dry from having their corms cut out days be- 
 fore ; fortunately there are many of these lying 
 all around. Other men, armed with rudely- 
 shaped mallets, beat them against the trunks 
 of trees, to separate the fibre from the now 
 desiccated pulp ; while still others are twisting 
 this into threads, by a further process to be 
 converted into thick ropes. 
 
 It is found that after all not so much will be 
 needed ; several lassoes had been brought up, 
 tied round the bundles of goods; and with these 
 
 197 
 
198 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 and other odds and ends of cordage, a rope can 
 be put together full two hundred feet in length, 
 strong enough to sustain the weight of any man. 
 So, long before night the lowering apparatus is 
 ready, and, as before, they await the darkness 
 to make use of it. 
 
 Meanwhile Don Estevan, the two Tresillians, 
 and Vicente spend most of the morning on the 
 cliff where the big-horn went over, surveying 
 it from every possible point, taking the bearings 
 of its ledges, and estimating their distances from 
 one another. They are, as the gambusino had 
 represented them, a succession of very narrow 
 benches, but wide enough for a man to find 
 footing ; some horizontal, others with a slope 
 downwards, then a zigzag bringing them lower, 
 till within a hundred feet from the cliff's base 
 the facade of rocks shows sheer and clear. 
 Down to this point all will be easy ; and 
 beyond it they anticipate little difficulty, now 
 that they are sure of having sufficient rope. 
 
 While engaged in their reconnaissance, an 
 object comes under their eyes which they gaze 
 
A YOUTHFUL VOLUNTEER 199 
 
 upon with interest. They are upon the western 
 side of the mesa not far above its southern point, 
 the plain on that side being invisible from the 
 camp of the besiegers ; and on this, at the 
 distance of a mile or more, there is a spot of 
 pasture due to a tiny rivulet, which, filtering off 
 from the side of the lake, becomes dispersed 
 over a considerable surface, which it moistens 
 and makes green. 
 
 Moving to and fro over this verdant stretch 
 is the object which has caught their attention — 
 a horse of large size and coal-black colour, which 
 they know to be no other than Crusader. They 
 are not surprised at seeing him there. Habitu- 
 ally he frequents this spot, which has become 
 his accustomed pasturing - ground, and more 
 than once had Henry Tresillian stood on that 
 cliff regarding him with fond affectionate gaze ; 
 more than once, too, had the Indians again 
 gone in chase of him, to be foiled as before. 
 There is he still unlassoed, free of limb ps the 
 antelopes seen flitting over the ILino around 
 him. 
 
200 Till: LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 After completing the examination of their 
 precipice, and noting all details that may be 
 needed to help out their design, they stand for 
 a time gazing at the horse, his young master 
 with a thought in his mind which he witholds 
 from the others. Nor does he communicate it 
 to them till after their return to the camp, and 
 the question comes up, who are the ones to be 
 lowered down ; for it is thought better that two 
 messengers should be sent, as company and 
 support to each other. That is the question 
 to be decided, and up to this hour all expect 
 it to be as before — by lottery. 
 
 In fine, when the time arrives for settling it, 
 and the eligible ones are again assembled for 
 drawing lots, a proposal is made which takes 
 every one present by surprise. It comes from 
 the youngest of the party, Henry Tresillian, 
 who says : 
 
 " Let me go alone." 
 
 All eyes turn upon him inquiringly and in 
 wonder, none more than those of his father, 
 who exclaims : 
 
A YOUTHFUL VOLUNTEER. 201 
 
 " You go alone, my son ! Why do you pro- 
 pose that ? " 
 
 " Because it will be best, father." 
 
 " How best ? I do not understand you." 
 
 " Crusader can only carry one." 
 
 "Ah! Crusader — that's what you're think- 
 ing ot r 
 
 "For Diosf" exclaims the senior partner, 
 " I sec what your son means, Don Roberto ; his 
 idea is admirable ! " 
 
 "Yes," says the English youth in answer to 
 his father ; " I 've been thinking of it ever since 
 yesterday. On Crusader's back I can be at 
 Arispe days before any foot messenger could 
 arrive there. Once I had him between my 
 legs, no fear of Indians overtaking me." 
 
 "The very thing!" cries Don Estevan, de- 
 lighted. "But, Senor Henrique, are you sure 
 you can catch the horse?" 
 
 " Catch him ! he will come to my call. Once 
 on the plain, and within hearing of my voice, 
 I 've no fear of his soon being by my side." 
 
 "But why not let me take him?" puts in 
 
203 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Pedro Vicente, as if to spare the generous 
 youth from undertaking such a risk. " I know 
 the read better than you, mitc/iacko." 
 
 " That may be," returns the other. " But I 
 know it well enough. Besides, Crusader will 
 let no one catch him but myself — much less 
 ride him." 
 
 During all this conversation the bystanders 
 regard the young Englishman with looks of 
 admiration. Never before have they seen so 
 much courage combined with intelligence. And 
 all to be exerted in their favour ; for they have 
 not forgotten the fate of their two comrades, 
 put to death in such a cruel fashion. Every 
 one of them fears that the like may befall him- 
 self, should it be his ill luck to draw a black 
 piiion out of the sombrero. 
 
 Not the least in admiration is Robert Tresil- 
 lian himself: his heart swells with pride at the 
 gallant bearing of the boy, his own son, worthy 
 of the ancestral name ; and when Don Estevan 
 turns to him to ask whether he objects to the 
 proposal, it is to receive answer : 
 
A YOUTH 111. VOLUNTEER. 203 
 
 " On the contrary, I approve of it. 1 
 messengers might not reach in time, if at all. 
 My brave boy will do it if it can be done; it 
 may be the means of bringing rescue to us all. 
 If he fail, then I, like the rest of you, must 
 submit to fate." 
 
 " I '11 not fail," cries the impetuous youth, 
 rushing forward and throwing his arms round 
 his father. " Fear not. I have a belief that 
 God's hand is in it, else why should my noble 
 horse have stayed ? Why is he still there ? " 
 
 " Virgensantissima!" exclaims Don Estevan 
 in devout tone. "It would even seem so. Let 
 us hope and pray that the Almighty's hand is 
 in it. If so, we shall be saved." 
 
 Henry Tresillian is the hero of the hour, 
 though he has been a favourite with the people 
 of the caravan all alone:, doinor kind offices to 
 this one and that one, helping all who needed 
 help. But now, when they hear he has volun- 
 teered on this dangerous service, as it were 
 offering up his life for theirs, encomiums are loud 
 on all sides. Women fall upon their knees.- 
 
2.04 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 and, with crucifix in hand, offer up prayers for 
 his protection. But Gertrude ? Oh, the sad 
 thoughts — the utter woe that strikes through 
 her heart — when she hears tidings of what is 
 intended ! She receives them with a wild cry, 
 almost a shriek, with arms outstretched staler- 
 ing to the side of her mother for support. 
 
 " Mamma, father must not let him go. He 
 will be lost, and then— then " 
 
 " Have no fear. Think, hija mia, we may all 
 be lost if he do not." 
 
 " But why cannot some other go in his place ? 
 There are many who know the way as well as 
 he, and that brave gambusino, I 'm sure, would 
 be willing." 
 
 "No doubt he would, dearest; there's some 
 reason against it I do not quite understand. 
 We shall hear all soon, when father returns to 
 the tent." 
 
 They do hear the reason ; but not any the 
 more to reconcile Gertrude. The young girl is 
 half beside herself with grief, utterly indifferent 
 as to who may observe it. The bud of her love 
 
A rOUTIIFVL VOLUNTEER. 
 
 has bloomed into a flower, and she recks not 
 that all the world know her heart is Henry 
 Tresillian's. The cousin left behind at Arispe, 
 
 supposed to be an aspirant to her hand, is for- 
 gotten. All are forgotten, save the one now 
 near, so soon to be cruelly torn away from her. 
 Neither the presence of her father and mother, 
 nor that of his father, restrain her in her wild 
 ravings. She knows she has their approval of 
 her partiality, and her young heart, innocent of 
 guile, yields to nature's promptings. 
 
 Her appeals are in vain : what must be must 
 be, and she at length resigns herself to the in- 
 evitable. For Henry himself tells her how it is, 
 and that no one possibly could take his place. 
 
 It is in dialogue between them, just as the 
 twilight begins to cast its purple shadows over 
 the plain. For the time is drawing nigh for 
 action, and the two have gone apart from the 
 camp to speak the last words of leave-taking. 
 They stand under a tree, hands clasped, gazing 
 into each other's eyes, those of the young girl 
 full of tears. 
 
20 G THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " Querida" he says, " do not weep. 'T will 
 be all well yet — I feel sure of it." 
 
 "Would that I could feel so, Henrique; but, 
 oh ! dearest, such clanger ! And if the cruel 
 savages capture you. Ay Dios / to think of 
 what they did with the others ! " 
 
 " Let them catch me if they can. They 
 never will if I once £ret alongside Crusader. 
 On his back I may defy them." 
 
 " True, I believe it. But are you sure of 
 getting upon his back ? In the darkness you 
 may not find him." 
 
 "If not, it will be but to return to the cliff and 
 be drawn up again." 
 
 This assurance somewhat tranquillizes her. 
 There is at least the hope, almost certainty, he 
 will not, as the others, be sacrificed to a fruitless 
 attempt; and, so trusting, she says in conclusion: 
 
 " Go, then, qucrido mio. I will no more 
 oppose it, but pray all night long for your 
 safety. I see now it is for the best, and feel 
 that the blessed Mary, mother cf God, will listen 
 to my prayers." 
 
,1 mrrin-TL volunteer. 
 
 2 7 
 
 No longer hands clasped, but arms entwined, 
 and lips meeting in a kiss of pure holy affection, 
 sanctified by parental consent. Then they 
 return to the camp, where the final preparations 
 are being made for that venture upon which so 
 much depends. 
 
 c^c _ - - 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A RIDE IN MID-AIR. 
 
 It turns out just such a night as was wished 
 for — moonless, still not obscurely dark. Too 
 much darkness would defeat the end in view. 
 They need light for the lowering down, a thing 
 that will take some time with careful manage- 
 ment. 
 
 But the miners are the very men for such 
 purpose. Not one of them who has not dangled 
 at a rope's end in a shaft hundreds of feet sheer 
 down into the earth. To them it is habitude — 
 child's play — as to him who spends his life 
 scaling sea-coast cliffs for the eggs and young 
 of birds. 
 
 It is yet early when the party entrusted with 
 the undertaking assemble on the edge of the 
 precipice, at the point where the daring ad- 
 
 208 
 
A RIDE IN MID- A III. 209 
 
 venturer is to make descent. Some carry coils 
 of rope, others long poles notched at the end for 
 fending the line off the rocks, while the gam- 
 busino is seen bearing a burden which differs 
 from all the rest. A saddle and bridle it is ; 
 his own, cherished for their costliness, but now 
 placed at the service of his young friend, to do 
 what he will with them. 
 
 " I could ride Crusader without them," says 
 the English youth : "guide him with my voice 
 and knees ; but these will make it surer, and 1 
 thank you, Serior Vicente." 
 
 " Ah, muchacho ! if they but help you, how- 
 glad 'twill make me feel! If they're lost, it 
 wouldn't be for that I 'd grudge the twenty 
 dobloncs the saddle cost me. I'd give ten times 
 as much to see you seated in it on the plaza of 
 Arispe." 
 
 " I '11 be there, amigo, in less than sixty hours 
 if Crusader hasn't lost his strength by too long 
 feeding on grass." 
 
 " I fancy you need not fear that, scnorito ; 
 your horse is one that nothing seems to allect. 
 
 14 
 
210 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 I still cling to the belief he's the devil him- 
 self." 
 
 " Better believe him an ansrel — our eood 
 angel now, as I hope he will prove himself." 
 
 This exchange of speech between the two 
 who have long been compagnons dc ckassc, is 
 only an interlude occurring while the ropes are 
 being uncoiled and made ready. 
 
 Instead of a loop to be passed around the 
 adventurer's body, a very different mode for his 
 making descent has been prearranged. He is 
 to take seat in the saddle, just as though it were 
 on the back of a horse, and, with feet in the 
 stirrups and hands clutching the cords that sus- 
 pend it, be so let down. A piece of wood passed 
 under the tree, and firmly lashed to pommel and 
 cantle, will secure its equilibrium. 
 
