<br/><SPAN name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></SPAN>
<hr style="width: 35%;" /><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</SPAN></span>
<br/>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
<h2>THE ESCAPE.</h2>
<br/>
<p>Turning in the direction of the mountain, we put our horses into a hard
run, and in a few moments were tearing our way through the mezquite
bushes that fringed its base. The undergrowth became denser as we
advanced, and it was found advisable to abandon the ponies and forge
ahead on foot. The safety of our party depended in a great measure on
the celerity of our movements. Hastily dismounting, and tying the cattle
to some sturdy sage bushes, we continued our ascent, and it was not many
minutes before we had reached a portion of the mountain that shelved out
over the ravine, thus forming an admirable position for the signal
operations. My companion briefly explained the method of smoke signals,
which were made by gathering a quantity of very dry underbrush for the
fire, and green twigs, boughs of pine, balsam, and hemlock, being placed
upon the blazing wood, covers the flame and throws off a dense smoke
that may be seen at great distances. After ascertaining his views, and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</SPAN></span>receiving my instructions, I plunged into the wood and busied myself
collecting materials for our telegraph operations. It was not long
before we had a sufficient quantity of material gathered, and placing
the dry wood in such a manner that it might be easily ignited, my
companion produced his tinder apparatus, and was soon at work drilling
the block of hard wood, and frantically endeavoring to coax a spark that
might set the pile in a blaze.</p>
<p>As few, if any, of my readers understand the method by which Indians
light their fires, I will hastily describe it. The Indian is unfamiliar
with the use of matches; even the more primitive flint and steel is a
sealed book to him; hence he resorts to a very simple but laborious
contrivance. Each Indian supplies himself with two dried stalks of the
Mexican soap plant, about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. One is
made flat on one side; near the edge of the flat surface a small
indentation is made to receive the point of the other stick, and a
groove cut from this down the side. The other stick is made with a
rounded end, and placed upright upon the first. Placing the stick with a
flat surface between the feet, the point of the other is placed in the
hole made to receive it, and turning it between the palms with a
backward and forward motion, and pressing the point forcibly into the
lower stick, a fine powder is made, which runs through the groove and
falls on the ground. By constant and rapid motion the wood begins to
smoke, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</SPAN></span>and at length the fine particles take fire; the spark is soon
nursed into a flame, and the brushwood ignited.</p>
<p>In this manner our fire was lighted, and heaping up the pine and hemlock
boughs, the surrounding atmosphere was one dense cloud of smoke.
Stealing to the very edge of the cliff, I peered over and anxiously
scanned the plain below. I could see Stonhawon's band fighting
desperately with their foes, who, by their superior numbers, were
overpowering the Camanches. Immediately behind the belt of timber, and
to the left of the contending factions, was the party comprising the
band under the leadership of Hissodecha. They were moving cautiously
around the timber, and had not as yet observed the signal. Once more the
signal was worked, this time sending up a denser cloud than before. It
was observed by the ambushed party; they drew rein, and after a hasty
consultation, turned and retraced their steps. The movement was not
executed any too soon, as the main party were retreating before the
successful assault of the enemy, and endeavoring to gain the friendly
cover of the wood. Hissodecha pressed rapidly forward, and emerging on
the plain, swooped down upon the flank of the victorious Arrapahoes.
This sudden movement entirely changed the aspect of affairs. The
Arrapahoes fell back precipitately in the direction of the ravine,
hoping by this means to gain shelter, and if the worst came to the
worst, disband and scatter over the mountain.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</SPAN></span>It was a thrilling scene, and I almost wished I was one among them.</p>
<p>Our mission was accomplished, and my companion intimated that we should
descend the mountain and join the war-party. As we descended, the
Camanche preceded me, pushing his way through the bushes with a rapidity
only acquired by long practice.</p>
<p>Suddenly the thought flashed across my mind that now, if ever, was my
golden opportunity. What would there be to prevent my braining the
Indian in his tracks and then escape? It was a savage and brutal
alternative, to be sure; but it was my only chance, and I might wait
years in vain before another opportunity would present itself. As I
revolved the scheme in my mind, my hand went instinctively to my belt
and grasped the tomahawk. I trembled with excitement, and as if to keep
pace with my thoughts, my steps quickened, and a few strides brought me
close upon my victim. My quick and labored breathing must have attracted
his attention, as, suddenly wheeling, he confronted me, and evidently
read the murderous intention in my eye, he sprang lightly to one side,
and unsheathing his knife, stood as if expecting an attack.
