CHAPTER XXII.
ACROSS THE BORDER
NOW came several days’ experience, so similar in its main features that it is not worth while to describe it in detail.
The Texans and Herbert Watrous pushed their ponies to the verge of prudence; but though the skill of the cowboys saved them from going astray, and there never was any danger of losing the trail of the fugitives, they failed to catch sight of them during that period.
They knew that Nick Ribsam rode a horse fully the equal, if not the superior, of those following him, and it was shown that Bell Rickard and Harman Slidham were well mounted. It was easy, therefore, for the three to cover the same ground as their pursuers, and, having as good a start, there was little prospect of the parties gaining sight of each other until those in advance chose to permit it.
Herbert Watrous will never forget that long ride through Western Texas. Had he not undergone a severe preparation he never could have stood it, for it seemed to him that he was in the saddle all the time, except when stretched on the earth asleep. Jill, his faithful pony, developed astonishing endurance, but though the Texans got everything possible out of the animals, they were too prudent to force them to a killing pace; all stood it well.
During that extended ride many streams were crossed. One of them was the North Fork of the Concho, properly the Colorado, on which the capital of Texas stands. Although at certain seasons this becomes a raging torrent, the horses forded it from bank to bank without once losing their feet. Indeed, only for a few paces did the water touch the stirrups of the riders.
There were other banks, separated by hundreds of feet, down which they rode into deep beds, where the signs showed the streams ran full at certain times with an enormous volume of water, but, like the current of the upper Rio Grande, they seemed dried up. Here and there were muddy pools, connected by tiny threads of water, which hardly moved, while elevations of the beds were met midway between the shores, where the hoofs of their horses actually stirred the dust.
In some portions of Texas the rise and subsidence of the streams are as sudden as those of Central Australia. At none of the numerous crossings were our friends obliged to swim their animals.
On the third day they were checked by a norther, which caught them in the middle of the plain, where nothing in the nature of a shelter was available. But the Texans met the crisis in an odd way.
First blanketing their ponies, they scooped out small, circular holes in the ground, into which they placed dried buffalo chips, and dried blades of grass. When these were fairly burning they folded their blankets about their bodies so as to envelop their heads, and then sat over the openings, allowing enough space to save the fires from being smothered. While the situation had its discomforts, it afforded a grateful degree of warmth, which none enjoyed more than Herbert, who could not help laughing at the comical figures they made.
The norther, which fortunately did not last long, was followed by a cold, drizzling rain, which would have been uncomfortable to the last degree but for the slickers of oiled linen that had been provided for such emergencies. The Texans, when they overtook the pack animals, made certain that these garments were secured, for it was inevitable that the long ride before them should be marked by occasional bad weather.
It was impossible to obtain good camping grounds at all times, though the party did not often suffer in this respect. While now and then they went a day with only a single meal, it cannot be said they actually suffered; but the main purpose of the pursuers was speed, and they were exasperated to find how cleverly Rickard held his own. Not only that, but there was reason to fear he was drawing away from them. It was impossible, even with the wonderful woodcraft of the pursuers, to make sure of this, for several hours cannot show a perceptible difference in the trail of three horsemen; but the Texans insisted that there was greater space between them than at the hour of opening the pursuit.
Since it was not believed that Rickard had a field glass with him, the pursuers would have gained a great advantage could they have got nigh enough to see him, which was the very thing they were unable to do.
I must not forget to make known one important fact. You will remember the real cause of Herbert Watrous’ journey across Texas, which was to regain the health that was seriously threatened by his bad habits and rapid growth. While he received vast benefit from breathing the pure air of the Southwest, it was his forced march, as it may be called, to New Mexico that did the splendid work for him.
The continuous exercise, the crystalline atmosphere, the deep, refreshing sleep, the abstention from tobacco, nourishing food (which, though only partially cooked and eaten at long intervals, was the very best diet he could have obtained), in short the “roughing it,” in the truest sense, was the true “elixir of life,” and wrought a change in the young man which, could his parents have witnessed, they would have pronounced marvellous.
The sickly complexion was succeeded by a ruddy brown, the effect of the wind, storms, and sun; his shoulders straightened, his slight, hacking cough vanished, and he felt every morning, noon, and night that he was gaining strength and health.