 Finally all is ready, and, the daring rider 
 taking his seat, is soon swinging in mid-air. 
 Hand over hand they lower him down, slowly, 
 cautiously, listening all the while for a signal to 
 be sent up. This they get in due time — a low 
 whistle telling them that he has reached the 
 
.1 RIDE IN MID- AIR. nil 
 
 first ledge, though they could tell it by the strain 
 upon the rope all at once having ceased. 
 
 Up it is drawn again, its owner himself, in 
 turn, taking scat in it, to be lowered down as 
 the other. Then again and again it is hoisted 
 up and let down, till half a score of the miners, 
 stalwart men, Robert Tresillian among them, 
 stand on the bench below. 
 
 Now the saddle is detached and fastened on 
 to another rope, when the same process is 
 repeated ; and so on, advantage being taken of 
 the sloping ledges, till the last is arrived at. 
 
 Here it is but a repetition of what has gone 
 before, only with a longer reach of rope ; and 
 here Pedro Vicente takes last leave of the youth 
 who has become so endeared to him. 
 
 In the eye of the honest gambusino there is 
 that not often seen there, a tear. He llings his 
 arms around the English youth, exclaiming : 
 
 " Dios te guarda, muchacho valiente / (God 
 guard you, my brave lad)." 
 
 The parting between the two is almost as 
 
 affectionate as that between Henry and his 
 
 14—2 
 
212 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 father, the last saying, as he enfolds his son in 
 his arms : 
 
 " God go with you, my noble boy ! " 
 
 In another moment the daring youth is once 
 more in the saddle, going down, down, till he 
 feels his feet upon the plain. Then stepping 
 out of it, and sending up the preconcerted signal, 
 he detaches saddle and bridle from the cords, 
 leaving the latter to swing free. 
 
 Shouldering the horse gear with other im- 
 pedimenta, he looks round to get his bearings, 
 and, soon as satisfied about these, starts off 
 over the plain in search of Crusader. 
 
 He is not the only one at that moment 
 making to find the horse. From the Indian 
 camp a picked party has issued forth, urged by 
 the chief. For the new leader of the Coyoteros 
 longs to possess that now famous steed as much 
 as did the deceased one. 
 
 " Ten of my best mustangs, and as many of 
 my mules, will I give for the black horse of the 
 pale-face. He who captures him may claim 
 that reward." 
 
A RIDE IN MID-AIR. 213 
 
 More than once has El Zopilotc thus de- 
 clared himself, exciting the ardour and cupidity 
 of his followers. Withal they have chased 
 Crusader in vain, over and over again, till in 
 their superstitious fancy they begin to think 
 him a phantom. 
 
 But as yet they have never tried to take him 
 by night ; and now, having ascertained the 
 place where he usually passes the nocturnal 
 hours, they start out in quest of him. 
 
 Not rashly nor incautiously ; instead, they 
 proceed deliberately, and with a preconceived 
 plan, as though stalking game. Their intention 
 is first to enfilade the animal at long distance 
 off, then contract the circle, so as to have him 
 sure. 
 
 In execution of their scheme, on reaching the 
 western side of the lake, they divide into two 
 parties. One moves along the mountain's foot, 
 dropping a file here and there ; the other 
 strikes out over the llano, in a circular line, as 
 it proceeds doing the same. 
 
 It is too dark for them to see horse or other 
 
214 THE LOST MOUNT A IX. 
 
 object at any great distance, so they take care 
 that their circle be wide enough to embrace the 
 stretch of pasture where the coveted animal is 
 known to browse. 
 
 Noiselessly they execute the movement, 
 going at a slow walk, lest the hoof-strokes of 
 their horses may alarm the one they would 
 enclose ; and when the heads of the separated 
 parties again come together, all know it by a 
 signal agreed upon — the cry of the coyote trans- 
 mitted along their line admonishes them that 
 the cordon is complete. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ONCE MORE UPON CRUSADER. 
 
 Henry Tresillian has hardly advanced a 
 hundred yards from the cliff, when the Indian 
 party, turning northward, passes close to the 
 spot where he had been let down. Luckily 
 not so close as to observe the rope still hanging 
 there, and far enough from himself to hinder 
 their seeing him. For the obscurity makes it 
 impossible to distinguish objects unless very 
 near. 
 
 Neither sees he them, nor has any suspicion 
 of their dangerous proximity ; and without stop 
 or stay he keeps on towards the point where he 
 expects to find his horse. 
 
 He goes not without a guide. At the latest 
 hour of twilight he had seen Crusader about a 
 
 215 
 
m THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 mile off, in a direction due west ; and although 
 the night is dark, some of the stars are visible, 
 among them the Polar. With this on his right 
 shoulder he cannot mistake the way, so con- 
 tinues on in confidence. 
 
 He knows he will not need to go groping 
 about, if the horse be still there, as it is hoped 
 he is : a peculiarly intoned call with a whistle 
 will bring him up from far as he can hear it. 
 Many a time has his master, while hunting on 
 the hills round Arispe, so summoned Crusader 
 to his side. 
 
 He has advanced more than half a mile, and 
 is thinking whether he shall not give the signal 
 and put an end to all uncertainty. He should 
 now be near enough for it to be heard, and it 
 will tell him if the animal be still there or has 
 wandered away to some other part of the llano- 
 In the latter case all his labours will be lost, 
 and no alternative left him but return to the 
 cliff and get hoisted up again. 
 
 Still a thought holds him silent. The activity 
 of the Indians, with their frequent patrol parties, 
 
ONCE MORE UPON CRUSADER. 217 
 
 more by night than by day, has long been a 
 matter of curiosity and speculation among the 
 miners. What if such a party be now out and 
 within hearing ? For he knows that to his 
 voice Crusader will respond with a neigh, and 
 that might undo all. Therefore, curbing his 
 impatience, he proceeds on, silent as a spectre, 
 his glances directed now this way, now that, 
 endeavouring to penetrate the gloom. 
 
 All at once he hears the tramp of a horse, on 
 the instant after seeing and recognizing Cm- 
 sader. To his surprise also ; for the animal is 
 not at rest or browsing, but moving excitedly 
 about, every now and then uttering a snort, as 
 though he scented danger. His master knows 
 he himself cannot be the cause of this unlooked- 
 for behaviour. The horse is up wind, and could 
 not possibly be aware of his approach. What, 
 then, is exciting him ? 
 
 Wolves — coyotes? Yes, it must be that; and 
 as a proof of its being so, just then he hears 
 the whining howl of the jackals simultaneously 
 all around. 
 
218 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Such a chorus resounding on every side 
 seems odd, the more from its beinof heard for 
 but a brief moment, then silence as before. 
 But Henry Tresillian stays not to reflect on 
 its oddity. He fears that the howling repeated 
 may start Crusader into a stampede, and with- 
 out further delay gives him that signal he 
 knows will be answered. Answered it is, and 
 instantly, by a neigh sent back in response ; 
 and in twenty seconds after the horse stands 
 face to face with his young master, his velvet 
 muzzle pressing the latter's cheek. On one 
 side there are words of endearment, on the 
 other a low, joyous whimpering, as though the 
 dumb brute was trying to speak its delight at 
 their beino- together asrain. 
 
 Crusader opens his mouth to receive the bit, 
 and seems almost to stoop for the saddle to 
 be thrown over him. He is caparisoned in a 
 trice ; but just as Henry Tresillian, stooping 
 to tighten the girths, gets the buckle into its 
 hole, he hears that which causes him to rise 
 erect, and clutch at the bridle : the sound of 
 
ONCE MORE UPON CRUSADER. 219 
 
 hoofs on all sides; horses evidently, with men 
 upon their backs. Indians!— they can be no 
 
 other ! 
 
 Quick as thought he vaults into the saddle, 
 and sets himself ready to make a dash. 
 
 In what direction? He knows that which 
 he should take for Arispe. But is it open to 
 him ? This he cannot tell, nor, indeed, that 
 any way is open to him. For he now hears 
 the tramp of horses all around, and before he 
 can resolve himself, sees the horses themselv ■■;. 
 It has grown a little clearer, for the moon is 
 about to rise, and Crusader's neigh had guided 
 the Indians to the spot. 
 
 If he stay, Henry Tresillian is conscious he 
 will soon be encircled by a crowd with no 
 chance to get clear of it. Already he sees its 
 ring closing around him. 
 
 But the Indians are still some fifty yards 
 distant, come to a halt ; suddenly and with 
 shouts of surprise, for they have sighted him. 
 There is even terror in their accents, with awe 
 in their hearts — awe of the supernatural. They 
 
220 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 supposed themselves making surround of a 
 horse, when lo ! there is a man upon his back, 
 all in keeping with the mysterious character 
 Crusader has obtained among those who have 
 vainly chased him. 
 
 The young Englishman notes their strange 
 behaviour, but without thought of the cause. 
 He knows, however, they will not stay long at 
 rest, and, by the better light, seeing a break in 
 their line, sets his horse's head for it, gives the 
 word with touch of knee, and springs forward 
 at full speed, determined to take his chance. . 
 
 In a dozen strides he is between two of the 
 Coyotero horsemen, when he feels his bridle 
 arm suddenly drawn back and held tight to his 
 body; then, with a quick jerk he is lifted clean 
 out of the saddle and flung with violence to 
 the earth! 
 
 Fortunately he is neither stunned nor loses 
 consciousness, but has all his senses about him; 
 he knows what has happened, and that he is 
 in the noose of a lasso. But his right arm is 
 free, and, instantly regaining his feet, he draws 
 
once more upon crusader. 221 
 
 his knife, and, severing the cord in twain, 
 releases himselt. 
 
 It would have been to little purpose had his 
 horse been other than he is. But the sagacious 
 animal, seeming to comprehend all, instead of 
 galloping away, has stayed by his side, and in 
 another moment has its master on its back 
 a^ain. 
 
 With to all appearance a clear track before 
 him now, the daring youth once more makes 
 forward, favoured by the confusion that has 
 arisen among the savages. In the dim light 
 they are unable to distinguish the strange horse- 
 man from one of themselves, and their surprise 
 is but increased with their superstitious terror, 
 both holding them spellbound. They but cry 
 out, and question one another, without making 
 any effort to pursue. 
 
 Henry Tresillian begins to think himself safe 
 away, when he sees one of the Coyoteros, who 
 had lagged behind their line, come full tilt 
 towards him in a gallop as himself. Before he 
 can check his pace, their animals meet in violent 
 
222 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 collision, and the mustang of the Indian is flung 
 back on its haunches, dismounting its rider. 
 The man has his gun in hand, and, seeing a pale- 
 face, instinctively raises the piece, taking aim at 
 him. But before he can touch the trigger, the 
 English youth has also a piece levelled — a pistol, 
 which cracks first ; and the savage, uttering- a 
 wild agonized yell, staggers a pace or two, and 
 falls backward on the grass. 
 
 With nothing more in his way now, his young 
 master again gives Crusader the word, and off 
 go they at highest race-course speed. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 UP THE CLIFF AGAIN. 
 
 It is some time before the Indians recover 
 from their mystification. Is the black horse 
 flesh and blood, or a phantom ? 
 
 Not until they have closed together and 
 taken counsel of one another is this question 
 resolved. The wiser of them affirm that in 
 some way one of the pale-faces must have got 
 down the cliff, caught the horse, and mounted 
 him. That the rider, at least, is a mortal being 
 they have ample evidence in their comrade 
 stretched dead upon the plain by a bullet. 
 
 The sight rekindles all their ire, and shouts 
 of vengeance make the welkin ring. But only 
 for a while. Silence again reigns, and the 
 hoof-strokes of the retreating fugitive can be 
 
 223 
 
221 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 heard through the tranquil calm of the night, 
 stirring them to pursuit. 
 
