Chapter 43 - The Scalp Hunters by Mayne Reid
New Misery
It was a most singular rencontre. Here were two parties of men, heart-foes to one another, each returning from the country of the other, loaded with plunder and carrying a train of captives! They had met midway, and stood within musket range, gazing at each other with feelings of the most bitter hostility, and yet a conflict was as impossible as though twenty miles of the earth’s surface lay between them.
On one side were the Navajoes, with consternation in their looks, for the warriors had recognised their children. On the other stood the scalp-hunters, not a few of whom, in the captive train of their enemies, could distinguish the features of a wife, a sister, or a daughter.
Each gazed upon the other with hostile hearts and glances of revenge. Had they met thus on the open prairie they would have fought to the death. It seemed as though the hand of God had interposed to prevent the ruthless shedding of blood, which, but for the gulf that lay between these foemen, would certainly have ensued.
I cannot describe how I felt at the moment. I remember that, all at once, I was inspired with a new vigour both of mind and body. Hitherto I had been little more than a passive spectator of the events of our expedition. I had been acting without any stimulating heart-motive; now I had one that roused me to, a desperate energy.
A thought occurred to me, and I ran up to communicate it. Seguin was beginning to recover from the terrible blow. The men had learnt the cause of his strange behaviour, and stood around him, some of them endeavouring to console him. Few of them knew aught of the family affairs of their chief, but they had heard of his earlier misfortunes: the loss of his mine, the ruin of his property, the captivity of his child. Now, when it became known that among the prisoners of the enemy were his wife and daughter, even the rude hearts of the hunters were touched with pity at his more than common sufferings. Compassionate exclamations were heard from them, mingled with expressions of their determination to restore the captives or die in the attempt.
It was with the intention of exciting such a feeling that I had come forward. It was my design, out of my small stock of world’s wealth, to set a premium on devotedness and valour, but I saw that nobler motives had anticipated me, and I remained silent.
Seguin seemed pleased at the loyalty of his comrades, and began to exhibit his wonted energy. Hope again had possession of him. The men clustered round him to offer their advice and listen to his directions.
“We can fight them, capt’n, even-handed,” said the trapper Garey. “Thar ain’t over two hundred.”
“Jest a hundred and ninety-six,” interposed a hunter, “without the weemen. I’ve counted them; that’s thar number.”
“Wal,” continued Garey, “thar’s some difference atween us in point o’ pluck, I reckin; and what’s wantin’ in number we’ll make up wi’ our rifles. I never valleys two to one wi’ Injuns, an’ a trifle throw’d in, if ye like.”
“Look at the ground, Bill! It’s all plain. Whar would we be after a volley? They’d have the advantage wi’ their bows and lances. Wagh! they could spear us to pieces thar!”
“I didn’t say we could take them on the paraira. We kin foller them till they’re in the mountains, an’ git them among the rocks. That’s what I advise.”
“Ay. They can’t run away from us with that drove. That’s sartin.”
“They have no notion of running away. They will most likely attack us.”
“That’s jest what we want,” said Garey. “We kin go yonder, and fight them till they’ve had a bellyful.”
The trapper, as he spoke, pointed to the foot of the Mimbres, that lay about ten miles off to the eastward.
“Maybe they’ll wait till more comes up. There’s more of head chief’s party than these; there were nearly four hundred when they passed the Pinon.”
“Rube, where can the rest of them be?” demanded Seguin; “I can see down to the mine, and they are not upon the plain.”
“Ain’t a-gwine to be, cap. Some luck in that, I reckin. The ole fool has sent a party by t’other trail. On the wrong scent—them is.”
“Why do you think they have gone by the other trail?”
“Why, cap, it stans for raison. If they wur a-comin’ ahint, some o’ them niggurs on t’other side wud ’a gone back afore this to hurry ’em up, do ’ee see? Thur hain’t gone ne’er a one, as I seed.”
“You are right, Rube,” replied Seguin, encouraged by the probability of what the other had asserted. “What do you advise us?” continued he, appealing to the old trapper, whose counsel he was in the habit of seeking in all cases of similar difficulty.
“Wal, cap, it’s a twistified piece o’ business as it stans; an’ I hain’t figured it out to my satersfaction jest yet. If ’ee’ll gi’ me a kupple o’ minutes, I’ll answer ye to the best o’ my possibilities.”
“Very well; we will wait for you. Men! look to your arms, and see that they are all in readiness.”
During this consultation, which had occupied but a few seconds of time, we could see that the enemy was similarly employed on the other side. They had drawn around their chief, and from their gesticulations it was plain they were deliberating how they should act.
Our appearance, with the children of their principal men as captives, had filled them with consternation at what they saw, and apprehensions of a fearful kind for what they saw not. Returning from a successful foray, laden with spoil, and big with the prospect of feasting and triumph, they suddenly perceived themselves out-generalled at their own game. They knew we had been to their town. They conjectured that we had plundered and burnt their houses, and massacred their women and children. They fancied no less; for this was the very work in which they had themselves been engaged, and their judgment was drawn from their own conduct.
They saw, moreover, that we were a large party, able to defend what we had taken, at least against them; for they knew well that with their firearms the scalp-hunters were an over-match for them, when there was anything like an equality of numbers.
