Kitabı oku: «The Great Cattle Trail», sayfa 12
CHAPTER XXXII.
DIPLOMACY
Oscar Gleeson, the Texan, was correct in his suspicion of the purpose of the Comanches in making Captain Shirril their prisoner; having secured possession of him, they intended to force a liberal ransom on the part of his friends, as a condition of his restoration to liberty.
The act was not only an audacious one on their part, but it will be perceived that the fulfilment of the terms was certain to be attended with the gravest difficulty. The cowboys were not to be trifled with, and, since it was inevitable that a point would be reached where one party must of necessity trust the pledges of the other, a violent collision with serious consequences appeared unavoidable.
It has been shown that it was not until he arrived close to the hills, among which the red men had fled with their captive, that there was any response to the signal he displayed almost from the first.
The moment he caught sight of the two warriors, he stopped his mustang and awaited their approach. It was not singular that a man who had crossed the Indian Nation so frequently as this veteran, recognized the couple as Wygwind, the chieftain, and Richita, whom he had met more than once and knew to be two of the worst miscreants belonging to the American race.
With no evidence, however, of his identification, he deliberately lowered his flag of truce, and returning it to its place around his brawny neck, secured it by tying the usual knot. Then with a half military salute he asked:
“Is the white man with you hurt bad?”
“Hurt not much,” replied Wygwind, who spoke English far better than his comrade.
“Why did you take him away?”
The American Indian, as a rule, is of melancholy temperament, but at this question the Comanche displayed an unmistakable grin which revealed his even white teeth.
“We sell him–he worth good much.”
“What price do you ask for him?” demanded Gleeson, coming to the point with undiplomatic abruptness.
The expectation of the Texan was that these ambassadors would demand a large number of cattle, probably five hundred, in exchange for their valuable captive. He ardently hoped that such would prove the case, for he had already formed a scheme for paying off the rogues in their own coin.
His intention was to transfer the cattle, managing the payment, however, with such care that all breach of faith on the part of the captain’s enemies would be frustrated. Then, after he was safe with his friends, and the property was placed in the hands of the Comanches, it would be necessary for the red men to hold them. The field would become an open one, and before they could turn their newly acquired property to account, they were likely to hear from the original proprietors.
But Wygwind was too shrewd to be ensnared in this style. He and his partners, in elaborating the scheme that had worked so well up to this point, had foreseen the very contingency in the mind of the white man, who sat on his horse before the delegates.
“We take horses–so many.”
In making this answer, Wygwind raised the fingers and thumbs of his hands twice in succession. Unable to count a score in the English language, he proved nevertheless that he had a clear idea of the number, which was indicated so plainly that the Texan could make no mistake as to his meaning.
Gleeson was disappointed as well as surprised. Since each cowboy was provided with at least three horses, there were about thirty with the company. To turn two-thirds of these over to the red men would seriously cripple the whites, who had still a long journey before them.
Furthermore, it must effect a material change in the programme the Texan had formed. Horseflesh is as dear to the red as to the white man, and, well mounted as the former would be after the exchange, the chances of recovering the property by the Texans must be reduced to the minimum.
But the new phase of affairs had to be met. Suppressing all evidence of his feelings, Gleeson said:
“We have not enough horses to give what you ask; we will let you have that many.”
And he held up the thumb and fingers of his right hand. Wygwind with another grin shook his head.
“Take so many”–and he repeated the gestures by which he first indicated twenty.
Gleeson now doubled his offer, which, it will be understood, was half the price demanded; but the wily Comanche felt that he was in a position to dictate terms, and remained inexorable.
The Texan knew it was useless to haggle, but he kept it up with a view of gaining time. Naturally keen-witted and trained in the subtlety of the dusky men of the plains, he sought to do more than dispute over the conditions of a proposed bargain. While thus employed, he used his senses to their fullest extent. Without seeming to do so, he was scrutinizing the hills just beyond the couple, on the ground in front of him. He sought to learn whether any of their warriors were at hand. They might have been, without his knowledge, but the fact that he saw no sign of them led him to believe they were not within immediate call.
Had he been confronted by a single warrior instead of a couple, the Texan would have attempted an exploit in which there was hardly one chance in a hundred of succeeding. It was to seize the warrior, make off with him, and then hold him as a hostage for the safety of Captain Shirril.
True, this was a violation of the flag of truce, but under the circumstances it would not have been one-tenth as flagrant as that by which our government captured the famous Seminole chieftain Osceola, and held him prisoner until his death; but with two doughty warriors to combat, it would seem that nothing could be more foolhardy than any such effort on the part of the Texan.