Simultaneously with this action, I drew my tomahawk and rushed upon him,
aiming a blow at his head. He adroitly parried it with his arm, but in
so doing received a severe wound in the shoulder. Darting at me, he
clutched my arm, and twining his limbs about my person, made a desperate
endeavor to bring <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</SPAN></span>me to the ground. The tomahawk was of no use now; I
allowed it to fall from my grasp, and with the disengaged hand clutched
my knife.</p>
<p>My antagonist's superior strength began to tell. I felt powerless, and
his eyes gleamed with fiendish triumph. He raised the shining blade
preparatory to sheathing it in my body, when I suddenly felt the ground
giving way beneath my feet, and in less time than it takes to relate it,
we were rolling over a precipice with a sheer fall of about ten feet.
The savage clung to me with a death-like grip, and encircling my neck
with his arm, grasped my throat <i>with his teeth</i>. Those were fearful
moments. I struggled to disengage my hand from his vice-like grip. The
blood gurgled from my mouth, my tongue protruded, and I was gasping for
breath in the last throes of strangulation, when we came to the ground
with a terrific shock.</p>
<p>The savage gave one yell that curdled my blood, and instantly relaxed
his hold, falling limp and lifeless by my side. I was not many minutes
in disengaging myself from my antagonist, and in doing so I was made
aware of the cause of the sudden turn of events that had saved me from a
horrible death. It would appear, that during the struggle and fall, the
hand that grasped my knife was encircled around the body of my foe, and
when we struck the ground, my body being uppermost, the knife had been
driven to the hilt into his back by the force of the concussion.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</SPAN></span>Everything now depended on the celerity of my movements. The remainder
of the party would no doubt wonder at our long absence, and despatch
runners to seek the missing "signal" makers. It would require but a
glance at the prostrate form of their comrade to enable them to realize
the true state of affairs, and to make instant preparation to follow,
overtake the fugitive, and mete out to him the reward of his perfidy.
Hastily possessing myself of what few arms I needed, and taking the bag
of parched corn that was suspended from the girdle of the fallen savage,
I made my way to where the ponies were <i>cached</i>, and springing on my
animal, urged him forward at the top of his speed, leading the Indian's
pony by the lariat attached to his bridle.</p>
<p>My plan was to strike out over the prairie in a southerly direction, and
by traveling without cessation, endeavor to put a wide gap between
pursuer and pursued, and thus be enabled to reach in safety some of the
Mexican frontier towns. I was certain that this plan was feasible, from
the conversation I had heard from time to time among the warriors of our
band. Indeed, it was proposed by Hissodecha, to raid on some one of the
<i>pueblas</i>, if they were unsuccessful in their attack on the Arrapahoes,
as by this means they would avoid the ignominy of returning to the
lodges of their people, without being able to display the fruits of a
successful foray; such as scalps, horses, captives, etc.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</SPAN></span>By riding my pony until he dropped from exhaustion and then availing
myself of the fresh lead horse, I could travel an immense distance
without drawing rein. It was growing dark when I started, and I had not
traveled far before the night closed in, and I had to trust to the
instinct of my horse to carry me safely over the prairie. My course was
shaped by a certain star that would keep me on the right trail if I held
it steadily in view. About midnight I halted at a small stream to water
the horses, and hastily prepare for myself a small portion of the
parched corn, which was done by mixing a handful in a gourd filled with
water. This corn is invaluable to those who wish to traverse long
distances, without being hampered with unnecessary luggage. With a sack
or gourd of this article, containing about an half bushel, one can
travel fifteen or twenty days without other sustenance.</p>
<p>On we sped, the animals straining every muscle and nerve, their flanks
heaving and flecked with foam. No sound broke upon the stillness of the
night, save the rapid hoof-strokes of the mustangs, and occasionally the
yelp of a coyote that was startled in his midnight prowlings by our
sudden and rapid advance. Directly in my coarse loomed up a huge mound,
and further on the dark forms of a range of low hills were outlined upon
the horizon. I concluded to push on and gain their shelter. Once within
their protecting shadow, I could pursue my course more leisurely, and
without the fear of immediate detection. My <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</SPAN></span>grand anxiety was to hide
or blind the trail, and by this means baffle the sleuth hounds, who were
by this time in full pursuit.</p>
<p>I had not proceeded far when the pony came to a sudden halt, which
almost unseated me. I tried to urge him forward by word and action, but
it was of no avail; he refused to move, and stood trembling like an
aspen. Leaning forward and peering over his neck, I discovered, to my
dismay, a wide chasm, which fully explained why the mustang had refused
to be urged forward. The banks on either side were quite level, and no
indentations or ruggedness marked the line of separation. One could ride
up to its very brink without being aware of a break in the prairie
level. I had thus come upon one of those <i>barancas</i>, the result of
volcanic action, that are so frequently met with in this country. There
was no alternative but to ride along its edge until I came to a point
where its sides were depressed to the level of the plain. This, of
course, involved a long detour, and a consequent loss of valuable time.