 Away go they in gallop after ; but not all, 
 nearly half of them turning their horses' heads 
 towards the cliff. For if the white men have 
 let one of their number down, there should be 
 some sign of it, which they proceed to search 
 for. 
 
 w t? 'A" tv w 
 
 Impossible to depict the feelings of those on 
 the mesa, above all, the ones who have been 
 standing on the ledges to await the result. 
 They cannot have themselves hoisted up again 
 till sure their messenger has either failed or got 
 free, and from the moment of his parting from 
 the cliff's base, to them all had been uncertainty. 
 Terrible suspense, too, from the very first ; for 
 although they saw not the Indians passing 
 underneath, they heard their horses' tread, now 
 and then a hoof striking against stone, or in 
 dull thud upon the hard turf. Though they 
 could not make out what it meant, they knew 
 it was something adverse — hostile. Horses 
 
I'P THE CLIFF AGAIN. 
 
 would not be there without men on their backs, 
 and these must be enemies. 
 
 Listening on, with hearts anxiously beating, 
 they hear that strange concatenation of cries, 
 the supposed howling of coyotes, all around the 
 plain. It puzzles them, too; but before tl 
 have time to reilect on it a sound better under- 
 standable reaches their ears — the neighing of a 
 horse — most of them recognizing it as Crusa- 
 der's, for most are familiar with its peculiar 
 intonation. 
 
 More intently than ever do they listen now, 
 but for a time hear nothing more. Only a brief 
 interval ; then arise sounds that excite their 
 apprehension to its keenest — voices of men, in 
 confused clamouring, the accent proclaiming 
 them Indians. 
 
 Robert Tresillian, still standing beside the 
 gambusino on the lowest ledge, feels his heart 
 sink within him, as he exclaims: 
 
 " My poor boy ! lost — lost ! " 
 
 '' Wait, senor," says Vicente, with an effort 
 to appear calm. " That 's not so sure. All 's 
 
 15 
 
22G THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 not lost that's in danger. If there be a chance 
 of escape your brave son's the very one to take 
 advantage of it. Oiga ! what 's that ? " 
 
 His question has reference to another chorus 
 of cries heard out on the plain ; then a mo- 
 ment's lull, succeeded by a crashing sound as 
 of two heavy bodies brought into collision. 
 After that a shot, quickly followed by a yell — 
 a groan. 
 
 " A pistol ! " exclaims the gambusino, " and 
 sure the one Senorito Henrique took with him. 
 I '11 warrant he 's made good use of it." 
 
 The father is too full of anxious thought to 
 make reply ; he but listens on with all ears, and 
 heart audibly pulsating. 
 
 Next to hear the hoof-strokes of a horse in 
 gallop as if going off; which in a way cheers 
 him : it may be his son escaped. 
 
 But then there is more confused clamour, 
 with loud ejaculations — voices raised in ven- 
 geance; and after the trampling of other horses, 
 apparently starting in pursuit. 
 
 What is to be done now ?— draw up the rope, 
 
UP THE ri. iff AGAIN. 
 
 and have themselves drawn up ? There seems 
 no reason for their waiting longer. The mes- 
 senger is either safe off, or has been captured ; 
 one way or the other he will not get back there. 
 So they may as well rcascend the cliff. 
 
 Besides, a thought of their own safety now 
 forces itself upon them. A streak of light 
 along the horizon admonishes them of the 
 uprising moon. Already her precursory rays, 
 reflected over the plain, begin to lighten the 
 obscurity, rendering objects more distinct, and 
 they now make out a dark mass on the llano 
 below, a party of horsemen, moving in the 
 direction of the mesa. 
 
 "We'd better pull up, Don Roberto," says 
 the gambusino ; " they 're coming this way, and 
 if they see the rope it will guide their eyes to 
 ourselves, and we 're both lost men. They 
 carry guns, and we'll be within easy range, 
 not over thirty yards from them. Por Dios t 
 if they sight us we're undone." 
 
 Don Roberto makes neither protest nor 
 objection, By this his son has either got i 
 
 15— a 
 
228 THE LOST MOUNT A IN. 
 
 or is captured : in either case, he cannot return 
 to them. And, as his companion, he is keenly 
 sensible to the danger which is now threatenine, 
 so signifies assent. • 
 
 Silently they draw up the rope, and soon as 
 it is all in their hands, signal to those above to 
 hoist them also. First one, making it fast 
 round his body, is pulled up ; then the loop 
 is let down, and the other ascends, raised by an 
 invisible power above. 
 
 Four are now on the next ledge, and, by 
 like course of proceeding are lifted one after 
 another to that still higher, the sloping benches 
 between helping them in their ascent. All is 
 done noislessly, cautiously ; for the savages are 
 now seen below in dark clump, stationary near 
 the foot of the precipice. 
 
 They have reached the last bench, and so far 
 unmolested, begin to think themselves out of 
 danger, 
 
 But alas, no ! The silence long prevailing is 
 suddenly broken by a rock displaced and roll- 
 ing down ; while at the same moment the trea- 
 
IP THE CLIFF AGAIN. 229 
 
 cherous moon, showing over the horizon's edge, 
 reveals them to the eyes of the Indians. 
 
 Then there is a chorus of wild yells, fol- 
 lowed by shots — a very fusillade ; bullets strike 
 the rocks and break fragments off, while other 
 shots fired in return by those above into the 
 black mass below instantly disperse it. 
 
 In the midst of all, the last man is drawn up 
 to the summit, but when landed there, they who 
 draw him up see that the rope's noose is no 
 longer round a living body, but a corpse, bleed- 
 ing, riddled with bullets. 
 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 DISTANCED NO DANGER NOW. 
 
 Finding himself clear of the Indians, Henry 
 Tresillian's heart beats high with hope ; no 
 mischance happening, he can trust Crusader 
 to keep him clear. And now he turns his 
 thoughts to the direction he should take. But 
 first to that in which he is oroinof, for he has 
 galloped out of the encircling line through the 
 nearest opening that caught his eye. 
 
 The foretaste of the moonlight enables him 
 to see where he is — luckily, on the right track. 
 The route to Arispe lies south-eastward, and 
 the lake must be passed at its upper or lower 
 end. The former is the direct route, the other 
 around about ; but then there is the Indian 
 camp to be got past, and others of the savages 
 
 230 
 
DISTANCED -NO DANGER NOW. 231 
 
 may be up and about. Still the wagon corral 
 is two or three hundred yards from the water's 
 edge, which may give him a chance to pass 
 between unobserved, and, with unlimited confi- 
 dence in his horse, he resolves upon risking it. 
 
 An error of judgment : he has not taken into 
 account the fracas behind, with the report of his 
 own pistol, and that all this must have been 
 heard by the red-skins remaining in camp. It 
 has nevertheless. The consequence being that 
 ere he has got half round the upper end of the 
 lake, he sees the plain in front of him thickly 
 dotted with dark forms — men on horseback — ■ 
 hears them shouting to one another. A glance 
 shows him it is a gauntlet too dangerous to be 
 run. The fleetness of his steed were no surety 
 against gun-shots. 
 
 He reins up abruptly, and, with a wrench 
 round, sets head west again, with the design to 
 do what he should have done at first — turn the 
 lake below. 
 
 The detour will be much greater now: he has 
 sed a large elbow of it, which must be re- 
 
232 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 passed to get around ; but there is no alterna- 
 tive, and, regretting his mistake, he makes along 
 the back track at best speed. Not far before 
 finding further reason to be sorry for his blunder. 
 On that side, too, he sees mounted men directly 
 before him — those he had lately eluded. They 
 are scattered all over the plain, apparently in 
 search of him, some riding towards the lake's 
 lower end, thinking he has gone that way. But 
 all have their eyes on him now, and place them- 
 selves in position to intercept him. His path is 
 beset on every side, the triumphant cries of the 
 Coyoteros proclaiming their confidence that they 
 have him at last — sure to capture or kill him 
 now. And his own heart almost fails him : go 
 which way he will, it must be through a shower 
 of bullets. 
 
 Again he reins up, and sits in his saddle un- 
 decided. The risk seems equal, but it must be 
 run ; there is no help for it. 
 
 Ha ! yes, there is. A thought has flashed 
 across his brain — a memory. He remembers 
 having seen the camp animals wading the lake 
 
DISTANCED— NO DANGER NOW. 233 
 
 through and through ; not over belly-deep. 
 Why cannot Crusader ? 
 
 With quick resolve he sets his horse's head 
 for the water, and in a second or two after the 
 animal is up to the saddle-girths, plunging lightly 
 as if it were but fetlock-deep. 
 
 Another cry from the Indians on both sides — 
 surprise and disappointment mingled ; in tones 
 telling of their belief in the supernatural, and 
 come back. 
 
 But soon they, too, recall the shallowness of 
 the lake, and see nothing strange in the fugitive 
 attempting to escape across it. So, without loss 
 of time, they again put their horses to speed, 
 making to head him on its eastern shore. 
 
 They are as near as can be to succeeding. A 
 close shave it is for the pursued messenger, who, 
 on emerging from the water, sees on either flank 
 horsemen hastening towards him. But he is 
 not dismayed. Before any of them are within 
 shot range he dashes onward ; Crusader, with 
 sinews braced by the cool bath, showing speed 
 which ensures him against being overtaken. 
 
234 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 He is pursued, nevertheless. The subtle 
 savages know there are chances and mischances. 
 One of the latter may arise in their favour; and 
 hoping it will be so, they continue the chase. 
 
 The moon is now up, everything on the level 
 llano distinguishable for miles, and the black 
 horse with his pale-faced rider is still less than 
 twenty lengths ahead ; so after him they go, fast 
 as their mustangs can be forced. 
 
 Only to find that in brief time the twenty 
 lengths have become doubled, then trebled, till 
 in fine they see that it is fruitless to carry the 
 pursuit further. 
 
 With hearts full of anger and chagrin, they 
 give it up. Some apprehension have they as 
 well. El Zopilote is not with them ; what will 
 he say on their returning empty-handed ? what 
 do ? For it is now no mere matter of the catch- 
 ing of a horse; instead, more serious — a courier 
 gone off to bring succour to the besieged. 
 
 Down-hearted and dejectedly they turn their 
 
 horses' heads, and ride back for Nauchampa- 
 
 tepetl. 
 
 # # # * * 
 
DISTANCED— NO DANGER NOW. 235 
 
 Had the Coyoteros stuck to their faith in the 
 probability of accidents and continued the pur- 
 suit, they might have overtaken Henry Tresillian 
 after all. For scarce have they turned backs 
 upon him when a mishap befalls him, not 
 absolutely staying him in his course, but delay- 
 ing him wellnigh an hour. He is making to 
 regain the road which runs north from Arispe, 
 at the point where the caravan, forced by want 
 of water, had deflected from it to the Cerro 
 Perdido. In daylight he could have ridden 
 straight to it ; for since then from the mesas 
 summit Pedro Vicente had pointed to guide- 
 marks indicating the spot where his initials 
 were carved upon the palmida. But in his 
 haste now, amid the glamour of a newly-risen 
 moon, the messenger has gone astray, only 
 discovering it when his horse suddenly stag- 
 gering forward comes down upon his knees, 
 shooting him out of the saddle. 
 
 He is less hurt than surprised. Never before 
 has Crusader made false step or stumble, and 
 why now ? 
 
236 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 A moment reveals the reason : the ground 
 has given way beneath, letting him down knee- 
 deep into a hole, the burrow of some animal. 
 
 Fortunately, there are no bones broken, no 
 damage done either to horse or rider ; and the 
 latter, recovering his seat in the saddle, essays 
 to proceed. Soon to be a second time brought 
 to a stand, though not now unhorsed. Crusader 
 but lurches, keeping his legs, though again near 
 going down. 
 
 The young Englishman perceives what it is : 
 he is riding through a warren of the kind well 
 known on the plains of Western America as 
 "a prairie-dog town or village." In the moon- 
 light he sees the hillocks of these marmots all 
 around, with the animals themselves squatting 
 on them ; hears their tiny squirrel-like bark, 
 intermingling with the hoot of the quaint little 
 owl which shares their subterranean habitations. 
 
 Once more at halt, he again bethinks himself 
 what is best to do. Shall he ride back and go 
 round the village, or continue on across it, 
 taking the chances of the treacherous ground ? 
 
DISTANCED— NO DANGER NOW. 237 
 
 He listens, soon to become assured that the 
 pursuit has been abandoned, thus giving him 
 choice to act deliberately, and do as seems best 
 to him. 
 
 Around the dog town may be miles, while 
 direct to the other side may be only a few score 
 yards. They are often of oblong shape, extend- 
 ing far, but of little breadth, possibly because of 
 the condition of the ground and the herbage it 
 produces. 
 