And yet Gleeson seriously asked himself whether it was not possible to shoot one, and leaping upon the other, overcome and carry him off before his friends could interfere. In referring to it afterward he admitted its absurdity, and yet he would have made the attempt but for a trifling discovery when almost in the act of taking the decisive step.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
DRIVEN TO THE WALL
The discovery which checked Oscar Gleeson was the presence of nearly all the Comanches within a hundred feet of the warriors that were holding their conference with him. The signs could not be mistaken, and the Texan abandoned the hopeless scheme he had formed.
The Texan thus found himself forced back upon the original proposition of Wygwind, which was the ransom of the wounded captain for twenty horses. The price under the circumstances was large, but it could not be questioned that the principal individual concerned would have paid far more, for “what will not a man give in exchange for his life?”
It remained to decide upon the method of carrying out the agreement, and again the wily Wygwind displayed his shrewdness. When the Texan referred in his offhand manner to himself and friends as bringing forward the animals to be passed to these two representatives, the Comanche replied that no one but Gleeson himself must act in the transaction. His appearance on the crest of the ridge, with the string of horses, would be the signal for Wygwind and Richita to bring forward Captain Shirril and to release him simultaneously with the driving forward of the animals. The exchange, therefore, could be effected without either party gaining the upper hand.
It was thus the Comanche stated the situation, and on the face of it, everything appeared equitable, but it was hard for the Texan to repress his chagrin, for he saw that every possible advantage remained with the red men. They would group themselves among the hills, so near that not only the prisoner, but Gleeson himself would be within range of their rifles, until the last act of the drama should be completed. There was no chance for any dash on the part of the cowboys, by which they could secure their leader and save their property. Had the Texan been allowed to bring his party with him, such an attempt would have followed with a fair prospect of success.
But he had learned long before to accept the ills of life with grim philosophy, and he did not permit the diplomats to observe any evidence of his resentment at being overreached by them. While he was convinced that they would neglect no opportunity to break faith, he acted as if there was not a doubt in his mind.
The agreement required him to return to camp to secure the animals, and he intimated that considerable time must elapse before the exchange could be effected. Wygwind assured him he would be on the watch for his appearance, and, whatever delay took place should not be chargeable to him. With this understanding, the Texan wheeled and galloped toward the ridge, beyond which he knew his comrades were awaiting his return and report.
It was received as he expected; that is to say, the views of his friends were almost as numerous as themselves. Ward, Burrell, and Andy Wynwood, the cowboys from Arkansas, declared that there was but one thing to do, and that was to accept the terms offered. Gleeson was quite certain the Comanches would fulfil their part in spirit and letter, for they could not fail to know that any attempted trickery on their part would be followed by an attack so instant and fierce that they must suffer severely, even with the hill to serve them for refuge.
Zach Collis took the opposite view, maintaining that the only result of the plan would be that the Comanches would secure twenty valuable ponies without benefiting Captain Shirril in the least. They were so villainous by nature that they would shoot him down, after he had left their lines, and more than likely would bring Gleeson himself from the saddle. The New Mexican favored a pretended compliance with the proposition. He wished all to ride to the ridge with the horses, where they would halt, while the Texan went forward with them. This would not violate the conditions imposed by Wygwind, and they could watch proceedings from the elevation. At the proper moment, when Gleeson saw the captain was out of range, he could give the signal and the company on the ridge would spur forward at headlong speed, with the certain result of making matters lively for a time.
Joseph George Garland advocated a fair exchange through and through. He insisted what no one could dispute, that the red men had secured the upper hand, and it was fortunate that they were willing to restore the captain on any terms. If they complied with their pledge, honor required the whites to be equally scrupulous in fulfilling their agreement. When their leader rejoined them, the twenty horses became the rightful property of the Comanches, though he was willing to admit they were subject to reprisal.
Antonio Nunez shrugged his shoulders and said he was willing to do whatever the others decided upon. He had no proposition of his own to make.
“Where’s Baby?” asked Gleeson, looking around with surprise, having missed him for the first time. “I would like to know what he thinks, since every pard has his own views.”
The enquiry developed the fact that Avon Burnet had not returned to camp since his departure with Captain Shirril and Shackaye. Had the others not been so busily occupied, immediately after their own return, in looking after the cattle, they would have noticed that he remained seated on his horse for some minutes on the crest of the ridge.
“I know,” said the Texan, after studying the “lay of the land” for some minutes. “He has ridden along the ridge on this side and got among the hills back of where I was talking with Wygwind.”
“What’ll be the result of that?” asked Hauser Files, who had not yet expressed his views of the situation.
“It will play the mischief with everything,” was the truthful reply of the Texan, who added excitedly: “There he comes now as if old Nick was after him!”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE FLANK MOVEMENT
It was singular that the youngest member of the cattlemen should make an important discovery, which not only escaped them, but, as subsequent events proved, was not noticed, or at least did not receive due attention from the Comanches themselves.