My only consolation was in the reflection that my enemies, in following
the trail, would be compelled to resort to the same tactics.</p>
<p>I had journeyed down its banks about three miles, before I found an
opportunity to cross. As I reached the opposite side, I turned and
looked back. Away to my right, and in the direction from whence I came,
I discerned a number of dark specks on the horizon, which filled me with
the direst apprehensions. These <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</SPAN></span>dark objects were, doubtless, the forms
of my pursuers, who had, it would seem, traveled with a celerity almost
equaling my own. The chase now assumed a desperate aspect; before me lay
life, hope, and freedom; behind was a nemesis that represented
captivity, torture, and death. I plied the whip vigorously to the flank
of my jaded steed, in the frantic endeavor to reach the cover of the
mountain. I had not proceeded far on my course, when my pony showed
unmistakable signs of giving out. Indeed, I had not made more than a
mile on my course, when the animal stopped abruptly. I could feel him
tremble under my weight; and dropping on his knees, I had scarcely time
to leap to the ground before he fell, and drawing a deep sigh, he turned
on his side and died, being absolutely ridden to death. I had no time to
waste in mourning the brave little animal that had carried me thus far
so faithfully. My robe was quickly transferred to the other horse, and
the flight resumed. Reaching the base of the hills, I was so fortunate
as to find water; and throwing myself at the foot of a tall cottonwood,
with the lariat of the mustang attached to my wrist, I determined to
snatch an hour's rest, of which both my mustang and myself were very
much in need, after our long and arduous ride.</p>
<p>I was awakened by a violent pulling at my wrist, caused by the horse, in
trying to reach fresh grass. In a few moments I was up, mounted, and
away once more in the direction of the Mexican towns. Towards <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</SPAN></span>evening I
came to a river of some magnitude. It was now the dry season, and the
stream was only a rivulet compared to what I judged it must be, when
swollen by the rains and melting snows from adjacent mountains.</p>
<p>I had, during the latter part of my journey, been casting about in my
mind a series of plans, which would enable me to blind my trail, when
lo! here was an opportunity that surpassed my most sanguine
expectations. To urge my horse into the stream was the work of a moment,
and then turning his head with the current, I continued the journey. At
times the water would brush the animal's flanks; again, it would
suddenly shallow, and scarcely cover his fetlocks; occasionally I would
strike a deep hole, and be obliged to swim the animal some rods, before
reaching <i>terra firma</i>.</p>
<p>These irregularities in the river-bed were due to its quicksand
formation, which was constantly shifting, shallowing here, deepening
there, and it would have been sure destruction to horse and rider, if we
stopped for a moment in our tracks.</p>
<p>After journeying in this manner for about a mile, I entered a cañon,
whose walls ascended to a height of thousands of feet, perpendicularly.