It has been said that no perfectly healthy person can suffer depression of spirits for a long time. Nature will rebound and lift him above the gloom. Herbert Watrous wondered more than once, while riding across the prairie, or lying upon the grass, or springing into the saddle in the morning, that he should be so buoyant and hopeful when the youth whom he loved best in all the world was in peril of his life. He reproved himself that he should feel thus, but, all the same, he could not help it.
This lightness of spirits was not wholly due to his rapidly improving health, but to the fact that he was convinced there was a growing reason to hope for the best. Whatever the vicious Rickard might intend to do with Nick Ribsam in the way of revenge, it was clear his instant taking off did not form a part of the scheme. The fact that, as the day passed, Nick still kept his place among the living, was good ground for hoping that he would continue to do so indefinitely. Better still, Strubell and Lattin agreed with him, though neither was as sanguine as Herbert himself.
There came one of those bright, perfect days, when the sunshine seemed more golden, the air clearer, and the sky bluer than is ever seen elsewhere. Herbert noticed that his companions were unusually interested in the surrounding scenery. The prairie was mostly of the rolling kind, though not to a marked degree, and the grass was so plentiful and succulent that the grazing could not have been improved. They had forded a small stream, and, gazing in any direction, nothing but the same apparently endless plain greeted the eye. Not a hill or mountain range was perceived in any portion of the horizon.
“Herbert,” said Strubell, looking across from his saddle, “in what part of the world do you suppose we are?”
“Why,” replied the youth, surprised by the question, “we must be well advanced into Western Texas.”
“We are in New Mexico,” said the Texan, with a smile, “and have been there for twenty-four hours.”
“That’s good news, though I was expecting it before long.”
“I wasn’t sure of the exact spot where we crossed the border, but it took place yesterday; we are beyond the twenty-sixth meridian, with the Sand Hills far to the east of us, and north of the thirty-second parallel.”
“And how much further to the ranch?”
“The Pecos is less than fifty miles away, and just on the other side of that is Mr. Lord’s ranch. Hello!” he added, quickly bringing his glass to his eyes; “we have seen a few Indians, but, if I am not mistaken, yonder comes a white man.”
Herbert was quick to bring his glass into use, and instantly saw that his friend was right. An individual was drawing near who was destined to play an important part in the stirring incidents at hand.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A RELIC OF OTHER DAYS
I MUST not omit to say that during the days occupied in the long ride toward the northwest, our friends saw Indians more than once. They were generally straggling parties, who viewed the three horsemen with as much curiosity as our friends studied them. They were either Comanches or Kioways, though the hunting grounds of the latter were far to the eastward. Close to the New Mexican boundary they observed a half dozen warriors, who the Texans said were Apaches. They followed the whites for one afternoon, discharging their guns from a distance, and more than once seemed on the point of attacking them; but a shot from Lattin wounded a dusky raider badly, after which all drew off and were seen no more.
The sight of a white man riding toward them, with the evident purpose of a meeting, centred the interest of the three on him. He was mounted on a wiry “plug,” and as he drew near was seen to be one of those individuals occasionally met in the wildest parts of the great West a generation ago. He belonged to the trappers and hunters, who, leaving the confines of civilization at the close of the summer season, spent the severe winters in trapping beavers, otters, and other fur-bearing animals. They faced the perils of vengeful red men, wild beasts, and the rigorous winters for the sake of the pittance paid at the frontier posts and towns for the scant peltries carried thither.
The man who rode up had but the single animal, his worldly possessions being strapped in place behind him, while his long, old-fashioned rifle rested across the saddle in front. His dress may be described as a cross between that of a cowboy and an Indian. His hat was of the sombrero order, but he wore a skin hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins, and possessed a massive frame which must have been the repository of immense strength.
His face was a study. His hair was long, and, like the beard that covered his face, plentifully sprinkled with gray. His small eyes were light in color, restless, bright, and twinkling; his nose large and Roman in form, and his voice a mellow bass.
The trapper was yet several rods distant when Lattin exclaimed in a surprised undertone:
“Why, that’s old Eph, as sure as I live!”
“So it is,” added Strubell; “I haven’t seen him for years.”
The hunter recognized the Texan at the same moment, and the movement of his heavy beard showed he was smiling, though it was impossible to see his mouth. He uttered a hearty salutation as he came forward, and grasped each hand in turn, being introduced by Strubell to Herbert, who noticed the searching look he fixed for a moment on his face.