 Having ridden into it, he resolves to keep on; 
 but to his great annoyance and disgust finds it 
 to extend far beyond the limits of his patience ; 
 and as Crusader's hoofs break through the 
 hollow crust, it becomes necessary to alight and 
 lead him. 
 
 At length, however, he is out of it, and again 
 on firm ground, with the level llano far stretch- 
 ing before him. But in the distance he discerns 
 a mountain ridge, trending north and south, lit 
 up by the moon's light, along which, as he 
 knows, lies the route to Arispe. 
 
 " We 're on the riodit road now, mv noble 
 
238 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Crusader, with no fear of being followed. And 
 we must make it short as possible. The lives 
 of many depend on that — on your speed, brave 
 fellow. So let us on." 
 
 Crusader responds with one of his strangely- 
 intoned whimperings — almost speech. Then 
 stands motionless, till his young master is in 
 the saddle ; after which he again goes off in 
 a gallop, ventre a terre. 
 
 fk f ^ 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 IN PAIN F U L SUSP E N S E. 
 
 Than the rest of that night no more anxious 
 time has been spent by the beleaguered miners. 
 If their new messenger fail in his errand, then 
 they can never dispatch another. No chance 
 for a second one to descend the cliff, or get 
 down the gorge, for both will be hereafter 
 guarded more carefully than ever. 
 
 All stay awake till morning, listening to every 
 sound below, and doing what they can to in- 
 terpret it. They had heard the cries near the 
 Indian camp as Henry Tresillian attempted to 
 pass it, those by the ravine's head hearing them 
 plainer. Then other cries, as in response, pro- 
 ceeding from the western side of the lake. 
 
 After that a moment of silence, succeeded by 
 a plunging noise, as of a horse making his way 
 
 230 
 
•240 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 through deep water. And soon after shouts 
 again, for a while continuous, terminating in 
 hoof-strokes, at each instant less distinct, at 
 length dying away in the distance. 
 
 But just then they upon the cliff had to listen 
 to other sounds more concerning themselves. 
 For it was at this time their presence became 
 known to the party remaining behind, resulting 
 in that hurried ascent from ledge to ledge, with 
 the loss of one of their number. 
 
 Long after, they see that which renews their 
 
 excitement, their thoughts in a conflict between 
 
 hope and fear. From the vidette post, around 
 
 which they have all gathered, they behold a 
 
 moving mass, in the early dawn distinguishable 
 
 as men on horseback, It is the party who went 
 
 in pursuit of their messenger returning. But 
 
 whether they have him with them or no cannot 
 
 be told ; for they come back in a thick clump, 
 
 and he may be in its midst invisible. Nor is it 
 
 opened out till they pass behind the abutment 
 
 of rock, disappearing from the view of those on 
 
 the mesa. 
 
 =::= >,'.? # o s* 
 
IN PAINFUL SUSPENSE. 211 
 
 By the besieged ones the day is passed with 
 anxiety unrelieved. For, although several had 
 hastily proceeded to a point from which a sight 
 of the Indian camp could be obtained, it was 
 yet too dark to see whether the pursuers had 
 brought back a prisoner. And when daylight 
 came, he might be there without their being 
 able to see him — inside the marquee, or under 
 one of the wagons. 
 
 Gradually, however, their hopes gain the 
 ascendant; for nothing of Crusader can be seen, 
 and the noble steed, if there, could not well be 
 hidden away. Besides, there is no more setting 
 up of that ensanguined stake, no more firing at 
 a human target, as would likely have taken 
 place had the pale-faced courier been their cap- 
 tive. Instead, a certain restlessness, with signs 
 of apprehension, is observed among themselves 
 throughout all the day, almost proclaiming his 
 escape. 
 
 In Don Estevan's tent it is discussed, and 
 this conclusion come to, giving joy to all. But 
 to none as to his own daughter. All day a 
 
 16 
 
242 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 prey to keen, heart-sickening anxiety, how glad 
 is she at hearing the gambusino say : 
 
 " I 'm sure the seilorito has got safe away, 
 and is now on the road to Arispe. Were it not 
 so, we'd have seen him ere this — tied to that 
 accursed stake and riddled with bullets, as the 
 others. The brutes meant doing the same with 
 me ; had almost begun it, when, thanks to the 
 Virgin, there came a slip between cup and lip. 
 And I think we may thank her now for giving 
 a like chance to the brave lad. Santos Dios ! 
 he deserves it." 
 
 Cheering words to Gertrude, who can scarce 
 resist rushing up to the speaker and giving him 
 a kiss for them. Chaste kiss it would be, for 
 the gambusino is neither young nor handsome. 
 She contents herself by saying : 
 
 " Oh, sir! if he get safe to Arispe, you shall 
 be paid for your saddle ten times over. I 'm 
 sure father will not grudge that." 
 
 "Saddle, nifia lindissima!" exclaims Vicente, 
 with a quizzical smile ; " that 's nought to me. 
 I'd be glad to sacrifice a hundred such — ay, a 
 
IN PAINFUL SUSPENSE. 
 
 thousand, if I could afford it, for him you seem 
 so interested in. His life's too precious to be 
 weighed in the scale against all the horsegear 
 in the world." 
 
 All signify approval of these generous senti- 
 ments, so pleasing to the youth's father who 
 tacitly listens. And the brief dialogue over, 
 they turn to discussing the chances of relief 
 reaching them, now for the first time seeming 
 favourable. 
 
 " If," says Don Estevan, hopeful as any, "he 
 meet no accident before arriving at Arispe, then 
 we may count on receiving succour. There 's 
 but one thing we have to fear — time ! Nor 
 need we fear that if Colonel Requenes be 
 there with his regiment. By ill fortune he may 
 not. 
 
 " What reason have you for thinking he may 
 not?" asks Robert Tresillian. 
 
 " I recall his telling me, just before we 
 started, that there was a likelihood of his being 
 ordered to Guaymas, to assist in suppressing a 
 reported rising of the Yaquis Indians. If he 
 
 16—2 
 
244 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 has gone thither we'll be no better off than 
 before." 
 
 " But the people of Arispe — surely they will 
 not be indifferent to our situation ? " 
 
 It is the Englishman who interrogates. 
 
 "Ah, true," returns the Mexican, correcting 
 himself, as a reassured expression comes over 
 his countenance. " They will not. I did not 
 think of that. I see it now." 
 
 " 'T is not for us and ours alone we may 
 expect them to bestir themselves ; but for their 
 own relatives and friends. Think, amigo mio ! 
 There isn't one of our following but has left 
 some one behind who should rush to the rescue 
 soon as hearing how things stand." 
 
 "You're right, Don Roberto. Whether the 
 soldiers be there or not Arispe and its sur- 
 roundings can surely furnish force enough to 
 effect our deliverance. We must have patience 
 -—hope and pray for it." 
 
 " Dear husband," here interposes the seiiora, 
 "you seem to forget my brother, Juliano, and 
 his three hundred peones. At least half of 
 
IN PAINFUL SUSPENSE. 213 
 
 them are brave fellows, a match for any savages 
 as these who surround us. If Henrique succeed 
 in reaching Arispe, he will go on to my brother's 
 hacienda, soldiers or no soldiers." 
 
 This speech from an unexpected quarter 
 further heightens their hopes, already rapidly 
 rising. They almost feel as if the siege was 
 being raised, and themselves about to continue 
 their long-delayed journey. 
 
 A like sentiment pervades the people all 
 through the camp. In every shed and booth 
 is a group conversing on the same topic, and 
 much in a similar way; all with trusting reliance 
 on the friends left behind, confident they will 
 not fail them. 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 At this self-same hour the feeling in the 
 Coyotero camp is quite the contrary: instead of 
 confidence, there is doubt, even apprehension. 
 The white men's messenger — for they are sure 
 he must have been this — has got through their 
 lines, clear away, and well do they comprehend 
 the consequences. 
 
246 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 They know the miners come from Arispe — • 
 marks on the wagons and other chattels tell 
 them that — and the pale -face courier will be 
 now hastening- thither. On such a swift steed 
 he will reach it in quick time ; and, with the 
 tale which he has to tell, alike quick will be 
 the response : a rescuing host in rush for Nau- 
 champa-tepetl. It may even arrive before the 
 return of their raiders from the Horcasitas. 
 
 Thus apprehensive, on the day and night 
 following the escape of Henry Tresillian, and 
 for many days and nights after, there is as 
 much, if not more, anxiety in the camp of the 
 besiegers as in that of the besieged. 
 
 The latter fear but famine ; the former, fire 
 and sword. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 FRIENDS IX FEAR. 
 
 "Glad to see you, Sefior Juliano ! It's not 
 often you honour Arispe with your presence." 
 
 Colonel Requcnes is the speaker, he spoken 
 to being a gentleman of middle age, in civilian 
 costume, the dress of a hacicndado. It is Don 
 Juliano Romero, brother of the Seiiora Vil- 
 lanueva, the owner of a large ganaderia or 
 grazing estate, some six or seven miles out of 
 Arispe. 
 
 "True," he admits, "nor would you see me 
 now, only that this thing begins to look 
 serious." 
 
 "What thing?" asks the Colonel, half di- 
 
 vining it. 
 
 11 No news from Villanucva I came to see 
 
 if you've had any." 
 
 247 
 
248 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 "Not a word; and you're right about it's 
 beginning to look serious. I was just talking of 
 it to your son there, before you came in." 
 
 They are in a large apartment in Colonel 
 Requenes' official residence, his receiving-room, 
 into which the ganadero has just been ushered ; 
 the son alluded to being there already, a youth 
 of some sixteen summers, in military uniform, 
 with sabretasche and other insignia proclaiming 
 him an aide-de-camp. After greeting his father, 
 he has resumed his seat by a table on which 
 are several open despatches, with which he 
 seems to busy himself. 
 
 "Por Dios ! I cannot tell what to make of 
 it," pursues the ganadero; "they must have 
 reached the mine, wherever it is, long ago. 
 Time enough for word to have been brought 
 back. And my sister not writing to me, that 's 
 a puzzle ! She promised she would soon as 
 they got there." 
 
 " And Villanueva himself promised he would 
 write to me. Besides, the people, many of them, 
 have left friends behind, relatives out in the 
 
FRIENDS IX FEAR. 219 
 
 neigbourhood of the old minera. Some of them 
 are in Arispe every day, inquiring if there be 
 any news of those gone north ; so it 's clear 
 they Ye had no word from them either." 
 
 " What do you suppose can be the cause, 
 vequenes . 
 
 " I Ye been trying to think. At first I 
 fancied the great drought that 's been, with 
 every stream and pond dried up, might have 
 forced them out of their way for water, and so 
 lengthened their journey. But even with that 
 there 's been time enough for them to have 
 reached their destination long since, and us to 
 have heard of it. As we haven't, I fear it 's 
 something worse." 
 
 " What 's your conjecture, Colonel ? " 
 
 " I 'm almost afraid to venture on conjectures, 
 but they force themselves on me, Don Juliano ; 
 and in the one shape you will yourself, no 
 doubt, be thinking of." 
 
 " I comprehend. Los Indios ! " 
 
 "Los Indios" echoes the officer; "just that. 
 Villanueva told me the new-discovered veta lies 
 
250 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 a long way to the north-west, beyond the head- 
 waters of the Horcasitas. That's all country 
 claimed by the Apaches of different bands ; as 
 you know, every one of them determinedly 
 hostile to the whites, especially to us Mexicans, 
 for reasons you may have heard of." 
 
 " I know all that ; you allude to the affair of 
 Gil Perez?" 
 
 "I do ; and my fear is our friends may have 
 encountered these red-handed savages. If so, 
 Heaven have mercy on them, and God heip 
 them ; for He only can." 
 
 " Encountering them would mean being at- 
 tacked by them ? " 
 
 " Surely so ; and destroyed if defeated : the 
 men butchered, the women and children carried 
 into captivity." 
 
 At this the young aide-de-camp turns round 
 on his chair, his face showing an expression of 
 pain. He says nothing, however, but continues 
 an earnest listener to the conversation. 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! " exclaims the ganadero, 
 with a groan, " I hope it has not come to that." 
 