On emerging from this gloomy pass, a sight met my gaze that made me
shout for joy. Gaining the bank of the stream, I saw extended before me,
waving fields of grain, and in the background, the modest spire of a
little church, which <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</SPAN></span>was surmounted by a gilt cross, that fairly
scintillated under the rays of the noon-day sun.</p>
<p>I had arrived then, at last, within the confines of civilization, and my
career as a savage, was about to be abruptly terminated. As I pushed
forward, along the road that skirted the grain fields, and the familiar
sounds of former days fell upon my ears—the tinkle of the cow bells,
the busy hum, that filled the air like the whisper of early
recollections, wafted down through the airy halls of time—made the
scenes, trials and sufferings, appear but as a horrid dream, and I
seemed to be just waking to reality. A glance at my tattooed and painted
form, however, soon brought me back to a realizing sense of my position,
and set me to reflecting how I should explain my presence in this
hostile guise, to any chance inhabitant whom I might meet.</p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p>After much cogitation on the subject, I concluded it would be best to
ride boldly into the village, and seeking the <i>Alcaid</i>, explain my
situation in as good Spanish as my limited knowledge of the tongue,
would permit. I had not gone far, when I was encircled by a crowd of
bewildered and frantic Mexicans, who were shouting, "<i>Indios!</i>" "<i>Los
Indios!</i>" at the top of their squeaky voices; while I made a running
accompaniment to their remarks, by holding up my hands, with the palm
outstretched towards them, and shouting in my turn, "<i>Amigo!</i>"</p>
<p>Reaching the <i>plaza</i>, I dismounted, entered the <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</SPAN></span><i>cantina</i> and called
for a basin of water. Stripping the plumage from my head, and relieving
my body of its meretricious adornment, I plunged into the bath prepared
for me, and came out, an entirely different looking individual.</p>
<p>The news of my arrival had collected an eager and enthusiastic
multitude, who filled the <i>patio</i>. I said enthusiastic, but all due
allowance must be made for the natural and inherited indolence of the
Mexican.</p>
<p>On emerging from the inn, I was greeted with several shouts, and fifty
people were asking me questions in one breath, all bent on having them
answered in less than no time. I finally succeeded in relating my
history, adventures and escape, and wound up with an appeal to their
charity; setting forth my utterly destitute condition, in the most
glowing terms my execrable Spanish would permit. It was an animated
scene; the men in the checkered serape, or stripped blankets, conical
sombreros, with broad brims, calzoneros of velveteen, with rows of
shining buttons, and a sash of gaudy color, encircling their waists. The
women were no less conspicuous; draped in the graceful sebazo, the short
vogna, and the finely embroidered chemisette.</p>
<p>My appeal was not met with that spontaneous generosity that I could have
wished; in fact, they contributed nothing, and as a last resort, I was
compelled to offer my horse for sale; which venture was more successful,
and I soon disposed of him at a very fair price. I was now enabled to
buy the few articles of clothing that I <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</SPAN></span>was most in need of, and after
lingering a few hours in the village, I concluded to push on towards
Santa Fé, in the hope of falling in with some party of traders, or
miners, and then trust to the chapter of accidents for the rest.</p>
<p>Fortune favored me in my designs, as I soon had an opportunity to join a
party of Mexicans, who were <i>en route</i> for the Capital of New Mexico, on
trading schemes intent. I accompanied them in the capacity of muleteer.</p>
<p>Arriving in Santa Fé, I immediately repaired to the largest inn, being
attracted thither by a number of uncouth characters, in hunting shirts,
and slouch hats. I entered unobtrusively, and took a quiet survey of the
scene. The room was the <i>cantina</i>, and all were indulging in potations,
more or less deep, of El Paso whiskey. The atmosphere was redolent of
the fumes of tobacco, and commingled with the shouts and coarse language
of the men, was the shrill treble of the women, who darted here and
there, through the throng, like sunbeams.</p>
<p>I was attracted by one rude specimen, who seemed bent on getting up a
fight. This great rough fellow, of six feet and over, called a trim
little <i>poblana</i> to him, with, "hyar, my little muchacha! vamous, and
git me some of that'er Pass, good now, and clar!" Then, as the liquor
was produced, he offered the waiter a quantity of money, which was
unhesitatingly accepted, with a "<i>mucho bueno, señor</i>."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</SPAN></span>"Hooraw for you! come along, let's licker up all round, and have a
dance; you're the gal for my beaver; bully for old Missouri!" Suddenly,
a pistol was discharged in a remote corner of the room, and there was an
instantaneous rush in that quarter, succeeded by loud cries, oaths,
blows, shooting, din, and confusion.</p>
<p>Sick and weary of such scenes, I left the <i>cantina</i>, and sallying forth
into the <i>plaza</i>, wandered down the street, not knowing where to go, or
what was to become of me. I cared less.</p>
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