“I’m glad to know you, younker,” he said, almost crushing his hand; “but I’m s’prised to meet you so soon after seeing another; I aint used to running agin boys in this part of the world; but things seem to be gettin’ endways the last few years, and I’ve made up my mind thar’s powerful little in the trappin’ bus’ness any longer.”
Eph Bozeman, as Strubell announced him, proved by the words just uttered that he had seen Nick Ribsam, and therefore must have news to impart. Since he had come directly over the trail of the horse thieves, the Texans had suspected the other fact before he made it known.
After the exchange of a few questions and answers, during which Bozeman stated that he was on his way to Austin to hunt up an old friend, who had been engaged for a number of years in buying and selling mustangs, Strubell explained the business that had brought him and his companions over the border into New Mexico.
“How far are we behind Rickard and the others?”
The trapper turned in his saddle and looked to the rear for a few seconds without speaking. His forehead was wrinkled with thought, but it did not take him long to answer the question.
“You are thirty-five miles or tharabouts from the Pecos, and Bell and Harman will cross the stream about noon, which is two hours off, so you may say thar is thirty miles atween you.”
“There wasn’t more than a dozen when we started,” was the remark of the disgusted Lattin, “so we have been losing ground for more than a week that we’ve been chasing ‘em.”
“Thar can’t be any doubt of that ‘cordin’ to your own words,” replied the trapper; “but if you keep on you’ll be up with ‘em by the end of two days.”
“How do you make that out?” asked Strubell.
“‘Cause they’re goin’ to stop at the ranch layin’ just beyond.”
Strubell and Lattin exchanged glances, and Herbert, who was watching them, was satisfied that the news did not surprise them. They had expected it from the first or they would not have persevered thus far.
“I met ‘em yesterday,” continued Bozeman, “not fur back; they had halted to cook a young antelope that Harman shot, and I jined in on the chorus.”
“What did they say to you?”
“Nothin’ in partic’lar; I told ‘em whar I was goin’, and asked ‘em what they war doin’ in this part of the world. They said they war on thar way to look at that ranch I spoke about on t’other side of the Pecos, and it might be they would spend some time thar.”
“Did they say anything about the boy with them?” asked Herbert, whose curiosity was at the highest point.
“Yas – consid’rable. I asked who he was and whar he come from; Bell told me he was a younker as wanted to take a trip through Texas fur his health – though he’s the healthiest younker I’ve looked on for many a day – and tharfur they war takin’ him along.”
“Did you have anything to say to Nick?”
“Who’s Nick?” asked the trapper, with another movement of the beard around his mouth that showed he was smiling.
“He’s the boy – my friend that we’re looking after.”
“I shook hands with him, give him some good advice that he thanked me for, and that was all.”
“I suppose he was afraid to say anything more.”
“It must have been that; Bell and Harman watched him powerful close, and though he looked as if he would like to add something, he didn’t. I tell you,” continued the trapper, addressing Strubell and the others, “I s’pected something was wrong, though I didn’t say nothin’, ‘cause thar warn’t any show for me doin’ anything. I’m s’prised to hear what you say, and, boys, if you want me to give you any help, I’m yours to command.”
This was said with a heartiness that left no doubt of its sincerity. His friends were delighted with the offer, and Herbert especially was sure that no better thing could happen. He assured old Eph he should be well paid for his trouble. The trapper did not refuse, though his proposal was made without any idea of the kind; but, as he confessed, matters had gone ill with him for a long time, and he was in need of all he could honestly earn.
He had known Rickard and Slidham for ten years, and was aware of the crooked business in which they were engaged; but, inasmuch as they did not cross his path, there was no cause to quarrel with them. He had spent more than one night in their company, and would not hesitate to do so again, without misgiving; but when he learned of their high-handed outrage, his sturdy nature was filled with wrath, and he declared himself eager not only to help rescue the boy, but to punish them for their crime.
This decision was reached within ten minutes after the handshaking, and the trapper wheeled his pony around and joined in the pursuit without further delay.
Since it was clear that the others could not be overtaken until they made their final halt, the pursuers let down in their pace, and allowed their animals to follow at a leisurely rate.