FRIEND3 IN FEAR. 251 
 
 " I hope so too, and don't yet think it has ; 
 only that it's probable enough — too probable. 
 Still, even if set upon, they would resist ; and 
 when one comes to remember how many there 
 wore of them, they ought to make a stout 
 resistance." 
 
 " Many of them," rejoins Don Juliano, "both 
 miners and vaqueros, are of approved valour, 
 and were well armed. I was at the old minera 
 when they started off, and saw that for myself." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but their holding out would 
 depend on the sort of ground they chanced to be 
 on when attacked, if they have been attacked. 
 By good luck, our mutual brother-in-law is 
 no novice to Indian tactics, but a soldier of 
 experience, who '11 know how to act in any 
 emergency." 
 
 " True ; but the worst of it is his being 
 embarrassed by having so many women and 
 children with him ; among them, alas! my sister 
 and niece. Pobrccitas /" 
 
 Again the young officer shifts uneasily on his 
 chair, the expression of pain still upon his face. 
 
252 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 For he is the cousin whom Gertrude was said 
 to have forgotten. 
 
 " They took a number of large vehicles 
 with them ? " says the Colonel, interrogatively. 
 " American wagons, did they not ? " 
 
 " They did." 
 
 " How many ? Can you remember ? " 
 
 " Six or seven, I think." 
 
 " And a large pack-train ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the atajo seemed to number about 
 fourscore mules." 
 
 For a moment the Colonel is silent, seeming 
 to reflect, then says : 
 
 "Villanueva would know how to throw these 
 car r os into corral, and with so many pack- 
 saddles ought to make a defencible breastwork, 
 to say nothing of the bales and boxes of goods. 
 If not taken by surprise while en route, he'd be 
 sure of using that precaution. So protected, 
 and armed as they were, they ought to hold 
 good their ground against any number of red- 
 skins. The worst danger would be their 
 getting dropped on in some place without water. 
 
FEIENDS IN FEAR 253 
 
 In that case surrender would be the necessary 
 result, and surrender to Apaches were as death 
 itself." 
 
 " Santissima ! yes — we all know that. But, 
 Requenes, do you really think we 've to fear 
 their having met such a disaster ? " 
 
 " I don't know what to think. I 'd fain not 
 fear it, but the thing looks grave, no matter in 
 what way one views it. There should have 
 been word from them several days ago ; none 
 coming, what other can be the explanation ? " 
 
 "Ay, true; what other ?" rejoins the ganadero, 
 despondently. " But what ought we to do ? " 
 he adds. 
 
 " I 've been considering that for some time. 
 but couldn't make up my mind. I 've made it 
 up now." 
 
 " To what ? " 
 
 " To sending one of my squadrons along the 
 route they took ; with orders to follow it up, if 
 need be, to the new-discovered mine ; at all 
 events, till it be ascertained what hinders our 
 hearincr from them." 
 
254 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " That seems the best and only way," returns 
 Don Juliano. " But when do you propose your 
 men to start ? " 
 
 " Immediately — soon as they can be ready. 
 For such an expedition, most of the way through 
 a very wilderness, they will need supplies, how- 
 ever lightly equipped. But I will issue the 
 order this moment. Cecilio," to the aide-de- 
 camp, " hasten down to the cuartel> and tell 
 Major Garcia to come to me at once." 
 
 The young officer, rising at the words and 
 clapping on his shako, makes straight for the 
 outer door. But before stepping over its 
 threshold, he sees that which causes him to 
 return instantly to the receiving-room, to the 
 surprise of those he had left there. 
 
 " What is it ? " demands the Colonel. 
 
 " Look there ! " 
 
 He points out through the open window 
 over the plaza in front of it. Springing from 
 their seats and moving up to it, they perceive 
 a young man on horseback advancing towards 
 the house ; his face pale, and with a wayworn 
 
TRESILLIAN SUI ' ESS] IX.- p 254 
 
FRIENDS IN FEAR, 
 
 loo 
 
 look, his dress dust-stained, and otherwise out 
 of order, the horse he bestrides steaming at the 
 nostrils, froth clouted, and with palpitating 
 Hanks. 
 
 " Caramba /" exclaims Colonel Requenes. 
 " That 's young Tresillian, the son of Villanu- 
 evas' partner ! '* 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 TO THE RESCUE, 
 
 In an instant after Henry Tresillian is inside 
 the room, warmly received by both the Colonel 
 and ganadcro ; less so by the young officer, 
 though the two had been formerly bosom 
 friends. The coolness of Cecilio Romero can 
 be easily understood ; but in the scene which 
 succeeds, with hasty questioning, and answers 
 alike hurried, no one takes note of it. 
 
 "You bring news — bad news, I fear?" says 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " Bad, yes. I *m sorry having to say so," 
 returns the messenger. "This is for you, senor 
 — from Don Estevan Villanueva. 'T will tell 
 you all." 
 
 He pulls a folded paper from under his jacket, 
 and hands it to the Colonel. 
 
 256 
 
TO THE RESCUE. 257 
 
 Breaking it open, the latter reads aloud ; 
 Romero standing by and listening, for its 
 contents concern them all. 
 
 Thus ran it : 
 
 " Hcrmano mio (brother), — 
 
 "If Heaven permit this to reach your hands, 
 't will tell you how we are situated — in extreme 
 peril, I grieve to say, surrounded by Apache 
 Indians, the most hostile and cruel of all — the 
 Coyotcros. Where and how I need not specify. 
 The brave boy who bears this, if successful in 
 putting it into your hands, will give you all 
 details. When you 've got them, I know how 
 you will act, and that no appeal from me is 
 necessary. On you alone depends our safety 
 —our lives. Without your help we are lost. 
 
 " ESTEVAN VlLLANUEVA." 
 
 " They shall not be lost," cries the Colonel, 
 greatly agitated — " not one of them, if the 
 Zacatecas Lancers can save them. I go to their 
 aid ; will start at once. Away, Cecilio ! down 
 
 17 
 
258 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 to the cuartel ! Bring Major Garcia back with 
 you immediately. Now, senorito," he adds, 
 turning to Henry Tresillian, "the details. Tell 
 us all. But, first, where are our friends in such 
 peril? In what place are they surrounded?" 
 
 " In a place strange enough, Seiior Colonel," 
 answers the young Englishman. " On the top 
 of a mountain." 
 
 " On the top of a mountain ! " echoes the 
 Colonel. " A strange situation, indeed. What 
 sort of mountain ? " 
 
 " One standing alone on the llanos, out of 
 sight of any other, 'T is known as the Cerro 
 Perdido." 
 
 " Ah ! I ve heard of it." 
 
 "I too," says xWz. ganadero. 
 
 " Up somewhere near the sources of the 
 Horcasitas. A singular eminence — a mesa, I 
 believe. But how came they to go there ? 
 It must be some way off the route to their 
 intended destination." 
 
 "We were forced thither, senor, through 
 want of water. The guide advised it, and his 
 
TO THE RESCUE. 259 
 
 advice would have been for the best, but for 
 the ill luck of the savages chancing to come 
 alons^ that way." 
 
 " Muckacko, I won't confuse you with further 
 questioning, but leave you to tell your tale. 
 We listen. First have a capita of Catalan 
 brandy to refresh you. You seem in need of 
 it." 
 
 " There s one needs refreshing as much as 
 myself, Senor Colonel ; ay, more, and more 
 deserves it." 
 
 •'What one! Who?" 
 
 " My horse out there. But for him I would 
 not be here." 
 
 "Ah! that's your grand steed," says the 
 Colonel, looking out ; " I remember him — Cru- 
 sader. He does seem to need it, and shall 
 have it. Sargento ! " This in loud call to an 
 orderly sergeant in waiting outside, who, in- 
 stantly showing his face at the door, receives 
 command to see the black horse attended to. 
 
 " Now, muchacho viio ! proceed." 
 
 Henry Tresillian, still speaking hurriedly for 
 
 17 — 2 
 
2G0 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 reasons comprehensible, runs over all that has 
 occurred to the caravan, since its departure 
 from the worked-out mine near Arispe, till its 
 arrival at the Lost Mountain. Then the unex- 
 pected approach of the Indians, resulting in the 
 retreat to the summit of the Cerro, with the 
 other incidents and events succeeding — to that, 
 the latest, of himself being lowered down the 
 cliff, and his after-escape through the fleetness 
 of his matchless steed. 
 
 " How many of the Indians are there ? " asks 
 the Colonel. " Can you tell that, seiiorito ? " 
 
 " Between four and five hundred, we sup- 
 posed ; but they were not all there when I left. 
 Some days before half their number went off 
 on a marauding expedition southward ; so our 
 guide believed, as they were dressed and painted 
 as when on the war-trail." 
 
 " These had not returned when you came 
 away r 
 
 " No, Sefior Colonel ; no sign of them." 
 
 " I see it all now, and pity the poor people 
 who live on the lower Horcasitas. That's 
 
TO THE RESCUE. 261 
 
 where they were bent for, no doubt. The 
 more reason for our making; haste to reach the 
 Cerro Perdido. We may catch these raiders 
 on return. Sarjento / " This again in call to 
 the orderly, who responds instantly by present- 
 ing himself in the doorway. 
 
 " Summon the bugler ! Give him orders to 
 sound the 'assembly' at once. We must start 
 without a moment's delay. How fortunate 
 those Yaquis kept quiet, else I would be now 
 operating around Guaymas." 
 
 "We must, Requeiies. But will your regi- 
 ment be enough ? How many men can you 
 muster ?" 
 
 " Five hundred. But there 's the battery of 
 moutain howitzers — fifty men more. Of course, 
 I take that along." 
 
 "And of course I go too," says the ganadcro ; 
 " and, to make sure of our having force suffi- 
 cient, can take with me at least a hundred good 
 men, the pick of my vaqueros. Fortunately 
 they're now all within easy summons, assembled 
 at my house for the kerradcro" (cattle branding), 
 
2G2 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " which was to come off to-morrow. That can 
 be postponed. Has fa lucgo, Colonel ; I ride 
 back home to bring them ; so doubt not my 
 having them here, and ready for the route soon 
 as your soldiers. 
 
 11 Bueno ! Whether needed or not, it will be 
 well to have your valiant vaqueros with us. I '11 
 welcome them." 
 
 Instantly after the plaza of Arispe displays 
 an animated scene, people crowding into it from 
 all parts, with air excited. For the report, 
 brought by the young Englishman, has gone 
 forth and all abroad, spreading like wildfire, — 
 Villanueva and Tresillian, with all their people, 
 surrounded by savages ! "Los Indies!" is the 
 cry carried from point to point, striking terror 
 into the hearts of the Arispenos, as though the 
 dreaded red-skins, instead of being at an un- 
 known distance off, were at the gates of their 
 city. 
 
 Then succeeds loud cheering as the bugle- 
 call proclaims the approach of the lanzcros, 
 troop after troop filing into the plaza, and 
 
TO THE HESCUE. 2G3 
 
 forming line in front of their colonel's quarters, 
 all in complete equipment, and ready for the 
 route. 
 
 More cheering as Don Juliano Romero 
 comes riding in at the head of his hundred 
 retainers ; vaqueros and ranchcros, in the pic- 
 turesque costume of the country, armed to the 
 teeth, and mounted on their mustangs, fresh, 
 fiery, and prancing. 
 
 Still another cheer, as the battery of moun- 
 tain howitzers rolls in and takes its place in the 
 line. Then a loud chorus of vivas ! as the 
 march commences, prolonged and carried on 
 as the column moves through the street ; the 
 crowd following far beyond the suburbs, to take 
 leave of it with prayers upon their lips for the 
 successful issue of an expedition in which many 
 of them are but too painfully interested. 
 
 3 
 
 1 " . • S) 
 z 3 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE RAIDERS RETURNED. 
 
 Another ten days have elapsed, and they on 
 the Cerro Perdido are held there rigorously as 
 ever ; a strong guard kept constantly stationed 
 at both points where it is possible for them to 
 reach the plain. 
 
 In the interval no incident of any note has 
 arisen to vary the monotony of their lives. 
 One day is just as the other, with little to 
 occupy them, save the watch by the ravine's 
 head, which needs to be maintained with vigi- 
 lance unabated. 
 