Avon Burnet, from his place on the crest of elevation, was watching the interview between Gleeson and the two red men, when he awoke to the fact that the ridge joined and formed a part of the hills among which the Comanches had taken refuge. That is to say, one had only to follow the former to reach the broken swell containing the warriors and their prisoner.
If such a ride were made along the right slope, the person must be in plain sight of the Indians; if along the crest, he would be visible to those on the right and left, and, if along the left slope, the cowboys could see him while he would not be perceived by the red men themselves, unless they were on the watch.
These facts were apparent to Avon at the first sweeping glance he cast to the eastward. He wondered that they escaped the notice of his friends, but this was probably due to their attention being diverted for the time by the cattle, and because, too, of their disposition to wait the report of Gleeson before deciding upon their course of action.
The thought instantly came to Avon that if the cowboys would make a sudden break along the base of the slope to the left, they could reach the rear of the Comanches, always provided the latter had taken no precautions against such a flank movement. The plan of campaign was so inviting that he could hardly believe it had been overlooked by the red men. At any rate, before urging his friends to adopt it, he decided to make a little investigation on his own account, especially as he believed sufficient time was at command.
Riding, therefore, to the bottom of the slope, he spurred Thunderbolt to a sharp gait, and quickly covered the intervening space, which was hardly a fourth of a mile. His mustang showed no ill effects from the slight wounds received during the sharp scrimmage some time before.
Avon was well aware of the risk he ran, for, if the Comanches were maintaining guard, they could readily pick him off before he could withdraw or adopt the least precaution, but he did not hesitate. When the ground became more broken, he urged his pony a short way among the hills, and then dismounted. He did this, because he wished to hold his line of retreat open. The way behind him was clear, whereas, if he took his horse further, the course would become so obstructed that he could not mount and dash out upon the plain if it became necessary.
He expected to make a long and tedious search, with the probable result of failure, so far as helping his relative was concerned, and with the certainty of great danger to himself, but events moved along with a rush, before he could anticipate them.
Convinced that he was to the rear of the main party, he advanced with the utmost care. The hills were no more than a hundred feet high at their greatest elevation, and were broken by gullies, ravines, and trails that appeared to have been partly made by the feet of animals, greatly helped by the washing of the severe storms which often sweep over that section.
The youth had penetrated barely a hundred yards from the point where he left his mustang, and was picking his way cautiously forward, when he was startled by hearing voices. The words were too low for him to distinguish them, but he instantly stopped with his Winchester ready for use. A collision seemed unavoidable, since there was no means of concealing himself except by turning about and running back, and that could hardly avail him.
The next minute he was face to face with Shackaye, the young Comanche that was the cause of all the trouble. The fellow was as much startled as he, and stopping short, partly raised his gun, as if to defend himself.
Before, however, either could speak or make any movements, Avon was astounded to catch sight of his uncle, Captain Shirril, walking slowly and evidently in pain, close behind him along the narrow path. The instant he descried his nephew, he raised his hand as a signal for him to do nothing.
“It’s all right,” he said, in a guarded voice; “Shackaye is our friend, though he hasn’t been until now.”
“How is this?” asked the youth, motionless and undecided whether to advance or retreat.
The broad face of the dusky youth expanded with a slight grin, and he replied:
“Shackaye fall on ground–Baby shoot steer–Shackaye tell warriors Baby dead–leaving him alone–bringing way captain–den Shackaye show captain way home–must hurry–Comanche come!”
“Have you a horse with you?” asked Captain Shirril, crowding forward, impatient to improve the precious moments.
“Yes; follow me.”
The prisoner had been deprived of all his weapons, and was suffering from the severe hurts received, but he roused himself and moved forward at a brisk walk, Avon taking the lead, with the young Indian close behind him and the captain at his heels.
Very few minutes were required to pass over the intervening space, but while doing so Captain Shirril made clear several facts which needed explanation. To these may be added others that came to light afterward.
As has been intimated elsewhere, the suspicions of Gleeson regarding Shackaye were correct. He had joined the cattlemen for the purpose of helping Wygwind and his band to despoil them. He was unable to do this at the time the cabin was attacked, and therefore kept in the background until the present opportunity presented itself. The intention of the Comanches, as first formed, was to stampede the animals on some favorable night, and thus secure possession of a large number; but there was great risk in the attempt, since the cowboys were watchful, and the cattle being branded, it would have been almost impossible for the thieves to dispose of them, even if able to run them beyond reach of their owners. The Great Cattle Trail is about a hundred yards in width, with smaller paths weaving in and out along the edges, all so distinctly marked that no one can go astray, unless the path is temporarily obliterated by snow. The diversion of a considerable number of cattle would leave footprints that could be readily followed, and Captain Dohm Shirril was not the man to submit to such despoilment, so long as there remained the possibility of preventing it.