It struck Herbert as very strange that the destination of the enemies and friends of Nick Ribsam should be the same. Though the former could not have caught sight of their pursuers, they must have known of it, and were now about to stop and give them time to come up, and make battle, if they chose, for the possession of the young man, who, without any fault of his own, had become the bone of contention.
There was something about the business that he could not understand; but by listening to the stealthy conversation of his friends he gained an inkling of the truth. He learned, too, that they were less hopeful of success than he. The almost endless pursuit, however, was drawing to a close, and the end, whatever it might be, was at hand.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A RACE WITH AN AVALANCHE
THE little party had encamped in a hollow in the prairie, where, after eating their sparse lunch, they lolled on the ground, the men smoking their pipes, while their animals cropped the grass before lying down for the rest which they needed as much as their owners.
“Yes,” said Eph Bozeman, after the conversation had lasted a half hour, and took the form of reminiscences on the part of the adults, “I war eighteen years old when I went on my first trappin’ hunt with my old friend Kit Carson, and there war three trappers beside us. I war younger in them days than now, and I don’t quite understand how Kit come to let me do one of the foolishest things a younker of my age ever tried.
“It war in the fall of the year that we five went away up in the Wild River Mountain, meanin’ to stay thar till spring. Kit had been in the same region a few years before, but he said no trap had ever been set in the place, and we was sure of makin’ a good haul before the winter war over. It was November, and we went to work at once. We were purty well north, and so high up that I don’t think warm weather ever strikes the place.
“We had good luck from the start, and by the time snow began to fly had stowed away in the cave we fixed up for our winter quarters more peltries than Kit had took the whole season before. That was good; but when we begun to figure up how much money we war going to have to divide down at Bent’s Fort, after the winter war over, from the sale of the furs, Kit shook his head and said the season warn’t ended yet.
“Since we war sure of having ugly weather we had got ready for it. The luggage that war strapped to the back of our pack mules had a pair of snow-shoes for each of us, and we all knowed how to use ‘em.
“The first snow-fall come in the beginnin’ of December, but it didn’t amount to much. Howsumever, we catched it the next week, heavy. It begun comin’ down one afternoon just as it war growin’ dark. It war thin and sand-like, and when it hit our faces stung like needle p’ints. Carson went outside, and after studyin’ the sky as best he could, when he couldn’t see it at all, said it war goin’ to be the storm of the winter.
“He war right, as he generally war in such matters. When mornin’ come it war snowin’ harder than ever, and it never let up for four days and nights. Then when it stopped the fall war mor’n a dozen feet in the mountains. This settled like, and a crust formed on top, which war just the thing for our snow-shoes. On the steep inclines you’ve only to brace yourself and let the law of gravertation, as I b’lieve they call it, do the rest.
“It war powerful lonely in our cave day after day, with nothing to do but to talk and smoke and sleep, and now and then steal out to see if the mules war safely housed. It got so bad after a while that we all put on our snow-shoes and started out for a little fun.
“About a mile off we struck a gulch which we had all seen many times. It war the steepest that we knowed of within fifty miles. From the top to whar it broadened out into a valley war three-quarters of a mile, and all the way war like the roof of a house. I s’pose it war a little more than a hundred yards wide at the top, whar the upper part of the biggest kind of an avalanche had formed. There the wind and odd shape of the rocks and ground had filled the place with snow that war deeper than the tallest meetin’-house you ever laid eyes on. It had drifted and piled, reachin’ far back till it war a snow mountain of itself. Don’t you forget, too,” added the trapper impressively, “that this snow warn’t loose drift stuff, but a solid mass that, when it once started, would go down that gulch like so much rock, if you can think of a rock as big as that.
“We war standin’ and lookin’ at this mountain of snow, wonderin’ how long it would be before it would swing loose and plunge into the valley below, when a fool feelin’ come over me. I turned to Kit and the other fellers and offered to bet a beaver skin that I could start even with the avalanche and beat it down into the valley. Carson wouldn’t take the bet, for he saw what rashness it war. Yet he didn’t try to dissuade me, and the other chaps took me up right off. The idea got into my head that Carson thought I war afraid, and then nothin’ could have held me back.
“It didn’t take us long to get things ready. One of the trappers went with me to see that the start war all right, while Kit and the other picked thar way to the valley below, so as to have a sight of the home stretch.