 But much chancre has arisen both in their 
 circumstances and appearance. With provi- 
 sion wellnigh out, they have been for days on 
 less than half allowance, and famine has set its 
 
 264 
 
THE RAIDERS RET VEXED. 265 
 
 stamp on their features. Pallid, hollow cheeks, 
 with eyes sunken in their sockets, are seen all 
 around ; and some of the weaker ones begin to 
 totter in their steps, till the place more re- 
 sembles the grounds of an hospital than an 
 encampment of travellers. They have miscal- 
 culated their resources, which gave out sooner 
 than expected. 
 
 In this lamentably forlorn condition they are 
 still uncertain as to the fate of their messenger, 
 their doubts about his safety increasing every 
 day — every hour. Not that they suppose him 
 to have fallen into the hands of the Coyoteros. 
 On the contrary, they are convinced of his 
 having escaped, else some signs of his capture 
 would have been apparent in the Indian camp, 
 and none such are observed. But other con- 
 tingencies may have arisen : an accident to 
 himself, or his horse, delaying him on the route, 
 if not stopping him altogether. 
 
 Or may it be, as Don Estevan has said, that 
 Colonel Requeues with his soldiers is absent 
 from Arispe, and there is a difficulty in raising 
 
2G6 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 a force of civilians sufficient for effecting their 
 rescue ? 
 
 These conjectures, with many others, pass 
 through their minds, producing a despondency, 
 now at its darkest and deepest. For at first, 
 in their impatience, blind to probabilities, they 
 fancied theirs a winged messenger — a Mercury, 
 who should have brought them succour long 
 since. That bright dream is passed, and the 
 reaction has set in, gloomy as shadow of death 
 itself. 
 
 Nor seems there to be much cheer in the 
 camp of their besiegers. They can look down 
 upon it from a distance near enough to distin- 
 guish the individual forms of the savages, and 
 note all their actions in the open. Through 
 the telescope can be read even the expressions 
 on their features, showing that they, too, have 
 their anxieties and apprehensions ; no doubt 
 from the black horse and his rider having got 
 away from them. 
 
 Their scouts are still observed to come and 
 go. Some are sent northward, others to the 
 
TIIE RAIDERS RETURNED. 267 
 
 south ; the last evidently to look out for the 
 return of the raiding party gone clown the 
 Horcasitas. 
 
 Another clay passes, and they are seen coming 
 back, at a pace which betokens their bringing 
 a report of an important nature. That it is a 
 welcome one to their comrades in the camp can 
 be told by their shouts of triumph as they 
 approach. 
 
 Soon after they upon the mesa arc made 
 aware of the cause, by seeing the red marau- 
 ders themselves coming on towards the camp, 
 in array very different from that when leaving 
 it. Instead of only their arms and light equip- 
 ments, every man of them is now laden with 
 spoil, every horse besides his rider carrying a 
 load, either on withers or croup. And they 
 have other horses with them now — a caballada 
 — mules, too, all under pack and burden. 
 
 No, not all. As the long straggling line 
 draws closer to the Cerro, they on its summit 
 see a number of these animals bearing on their 
 backs something more than the loot of plun- 
 
2G8 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 dered houses. They see women, most of them 
 appearing to be young girls. 
 
 •As they are conducted on to the camp, and 
 inside its enclosure, Don Estevan, viewing them 
 through his telescope, can trace upon their 
 persons, as their features, all the signs and 
 lines proclaiming utter despair : dresses torn, 
 hair hanging dishevelled, and eyes downcast, 
 with not a ray or spark of hope in them. 
 
 Others look through the glass, to be pained 
 by the heart-saddening spectacle ; each of the 
 married ones, as he views it, thinking of his 
 own wife or daughter, in fear their fate may be 
 the same — a fate too horrid to be dwelt upon 
 in thought, much less to be talked about. 
 
 This day they are not permitted to see more. 
 Twilight is already on, and night's darkness, 
 almost instantly succeeding, shuts out from 
 their view everything below. 
 
 But if they see not, they can hear. There 
 are continuous noises in the camp throughout 
 the rest of the night — cries and joyous ejacula- 
 tions. The Coyoteros have made a grand coup: 
 
THE HAIDERS RETURNED. 269 
 
 much plunder acquired, many prisoners taken, 
 and pale-faced foes slain, almost to a glut of 
 vengeance. They are greatly jubilant, and 
 yield themselves to a very paean of rejoicing, 
 their boasts and exulting shouts at intervals 
 reverberating along: the cliffs. 
 
 It is another night of carousal with them, as 
 that when they first sate down to the siege ; for 
 among the proceeds of their recent maraud are 
 several pig-skins of aguardiente, and this fiery 
 spirit, freely distributed, excites them almost to 
 madness. 
 
 So loud are their yells, so angrily, vengefully 
 intoned, that they who listen above begin to 
 fear they may at length become reckless, and, 
 coute que cotUe, risk the assault so long un- 
 attempted. In such numbers now, feeling their 
 strength, they may hold a little loss light. Be- 
 sides, there is still that apprehension from the 
 side of Arispe ; it may further urge them to a 
 desperate deed, which, if not done at once, must 
 be left undone, and the siege ingloriously 
 abandoned. 
 
270 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 These are but the conjectures of the besieged, 
 who, acting upon them, keep watch throughout 
 the remainder of the night. Never more 
 wakeful, seemingly, though never less needed ; 
 for up till the hour of dawn, no assailant is seen 
 approaching the gorge, no sound heard of any 
 one attempting to scale that steep acclivity. 
 
 Of those fearing that they will try, Pedro 
 Vicente is not among the number. Endea- 
 vouring to give confidence to his doubting 
 companions, he says, 
 
 " I know the Coyoteros too well to suppose 
 them such fools. Not all the aguardiente in 
 Sonora will make them mad enough to expose 
 themselves to our battery of stones. They don't 
 forget our having it here, and that we 're watch- 
 ing their every movement; ready to rain a 
 storm of rocks on them if they but come under 
 its range. So, camarados, keep up heart and 
 courage ! We 've nothing more to fear to-day 
 than we had yesterday. That's hunger, not 
 their spears or scalping-knives." 
 
 Fortified by the gambusiuds words, they to 
 
THE RAIDERS RETURNED. 271 
 
 whom they are addressed feel their confidence 
 restored — enough to inspire them with further 
 patience and endurance. 
 
 , 1 r 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE RESCUERS EN ROUTE. 
 
 " Soh ! that 's the Lost Mountain, is it ? " 
 
 " It is, Colonel." 
 
 " Gracias a Dios / Glad we 've sighted it at 
 last. How far do you think we're from it, 
 seiiorito ? Nigh twenty miles, I take it ; though 
 it looks nearer." 
 
 "'Tis all of twenty miles, Colonel; so our 
 guide said when we first saw it from the place." 
 
 " I can quite believe it. On these high plains 
 distances are very deceptive; but my experience 
 enables me to judge pretty correctly." 
 
 The dialogue is between Colonel Requenes 
 and Henry Tresillian ; the latter acting as guide 
 to the expedition en route to release those im- 
 prisoned on the Cerro Perdido. Others are 
 
 272 
 
THE JiESCCEJiS EN ROUTE. 273 
 
 beside them ; Don Juliano with his son, the 
 young aide-de-camp, and several officers of the 
 staff; their escort forming an advanced guard. 
 Not far behind it, the howitzer battery, followed 
 by the lancer regiment in open order ; then 
 Romero's irregulars, closed by a troop of lancers 
 as rear-guard, completing the marching column. 
 
 All are at halt, brought to it as soon as the 
 Cerro was sighted. They have been on march 
 from an early hour by moonlight, and as the sun, 
 now rising, has lit up the plain afar, the solitary 
 eminence can be clearly seen. As may be de- 
 duced from the young Englishman's words, the 
 point they have arrived at is the same where 
 the caravan had temporarily come to a stop — 
 the very spot itself; for close by is the tree 
 bearing the initials of the gambusino. 
 
 "Well, caballcros" continues the Colonel, 
 "we've done our best so far; pray God to good 
 purpose. Let us hope we 're in time. I wonder 
 how it is ? What's your thought, Romero ? 
 
 " I have none, Requeues — only hopes that 
 
 they 've held out." 
 
 iS 
 
274 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " I wish," pursues the Colonel, in half soliloquy, 
 " we but knew for certain ; 't would make an 
 important difference as to how I dispose of my 
 force. Should they be still there " 
 
 " Sefior Colonel," interposes the youthful 
 guide, "if you'll let me have a look through 
 your telescope, I think I can settle that 
 point." 
 
 This, as he sees the commanding officer 
 drawing his field-glass from its case. 
 
 "In welcome, sefiorito. Here!" and he 
 hands him the telescope. 
 
 Instantly it is brought to his eye, and eagerly 
 — his fingers trembling as they hold it out. 
 What he hopes to see will tell him that his 
 father and friends still live ; if he sees it not, 
 he will know they are dead ; and she, dearer 
 than all, condemned to a fate far worse ! 
 
 What a change comes over his countenance 
 almost on the instant of his raising the glass to 
 his eye ! Hitherto grave to apprehension, all 
 at once it lights joyously up, as from his lips 
 proceed the words, 
 
THE RESCUERS EN ROUTE. 275 
 
 " They 're still on the mountain ; Heaven be 
 praised ! " 
 
 " If it be so, Heaven deserves praise — all 
 our thanks. But how know you, senorito ? " 
 
 " By the flag ! " 
 
 '•What Hag?" 
 
 "Take the glass, Colonel; look for your- 
 self." 
 
 Receiving back the telescope, and adjusting 
 it to his sight, Requeiies levels it at the Lost 
 Mountain. 
 
 "At the nearest end, up on the summit," 
 pursues Henry Tresillian, instructingly, " you '11 
 see it. It is the flag of Mexico. Don Estevan 
 intended to have raised it over his new mine, 
 and had it hoisted yonder in the hope it might 
 be seen by some white men, and lead to our 
 situation being made known. It has proved of 
 service now ; telling us our friends are still in 
 the land of the living. If they were not it 
 wouldn't be there." 
 
 "You're right, senorito, it wouldn't. And it 
 is there — I see it! — yes, can even make out the 
 
 18—2 
 
276 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 national insignia — the eagle and nopal. We 
 may thank Heaven, indeed." 
 
 " And we do ! " exclaims the ganadcro, raising 
 his hat reverentially, all following his example. 
 
 A thrill of exultation runs like wildfire back- 
 ward on to the extremest rear — a joyous ex- 
 citement, as the soldiers learn they have not 
 made their long march in vain, and that the foe 
 is before them, not far oft. For the banner 
 waving above proclaims the siege still con- 
 tinued, and the Indians keeping it up. 
 
 " They are there," affirms the Colonel, after 
 gazing some time through his glass. " I can 
 see the smoke ascending from their camp fires. 
 No doubt by this they'll be cooking their 
 breakfasts. Well, we won't be in time to hinder 
 their having that meal ; but if they eat dinner 
 this day, without my leave, I shall be willing to 
 throw up my commission as colonel of the 
 Zacatecas Lancers. Now, gentlemen ! " he adds, 
 turning to his staff, and summoning his chief 
 officers around him in council of war, " the 
 enemy is yonder ; no doubt of it. 'T is a 
 

 THE RESCU1 
 
THE RESCUERS EN ROUTE. 277 
 
 question as to how we should advance upon 
 him. Give your opinion, Major Garcia." 
 
 " How many are there supposed to be, 
 Colonel?" asks the major, a sage, grizzled 
 veteran. "Our mode of approaching them 
 should much depend upon that." 
 
 " Unluckily I can't tell," says the Commander- 
 in-chief; "there were wellnigh five hundred 
 all told when together ; but it appears that half 
 went off on a raid down the Horcasitas, the 
 other half remaining to carry on the siege. If 
 the raiders are returned and are now among the 
 besiegers, then we '11 have their full force to deal 
 with, and may expect a sharp fight for it. I 
 know these red-skins of old, the band of the 
 Rattlesnake ; though, as our young friend in- 
 forms me, that worthy has ceased to exist, and 
 the Vulture reigns in his stead. All the worse 
 for us, as Zopilote was the master of Cascabel 
 in tactics, cunning, courage — everything. Never 
 mind, we should only be too glad to meet the 
 renowned warrior, if but for glory's sake." 
 