The Comanches, however, in the vicinity of the herd kept track of all its movements. The cunning Shackaye succeeded in holding occasional communication with them, and learned of their change of plan. It was decided to make the captain prisoner on the first opportunity, and hold him for ransom.
Since it was his practice to take his nephew with him on almost every excursion he made from camp, Shackaye conceived it necessary to the success of the plot that Avon should be put out of the way. It has been shown that he made the attempt on the preceding night and came within a hair of success. It was characteristic of his race that the atrocious crime was undertaken by him as a matter of course.
The very chance for which Wygwind and his band were waiting came that morning when Captain Shirril, his nephew, and Shackaye set out to hunt the estray cattle. While Avon was engaged in conquering the troublesome steer, with the captain attentively watching him, Shackaye remounted his horse, from which he had been thrown, and made all haste to the hills.
Wygwind and his warriors were ready, and indeed met him on his way thither. He took no part in the fight, but watched it from his refuge. When the last desperate struggle took place he spurred forward and joined the assailants.
The intention of the Comanches had been to shoot down Avon, but to spare his uncle, and it was curious that the very opposite result was effected. It was impossible that Captain Shirril should escape in the mêlée, though his foes meant only to shoot down the horses and slay his companion.
Shackaye arrived at the critical moment, when the helpless leader was being lifted upon the horse of Wygwind in front of him, and Avon lay senseless beneath the body of the mustang. The fact that Thunderbolt was still lying on the ground bleeding from his two flesh wounds led to the belief that he was mortally hurt, and no effort, therefore, was made to take him away.
Despite the savage nature of Shackaye, a feeling of gratitude had been roused within him by the act of Avon in saving him from the enraged steer. Whether the white youth was already dead or not he did not know, but he interposed a vigorous plea that no further harm should be done him. He had performed his own part so well that his prayers had some effect, while the necessity for urgent haste in leaving before the arrival of the cowboys, who were coming over the ridge, led to the flight of the whole party of Comanches without harming a hair of his head.
It will be readily understood that none of the warriors could hold any suspicion of Shackaye’s loyalty toward them and their interests. When, therefore, the time came for the opening of the negotiations with the cowboys, the wounded and unarmed captain was left in charge of Shackaye, while the others went forward and maintained their places within reach of Wygwind and Richita, during their interview with Gleeson. This was simply prudence on their part, since they knew there was the best reason for believing the whites would instantly seize any advantage offered them.
Captain Shirril now did an exceedingly clever thing. He saw it was useless to appeal to Shackaye’s kindly feelings toward himself, but he had noticed his vigorous efforts to save his nephew from harm, when he lay senseless under the body of the mustang. He saw that, despite the villainous nature of the youth, he entertained a strong regard for Avon, and upon that regard he wrought, by representing the sorrow that would come to him, if his uncle suffered further. He knew his heart would be broken and he could never, never recover from his woe.
To Shackaye’s reply that the chief Wygwind meant to allow the friends of the prisoner to buy him back, Captain Shirril dwelt upon the impossibility of such a thing. He pressed his view of the case with such vigor that Shackaye, influenced alone by his gratitude to Avon, agreed to conduct the captain out of the hills, where he could make his way to camp undetected, provided the interview between Wygwind and the Texan was not ended in time for the Comanches to discover what had been done.
It need not be said that Captain Shirril seized the opportunity thus offered, and began limping forward, behind his guide, who encountered Avon Burnet a few minutes later.
The expectation was that Shackaye would return to camp with his two friends, since he would be assured of good treatment despite his former unfaithfulness, and especially since it was unsafe for him to remain among those to whom he could never justify his course of action. But after the captain was assisted on the back of Thunderbolt, and his nephew took his place, so as to help him in keeping his seat, the young Comanche obstinately refused.
They tarried to urge him to save his life by such a course, but he ended the argument by abruptly turning about and hurrying along the path, where he speedily vanished.
“There’s no use of waiting,” said the captain, starting Thunderbolt forward; “I can’t understand his obduracy.”
“He must be afraid of our men.”
“But he knows the danger is a thousandfold greater among his own people–hark!”
The sharp report of a rifle rang among the hills behind them, accompanied by a wild cry of mortal pain.
“He has paid with his life for his friendship!” whispered the captain, instantly spurring up Thunderbolt to a dead run.
Such was the truth. Shackaye could offer no excuse for what he had done, nor did he attempt to do so. His act was discovered sooner than he anticipated, and he died at the hands of the infuriated chieftain Wygwind, before those whom he had saved were beyond reach of the sound which told of the completion of the tragedy.
The Comanches attempted pursuit, but the start obtained by the fugitives, brief as it was, sufficed, and they had not ridden far when they met the whole band of cowboys galloping to their defence. Gleeson and his comrades would have been glad had the red men ventured out upon the plain beyond the shelter of the hills, but Wygwind and his warriors were too wise to do so.