With these ideas, then, it required deliberation on their part, as well as with us; and we knew that it would be some time before they would act. They, too, were in a dilemma.
The hunters obeyed the injunctions of Seguin, and remained silent, waiting upon Rube to deliver his advice.
The old trapper stood apart, half-resting upon his rifle, which he clutched with both hands near the muzzle. He had taken out the “stopper,” and was looking into the barrel, as if he were consulting some oracular spirit that he kept bottled up within it. It was one of Rube’s peculiar “ways,” and those who knew this were seen to smile as they watched him.
After a few minutes spent in this silent entreaty, the oracle seemed to have sent forth its response; and Rube, returning the stopper to its place, came walking forward to the chief.
“Billee’s right, cap. If them Injuns must be fit, it’s got to be did whur thur’s rocks or timmer. They’d whip us to shucks on the paraira. That’s settled. Wal, thur’s two things: they’ll eyther come at us; if so be, yander’s our ground,” (here the speaker pointed to a spur of the Mimbres); “or we’ll be obleeged to foller them. If so be, we can do it as easy as fallin’ off a log. They ain’t over leg-free.”
“But how should we do for provisions, in that case? We could never cross the desert without them.”
“Why, cap, thur’s no diffeeculty ’bout that. Wi’ the parairas as dry as they are, I kud stampede that hul cavayard as easy as a gang o’ bufflers; and we’d come in for a share o’ them, I reckin. Thur’s a wus thing than that, this child smells.”
“What?”
“I’m afeerd we mout fall in wi’ Dacoma’s niggurs on the back track; that’s what I’m afeerd on.”
“True; it is most probable.”
“It ur, unless they got overtuk in the kenyon; an I don’t think it. They understan’ that crik too well.”
The probability of Dacoma’s band soon joining those of the head chief was apparent to all, and cast a shadow of despondency over every face. They were, no doubt, still in pursuit of us, and would soon arrive on the ground.
“Now, cap,” continued the trapper, “I’ve gi’n ye my notion o’ things, if so be we’re boun’ to fight; but I have my behopes we kin get back the weemen ’ithout wastin’ our gun-fodder.”
“How? how?” eagerly inquired the chief and others.
“Why, jest this a-way,” replied the trapper, almost irritating me with the prolixity of his style. “’Ee see them Injuns on t’other side o’ the gulley?”
“Yes, yes,” hastily replied Seguin.
“Wal; ’ee see these hyur?” and the speaker pointed to our captives.
“Yes, yes!”
“Wal; ’ee see them over yander, though thur hides be a coppery colour, has feelin’s for thur childer like white Christyuns. They eat ’em by times, that’s true; but thur’s a releegius raison for that, not many hyur understands, I reckin.”
“And what would you have us do?”
“Why, jest heist a bit o’ a white rag an’ offer to swop pris’ners. They’ll understan’ it, and come to tarms, I’ll be boun’. That putty leetle gal with the long har’s head chief’s darter, an’ the rest belongs to main men o’ the tribe: I picked ’em for that. Besides, thur’s Dacoma an’ the young queen. They’ll bite thur nails off about them. ’Ee kin give up the chief, and trade them out o’ the queen best way ye kin.”
“I will follow your advice,” cried Seguin, his eye brightening with the anticipation of a happy result.
“Thur’s no time to be wasted, then, cap; if Dacoma’s men makes thur appearance, all I’ve been a-sayin’ won’t be worth the skin o’ a sand-rat.”
“Not a moment shall be lost;” and Seguin gave orders to make ready the flag of peace.
“It ’ud be better, cap, fust to gi’ them a good sight o’ what we’ve got. They hain’t seed Dacoma yet, nor the queen. Thur in the bushes.”
“Right!” answered Seguin. “Comrades! bring forward the captives to the edge of the barranca. Bring the Navajo chief. Bring the—my daughter!”
The men hurried to obey the command; and in a few minutes the captive children, with Dacoma and the Mystery Queen, were led forward to the very brink of the chasm. The serapes that had shrouded them were removed, and they stood exposed in their usual costumes before the eyes of the Indians. Dacoma still wore his helmet, and the queen was conspicuous in the rich, plume-embroidered tunic. They were at once recognised!
A cry of singular import burst from the Navajoes as they beheld these new proofs of their discomfiture. The warriors unslung their lances, and thrust them into the earth with impotent indignation. Some of them drew scalps from their belts, stuck them on the points of their spears, and shook them at us over the brow of the abyss. They believed that Dacoma’s band had been destroyed, as well as their women and children; and they threatened us with shouts and gestures.
In the midst of all this, we noticed a movement among the more staid warriors. A consultation was going on.
It ended. A party were seen to gallop toward the captive women, who had been left far back upon the plain.
“Great heavens!” cried I, struck with a horrid idea, “they are going to butcher them! Quick with the flag!”
But before the banner could be attached to its staff, the Mexican women were dismounted, their rebozos pulled off, and they were led forward to the precipice.
It was only meant for a counter-vaunt, the retaliation of a pang for it was evident the savages knew that among their captives were the wife and daughter of our chief. These were placed conspicuously in front, upon the very brow of the barranca.