 While the Colonel is still speaking a voice is 
 
278 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 heard to rearward, with exclamations telling of 
 excitement there. Immediately after a subal- 
 tern officer of the rear-guard advances rapidly 
 to the front, conducting a strange horseman, 
 whose dress, travel-stained, with the sweat and 
 dust upon his horse, betokens him just arrived 
 from a journey long and hurriedly made. A 
 messenger on some errand, which his wan, woe- 
 begone face bespeaks to be of the saddest. 
 
 " Whence come you, amigo ? " demands the 
 commanding officer, as the stranger is brought 
 face to face with him. 
 
 " From Nacomori, on the Horcasitas, Sefior 
 Colonel," is the answer. 
 
 " On what business ? " asks Requeiies, more 
 than half divining it. 
 
 " Oh, sefior, the Indians have been there ; 
 killed scores of our people — children as grown 
 men ; plundered and burnt our houses ; carried 
 off all our young women ; made rack and ruin 
 of everything. I rode to Arispe, hoping to find 
 you there, but you were gone, and I 've has- 
 tened hither after you." 
 
THE RESCUERS EX ROUTE. 
 
 "What Indians? Where did they come 
 
 from ? " 
 
 " From the north, senor ; down the river. 
 Apaches, we thought ; but it was in the night 
 they came upon us, and no one could be sure. 
 When morning came they had gone off with 
 everything." 
 
 " What night ? How long since this oc- 
 curred ? " 
 
 11 The night of Lunes — just four days ago." 
 
 " The raiding party of the Coyoteros, gen- 
 tlemen," says the Colonel to his surrounding. 
 " The time corresponds, the place — everything ; 
 and likely they 've got back, and are now by the 
 Cerro yonder. If so, we have others to rescue 
 beside our own friends ; with chastisement to 
 r nflict on the red-handed marauders, to say 
 nothing of revenge. So much the more reason 
 for our not losing time. Major ! order the 
 regiment to close up and form line. Let the 
 others be drawn in also ; I want to say a word 
 to them." 
 
 With a quickness due to thorough discipline, 
 
2 SO THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the lancers are brought into battle line ; not for 
 fight now, but to receive an address. Thrown 
 forward on one flank, and facing inwards, are 
 the light artillerists ; while on the other in file 
 form are Romero's irregulars. 
 
 Placing himself in a position to be heard by 
 all, the Commander-in-chief cries out : 
 
 " Camarados ! at the base of yonder hill, 
 where you see smoke rising, is the enemy. 
 Apaches — Coyoteros — as we know, knowing 
 them also to be the cruellest of all the savages 
 that infest our frontier. To say nothing of the 
 glory gained in conquering them, 'twill be 
 doing humanity a service to destroy them ; and 
 never more than now has there been reason. 
 
 " This gentleman " — he points to the newly- 
 arrived messenger, still on horseback and near 
 by — " has brought news of a bloodthirsty mas- 
 sacre they have just committed at Nacomori, 
 on the Horcasitas, where women, scores, have 
 been carried off. Like enough they 're all over 
 yonder now, and we may be in time to release 
 these prisoners, and avenge the murders that 
 
THE RESCUERS EN ROUTE. 2S1 
 
 have been clone. The only fear is of the 
 Indians getting away from us. Mounted on 
 their swift mustangs, and leaving all encum- 
 brances behind, that is still possible enough. 
 But to prevent it, I intend dividing my force, 
 and sending detachments around to intercept 
 and cut off their retreat on every route they 
 may take. We must deal them a death-blow, 
 and I now call on you — every man to do his 
 best. Remember how many of our people, 
 perhaps many of your own relatives, have 
 fallen victims to the ferocity of these ruthless 
 marauders. Think of the crime we have just 
 heard of at Nacomori. Think of it, ccunarados, 
 and strike home ! " 
 
 An enthusiastic cheer hails the Colonel's 
 speech ; and while it is still ringing commands 
 arc issued for the disposition of the advance — 
 the movement soon after commencing. 
 
 o 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 SUCCOUR IN SIGHT. 
 
 Not an hour of daylight now passes, scarce a 
 minute, without Don Estevan Villanueva or 
 Robert Tresillian having the telescope to their 
 eyes, scanning the plain southward. For days 
 this has been their practice, up to that on which 
 the red marauders are seen returning from their 
 murderous expedition. 
 
 And on the following morning at earliest 
 dawn the two — Pedro Vicente along with them 
 — take their stand on an outward projection of 
 the mesa, which commands a view of the llano 
 all round its southern side, at the same time 
 overlooking the Coyotero camp. 
 
 They have not been long there when, under 
 the first rays of the rising sun, they see some- 
 
 282 
 
SUCCOUR IN SIGHT. 
 
 thing sparkle which had never been observed 
 by them before, though in a place with which 
 they are familiar — the same where they first 
 sighted the Cerro Perdido. Nor is the glancing 
 object a single one, for there are many shining 
 points as stars in a constellation. They are 
 visible to the naked eye, for as yet none of 
 them have looked through the telescope. As 
 Don Estevan is levelling it, the gatnbusino 
 says : 
 
 " Looks like the glitter of arms and accoutre- 
 ments. Pray the Virgin it be that !" 
 
 " It is that!" cries Don Estevan, at the first 
 glance through the glass. "Arms, and in the 
 hands of men. I can make out a body of horse 
 in uniform — soldiers. Requenes and his regi- 
 ment ; he to a certainty. At length— at last — 
 we may hope to be rescued, and our long 
 imprisonment brought to an end." 
 
 His words, spoken excitedly and aloud, 
 attract those who are sauntering near, and soon 
 most upon the mesa come clustering round him. 
 To see with eyes unaided that metallic sheen, 
 
284 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 as they eagerly hearken to its interpretation. 
 Don Estevan, with the telescope still held aloft, 
 goes on speaking : 
 
 " Yes ; 't is they ! I can see they carry lances, 
 by the sun glinting on the blades above their 
 heads. They can be no other than the Zaca- 
 tecas regiment, with my brother-in-law at its 
 head. Your son, Tresillian, is safe ; their being 
 yonder tells of his having reached Arispe. 
 Brave youth ! we all owe him our blessing." 
 
 " And we give him that, with our gratitude ! " 
 shouts Pedro Vicente, the others enthusiastically 
 echoing his words. 
 
 There is a momentary lull, all ears intently 
 listening for what Don Estevan may next say ; 
 which is : 
 
 " They appear to be extending line, and look 
 as if there were a good six or seven hundred. 
 Ah ! now I note there are others besides the 
 lancers — a battery of brass guns — that's what's 
 flashing back the sun. And a body of horse- 
 men, not in uniform. They seem to be at 
 halt. Why and for what?" 
 
SUCCOUR IN SIGHT. 2S5 
 
 " Like enough," suggests Tresillian, " the)- Vc 
 made out our flag telling them we are still here 
 Requenes, with others of his officers, will have 
 telescopes too, and must see it, as also that 
 smoke over the camp below. It will tell them 
 our besiegers are there also. That would 
 cause them to halt — to concert measures for the 
 attack." 
 
 "You're right, Don Roberto, it must be as 
 you say. But now there 's a movement among 
 them. The mass is breaking up into detach- 
 ments, some commencing to march to the right, 
 others to the left. Ah ! I see it all : they mean 
 making a surround, cutting off the retreat of 
 our enemy. Caramba ! Requenes is a cunning 
 strategist, as I always believed him." 
 
 With the glass still at his eye, the old soldier 
 can see every movement made, comprehending 
 all, and explaining them in succession to the 
 audience around him. A party of lancers, 
 seemingly a squadron, separating from the main 
 body, moves off to the right, another party of 
 like strength proceeding in the opposite dircc- 
 
286 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 tion. Then other detachments follow these, as 
 if to form an enfilading line when the time 
 comes for it. But the central force remains 
 stationary long after the flanking parties have 
 been extended, and is only seen to advance 
 when they are far away. These make wide 
 circuit, evidently designed to embrace the 
 Coyoteros' camp, and, if need be, the Cerro 
 itself. 
 
 And now they draw nearer till all upon the 
 mesa, without any artificial aid, can see they are 
 men, and as such surely friends hastening to 
 their rescue. 
 
 To their joy they also perceive that the occu- 
 pants of the Indian camp are as yet unaware of 
 what is approaching. Five hundred feet below, 
 their view is more limited ; and long before the 
 soldiers become visible to them, they above 
 see the latter distinctly, and understand their 
 strategic scheme. 
 
 Meanwhile the savages are not acting in the 
 ordinary way : signs of commotion are observ- 
 able among them, as if some change were 
 
SUCCOUR IN SIGHT. 
 
 intended. Horses are being caught and capa- 
 risoned, while the newly acquired animals from 
 the Horcasitas are again loaded with the spoils, 
 those that carried the captives being also made 
 ready for the road. 
 
 The women are themselves seen within the 
 corral; as on the evening before, looking 
 forlorn, every one of them a picture of despair. 
 They arc to be taken they know not whither, 
 but to a place from which they have no hope of 
 return. Little dream they that friends are so near. 
 
 "What a pity we can't let them know of 
 rescue being at hand ! " says Don Estevan. 
 " They could hear us if we call to them, but 
 some of the Coyotcros are acquainted with our 
 lancruasfe, and it would warn them also." 
 
 "No fear of that," affirms the gambusino ; 
 " I think I can speak a tongue that the red- 
 skins won't understand, and the women will." 
 
 " What tongue ? " asks Don Estevan. 
 
 "The Opata. Some of those girls are 
 mestizos, and should know the lingo of their 
 mothers." 
 
2S3 THE LOST MOUNT A IX. 
 
 " Try them with it, then, Don Pedro." 
 11 With your worship's leave, I will." 
 Saying which, the gambiisino advances to the 
 outermost edge of the cliff, and, with all the 
 strength of his lungs, utters some words alto- 
 gether unintelligible to those around him, but 
 evidently understood by the captives below. 
 Several of them on hearing it spring sud- 
 denly to their feet, looking up in the direction 
 w r hence it came, surprised to see men above, 
 hitherto unobserved by them, and still more to 
 hear speech addressed to themselves. Hope 
 and joy become mingled with their astonish- 
 ment, when the gambusino goes on in the same 
 vernacular to tell them how it is, and that 
 succour is near. 
 
 Though listening all the while, not one of the 
 Apaches appears to comprehend a word of 
 what Vicente is saying. They suppose it a 
 mere expression of sympathy ; and, without 
 giving heed to it, proceed with their prepara- 
 tions for departure. They are evidently bent 
 upon this, though it may be but the raiders 
 
SUCCOUR IX SIGHT. 289 
 
 about to continue on to their home in Apacheria. 
 Still, other signs seem to indicate a general 
 clearing out of the camp ; for now the whole 
 cabal lada of horses are being brought in saddled 
 and bridled, while everything portable in the 
 way of goods is turned out within the corral, 
 packed as if for transportation. 
 
 And in reality it is their intention to abandon 
 both camp and siege, though reluctantly, and 
 hating to surrender a chance of revenue that 
 had seemed so sure and near. But they have 
 had enough to content them for the time, and 
 there is a fear which forces them to forego it. 
 Ever since Henry Tresillian escaped them they 
 have been nervously apprehensive, correctly sur- 
 mising him a messenger. He must lonsf since 
 have reached Arispe, and may at any moment 
 reappear, guiding back a force sufficient to 
 overwhelm them. 
 
 While yet unrecovered from their night's 
 carousal, it is as the fulfilment of a dream, their 
 worst apprehensions realized, as they behold 
 coming towards them, though still far off, a 
 
 19 
 
290 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 body of men, uniformed and in serried array, 
 with pennoned lances borne aloft! 
 
 The sight is not so much a surprise, neither 
 docs it produce a panic ; for they who approach 
 seem not in such numbers as to overawe 
 them. The detached parties sent around are 
 not within their view, and with their habitual 
 contempt for the Mexican soldados, they make 
 light of those that are, imagining them under a 
 mistake — advancing upon an enemy whose 
 strength they have underrated. 
 
 The error is their own ; but, misled by it, 
 they resolve to ride out, meet the pale-faced 
 foemen, and anticipate their attack. Their 
 chief so commands it. 
 
 Quick as thought every warrior is upon his 
 horse, gun or spear in hand ; they, too, in mili- 
 tary formation — line of battle — pressing forward 
 to the encounter, the sentries alone left on post. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE THUNDER G U N T S. 
 