“It took us a good while, and we had to work hard to make our way to the foot of the avalanche. When we got thar at last and I looked up at that mountain of snow ready to tumble right over onto me, I don’t mind sayin’ I did feel weak in the knees; but I wouldn’t have backed out if I knowed thar war only one chance in a million of my ever livin’ to tell it.
“The chap with me said if I wanted to give it up it would be all right – he told me afterward that he war sorry he had took my bet – but I laughed, and told him it war a go.
“He helped me fix my snow-shoes, and wouldn’t let me start till he seen everything war right. Then I stood on the edge of the gulch and held myself still by graspin’ the corner of the rock behind me. He climbed above, so he could peep over and see me. He said I war so far below that I looked like a fly, and I know that he didn’t look much bigger than that to me. It took him so long to climb to the perch that my hand was beginnin’ to grow numb, when I heard his voice, faint and distant-like:
“‘Hello, Eph, down thar! Are you ready?’
“‘Yes, and tired of waitin’,’ I answered.
“‘One – two – three!’
“As he said the last word, and it was so faint that I could hardly hear him, him and me fired our pistols at the same time, as you sometimes see at a foot race, though thar they ginerally have but the one pistol.
“You understand how it was,” added the trapper for the benefit of Herbert Watrous: “them shots war fur the avalanche. Bein’ as we war startin’ on a foot race, it war right that we should have a fair start, and the only way of doin’ that was by settin’ off some gunpowder. If the avalanche was hangin’, as it seemed to be, the shakin’ of the air made by our pistols would set it loose and start it down the valley after me. But onless it war balanced just that way the broadside of a frigate wouldn’t budge it.
“Howsumever, that war the lookout of the avalanche and not mine, but, bein’ as I meant it should be fair and square, I waited after firin’ my pistol, lookin’ and listenin’. I didn’t mean to start in ahead of the thing, nor did I mean it should get the best of me. As like as not it wouldn’t budge, and then of course the race war off.
“For a second or two I couldn’t hear nothin’ but the moanin’ of the wind away up where the other feller had climbed. Then I heard a sound like the risin’ of a big storm. It war low and faint at first, but it quickly growed into the most awful roar mortal man ever heard. Just then my friend shouted:
“‘Here she comes! Off with you!’
“I give myself a shove out over the top of the snow, curvin’ about, so that when I reached the middle of the gulch I started downward. In that second or two I seen the whole avalanche under way, hardly a hundred yards off, and it war comin’ for me like a railroad train, and goin’ faster every second.
“You can make up your mind that I war doin’ some tall travellin’ myself.
“Whew! boys, I can’t tell you much about that race. The avalanche didn’t flatten out and shoot down the gorge in loose masses, as I’ve seen ‘em do, but just stuck together and come like one solid half of the mountain itself.
“If it catched me I was a goner just as sure as if run down by a steam-engine. But you would think thar couldn’t be any chance of it catchin’ me, ’cause it war gravertation that was pullin’ us both, and one oughter go as fast as t’other. The only thing I had to do was to keep my feet and stay in the middle of the gorge. If I catched one of my toes in the snow crust I would tumble, and before I could help myself the avalanche would squelch me.
“I can never forget, but I can’t tell how I felt goin’ down that three-quarters of a mile like a cannon ball. The wind cut my face as if it war a harrycane, and everything was so misty like I couldn’t see anything plain, and so I war in mortal fear of turnin’ out of the course and hittin’ the side of the gulch.
“I don’t know how it war, but once I felt myself goin’ over. I s’pose I must have got out of line and tried to get back without exactly knowin’ what I war doin’. Kit Carson, who war watchin’ me, said I went two hundred feet balanced on one snow-shoe. He then give me up, for he war sure thar warn’t a shadder of a chance for me.
“But I swung back agin, and, keepin’ to the middle of the gulch, soon struck the level, and went skimmin’ away as fast as ever till I begun goin’ up the incline on t’other side. I war doin’ that in fine style when the p’int of one of my shoes dipped under the snow crust, and I know I turned a round dozen summersets before I stopped. It sort of mixed things in my brain, but the snow saved me from gettin’ hurt, and though the avalanche come powerful close, it didn’t quite reach me, and I won my beaver skin.”