 As is their custom, the savages advance with 
 loud cries and gestures of menace, intended to 
 terrify their antagonists. 
 
 They have got several miles out from the 
 mountain, and almost within charging distance, 
 when they see that which brings them to sudden 
 halt — a thing above all others dreaded by the 
 American aboriginal — cannon " thunder guns " 
 — as they call them. The brass howitzers, 
 hitherto screened by the vanguard of cavalry, 
 have been thrown to the front, instantly unlim- 
 bered, and so brought under their eyes. Then 
 a flash, a vomiting of flame and smoke, a loud 
 ringing report, followed by the hurtling of a 
 shell in its flight through the air. It drops in 
 
 291 19 — 2 
 
292 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 their midst and instantly explodes, its severed 
 fragments dealing death around. 
 
 Too much this for Coyotero courage ; and 
 without waiting for other like destructive 
 missiles to follow, they turn tail and gallop 
 back towards the camp. Not that they have 
 any hope of safety there, for they believe the 
 great thunder guns can reach them anywhere, 
 and their flight towards it is but the impulse 
 of a confused fear. 
 
 The sentries, seeing them in retreat, alike 
 frightened by the report of the howitzers, 
 forsake their posts, each hastening towards a 
 horse — his own. 
 
 For a time the captive women are unguarded, 
 seemingly forgotten. It gives the gambusino a 
 cue ; and, acting upon it, he again calls out as 
 before in the Opata tongue, 
 
 " Sisters ! now 's your time ! Up and out of 
 the corral ; make round to the lake, fast as you 
 can run, and on into the ravine. There you '11 
 find friends to meet you." 
 
 Listening to his counsel, as one the captive 
 
THE THUNDER GUNS. 293 
 
 women resolve to act upon it ; for they are 
 now cognizant of what is going on, and fully 
 comprehend the situation. 
 
 The result, a rush out of the enclosure all 
 together, and a race round to the spot indicated 
 by that friendly voice above. 
 
 They reach it, to find there the man himself, 
 with over twoscore others around him. For 
 the gambusino, seeing how things stood, and 
 that the besiegers had their hands full else- 
 where, has hurried down the gorge, all the 
 fighting men of the miners' party along with 
 him. 
 
 It is but a moment to place the escaped 
 captives behind the rocks standing thick all 
 around ; then, screening themselves by the 
 same, they await the coming of the savages. 
 But these come not ; enough have they to do 
 looking out for their own safety. The how- 
 itzers, now near, are belching forth their bombs, 
 that burst here and there, dealing death in their 
 ranks. 
 
 With the red-skins it is no longer a question 
 
29i THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 of resistance or fight, but flight, sauve qui petit. 
 And without thought of taking along with them 
 either spoils or captives, they deem it enough if 
 they can but save their own lives. 
 
 They are all on horseback now, their chief 
 at their head, who in loud command calls upon 
 them to follow him— not to the charge, but in 
 retreat. 
 
 First they flee northward ; but short is their 
 ride in that direction. Scarce have they com- 
 menced it, when they see in front of them a 
 body of horse, seemingly numerous as that 
 they are retreating from. 
 
 Shall they meet it, or turn back ? The 
 thunder guns are still more than a mile from 
 the abandoned camp, and they will have time 
 to repass it. 
 
 Promptly deciding to do so, they wheel round 
 and gallop back, ventra a tcrre ; not slowing 
 pace nor drawing rein till they have reached the 
 western elbow of the lake. Then only coming 
 to a stop perforce at sight of still another party 
 of pale-faces there to confront them. 
 
THE THUNDER GUNS. 295 
 
 Intercepted, threatened on every side by a 
 far superior force, they now know themselves 
 in a trap. Panicstricken, they would surrender 
 and cry for quarter, but well are they aware it 
 would not be given. So, as wolves brought 
 to bay, they at length determine on fighting — 
 to the death. 
 
 For many of them, death it is. Beset on all 
 sides, in the midst of a circle of fire, bombs 
 exploding and bullets raining through their 
 ranks, they make but a despairing resistance ; 
 which ends in half their number being killed 
 and the other half taken prisoner. 
 
 The rescuers are now in possession of the 
 camp, animals, everything. But the first to 
 reach the bottom of the ravine is he who has 
 guided them thither, Henry Tresillian ; there 
 to receive a shower of thanks and blessings, 
 his father pressing him to his bosom, which 
 alike beats with joy and pride. And ihc^a/u- 
 busino embraces him, too, crying out, 
 
296 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " I see you 've brought back my saddle, 
 senorito ; and after the service it has clone, I 
 hope you '11 never consent to part with it. 
 Bridle and saddle both, I make you a present 
 of them; which I trust you'll do me the 
 honour to accept." 
 
 This draws the attention of all upon Crusader 
 standing by, who in turn becomes the recipient 
 of an ovation. 
 
 But his young master stays not to witness it. 
 Up on the summit is one who occupies all his 
 thoughts, claiming him now ; and up bounds he 
 with lighter heart than he ever before made 
 that ascent. 
 
 "Henrique!" "Gertrudes!" are the ex- 
 changed exclamations of the youthful lovers, 
 as they become locked in each other's arms, 
 their lips meeting in a kiss of rapturous joy. 
 
 ^F ^ tP tF tp 
 
 All congratulations over, the corraled wagons 
 are once more in possession of their owners. 
 Scarce any damage has been done to the mining 
 
THE THUNDER GUNS. 297 
 
 machinery or tools; the Indians, from neglect 
 or ignorance of their uses, not having thought 
 it worth while to destroy them. And for the 
 animals and chattels they had carried off, there 
 is ample compensation in those now taken from 
 them — enough to furnish the wagons with fresh 
 teams, re-establish the pack-train, in short, put 
 the caravan in order for resuming the march. 
 Which it does, after a couple of days spent in 
 getting things into condition for the route, when 
 it continues on to its original destination, the 
 gambusiuo still with it as guide. 
 
 On the same day Requeues starts out on 
 return to Arispe, taking the Coyotero prisoners 
 along with him ; while Don Juliano and his 
 valiant vaquci'ds charge themselves with the 
 task of restoring the women of Kacamori to 
 their homes. 
 
 When all are nd the Lost Mountain 
 
 again left to tranquillity and solitude, it is for 
 days the scene of a spectacle telling of the 
 terrible strife which had occurred. The wolves 
 and coyotes have gathered from afar, and over 
 
>9S 
 
 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 the bodies of the slain savages left unburied, 
 with those of their horses killed in the encounter, 
 hold riot and revel. 
 
 There, too, are the black vultures, some in 
 the air, some on the ground, in flocks so thick 
 as to darken both earth and sky. They antici- 
 pated a plenteous repast — they have not been 
 disappointed. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 AT THE ALTAR. 
 
 The last scene of our tale lies in the pucblita 
 of Santa Gertrudes ; a mining village chiefly 
 supported by the mincra bearing the same 
 name, whose works, with the specialities of 
 crushing-sheds, smelting-houses, and tall chim- 
 neys, are seen just outside its suburbs. 
 
 All have a modern look, as well they may. 
 On the ground where they stand, but three 
 years before grew a thick chapparal oi mezquite, 
 cactus, yucca, and other plants characteristic of 
 desert vegetation. For Santa Gertrudes is in 
 the very heart of the Sonora desert, remote 
 from any other civilized settlement. 
 
 Its prosperity, however, has attracted settlers; 
 for not only does the population of the village 
 
 299 
 
300 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 itself receive constant increase, but many fertile 
 tracts in the country around have been taken 
 up, and are occupied by a goodly number of 
 graziers and agriculturists, whose chief purpose 
 is to supply the comestibles required by the 
 miners and their dependants. 
 
 The growth of Santa Gertrudes has been 
 remarkably rapid, almost unprecedently so. 
 From the first opening of the mine, every vein 
 worked has proved a bonanza, enriching the 
 owners, Don Estevan Villanueva and Robert 
 Tresillian. For it is the veto, discovered, 
 denounced, and made over to them by Pedro 
 Vicente. 
 
 The gold-seeker himself has also become 
 rich, by the conditions already mentioned as 
 attached to the conveyance of the property. In 
 short, all concerned have benefited thereby — 
 every one of that travelling party delayed, with 
 lives endangered, on the summit of the Cerro 
 Perdido. 
 
 In and around Santa Gertrudes — name be- 
 stowed in honour of the Seiiora Villanueva and 
 
AT THE A LIAR. 301 
 
 her daughter, or rather their patroness saint 
 — is every evidence of advancement. The 
 cottages of the miners arc trim and clean, the 
 shops that supply them showing an abundance 
 of goods, even to articles of luxe and adorn- 
 ment. A pretty eapella, with spire and belfry, 
 stands central by the side of the public square, 
 for, as in all Spanish-American towns, Santa 
 Gertrudes has its plaza. 
 
 Two other sides of the same are occupied by 
 houses of superior pretension, with ornamental 
 grounds — the respective residences of Don 
 Estevan and his English partner — while here 
 and there a house larger and better than the 
 common denotes the dwelling of an official of 
 the minera, some head of a department 
 
 On this day Santa Gertrudes is en fete. Its 
 plaza is full of people ; the miners in their gala 
 dresses, and, mingling with them, ranchcros — 
 the new settlers from the country around — 
 resplendent in their picturesque costume. Sol- 
 diers, too, mix with the crowd, in the gay 
 uniform of the Zacatecas Lancers. For Colonel 
 
302 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Requenes and his regiment, on return from an 
 expedition to the northern frontier, have halted 
 at the pucblita, and are encamped on the plain 
 outside. The tall chimneys of the minera send 
 forth no smoke, no sound proceeds from the 
 crushing-sheds or the smelting-houses ; all is 
 silent, and work suspended as if it were a 
 Sunday. 
 
 Different with the capilla, from whose belfry 
 comes a continual clanging of bells — merry bells 
 — marriage bells. Nor needs any one telling 
 who are to be wedded. All know that the 
 owners are about to enter into relations different 
 from that of a mere commercial partnership ; 
 that Gertrudes Villanueva is about to become 
 the wife of Henry Tresillian. 
 
 The hour for the happy union has at length 
 arrived, and from the two grand houses on the 
 plaza issue the bride and bridegroom — each 
 with their train of attendants — and take their 
 way to the capella, amidst the enthusiastic 
 plaudits of the assembled people, who cry out, 
 
 " Viva la novia linda ! Viva el novio valiente 
 
AT THE ALTAI?. 303 
 
 — nuestro Salvador!" (Long- live the beautiful 
 bride! Long live the gallant bridegroom — our 
 saviour !) 
 
 Inside the church the ceremony proceeds, 
 relatives and friends from afar assisting at it ; 
 among them Don Juliano Romero, and of 
 course, also, Colonel Requeues. And there is 
 one present who not only disapproves of the 
 marriage, but would forbid it, were it only in 
 his power. This the young cornet of lancers, 
 Colonel Requeues' aide-de-camp, now a captain, 
 who stands among the spectators, with an 
 expression upon his features telling of a heart 
 torn with jealousy. 
 
 How different is that on the face of Pedro 
 Vicente, luminous with delight ! Joyed and 
 proud is he to see his young protege of the 
 chase attain the desire of his heart, in its fullest 
 happiness. 
 
 The procession returns to the house of the 
 bride's father, followed by the crowd, again 
 vociferating, " Viva la novia linda ! Vna cl 
 novio va liente ! " 
 
304 THE LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Then the pre-arranged sports of the day 
 commence on a grassy plain outside \he.p?icblita. 
 There is corrcr cl gallo (running the cock), 
 colear el toro (baiting the bull), with other feats 
 of equitation, in which Crusader bears a con- 
 spicuous part. Ridden by a famous domidor — 
 his owner for once but a looker-on — the beau- 
 tiful black wins every prize, in speed outstrip- 
 ping all horses on the ground. 
 
 The Lancer band makes music in accom- 
 paniment ; and over an improvised pavilion, 
 ornamented with evergreens, in which stand 
 the chief spectators, waves the national flag — 
 that same bit of bunting which, three years 
 before, was run up as a signal of distress on 
 the LOST MOUNTAIN. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 DALZIEL BROTHSRS, CAMDEN PRESS, LONDON, N.W. 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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