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An intention which, despite their apparent stolidity -- in contradiction to the ideas of the closet naturalist and his theory of animal instinct -- the vultures clearly comprehend. |
About the behaviour of the birds the marauders take no note. They are used to seeing turkey-buzzards around -- better known to them by the name "zopilotes." |
For long ere the Anglo-American colonists came in contact with the Comanche Indians a Spano-Mexican vocabulary had penetrated to the remotest of these tribes. |
No new thing for the Tenawas to see the predatory birds swooping above them all day and staying near them all night. Not stranger than a wolf keeping close to the sheepfold, or a hungry dog skulking around shambles. |
As night draws near, and the purple twilight steals over the great Texan plain, the party of chasing pursuers is relieved from a stay by all deemed so irksome. Remounting their horses, they leave the scene of their reluctant halt, and continue the pursuit silently, as if moving in funeral march. |
The only sounds heard are the dull thumping of their horses' hoofs upon the soft prairie turf; now and then a clink, as one strikes against a stone; the occasional tinkle of a canteen as it comes in contact with saddle mounting or pistol butt; the champing of bits, with the breathing of horses and men. |
These last talk in low tones, in mutterings not much louder than whispers. In pursuit of their savage foe, the well-trained Rangers habitually proceed thus, and have cautioned the settlers to the same. Though these need no compulsion to keep silent; their hearts are too sore for speech; their anguish, in its terrible i... |
And, sure enough, when the pursuers, at length at the creek's mouth, enter the canon through which it disembogues its crystal water into the grander and more turbid stream, they discovered certain traces of the pursued having passed along its banks. |
Another mile of travelling, the same silence observed, with caution increased, and there is no longer a doubt about the truth of Cully's conjecture. Noises are heard ahead, sounds disturbing the stillness of the night air that are not those of the uninhabited prairie. There is the lowing of cattle, in long monotonous m... |
On hearing these sounds, the Ranger captain, acting by the advice of the guide, orders a halt. Then the pursuing party is separated into two distinct troops. One, led by Cully, ascends the cliff by a lateral ravine, and pursues its way along the upper table-land. The other, under the command of the captain, is to remai... |
When it has passed, the second division moves forward up the creek, again halting as a light shines through the trees, which, from its reddish colour, they know to be the glare of log fires. |
They need not this to tell them they are close to an encampment -- that of the savages they have been pursuing. They can hear their barbarous jargon, mingled with shouts and laughter like that of demons in the midst of some fiendish frolic. |
They only stay for a signal the guide arranged to give as soon as he has got round to attack on the opposite side. The first shot heard, and they will dash forward to the fires. |
Seated in their saddles, with reins tight drawn, and heels ready to drive home the spur -- with glances bent greedily at the gleaming lights, and ears keenly alert to catch every sound -- the hearts of some trembling with fear, others throbbing with hope, still others thrilling with the thought of vengeance -- they wai... |
It comes at length. Up the glen peals a loud report, quickly followed by another, both from a double-barrelled gun. |
This was the signal for attack, arranged by Cully. |
Soon as hearing it, the reins are slackened, the spurs sent home, and, with a shout making the rocks ring, and the trees reverberate its echoes, they gallop straight towards the Indian encampment, and in a moment are in its midst. |
They meet little resistance -- scarce any. Too far from the settlements to fear pursuit -- in full confidence they have not been followed, the red robbers have been abandoning themselves to pleasure, spending the night in a grand gluttonous feast, furnished by the captured kine. |
Engrossed with sensual joys, they have neglected guard; and, in the midst of their festivities, they are suddenly set upon from all sides; the sharp cracking of rifles, with the quick detonation of repeating pistols, soon silences their cacchinations, scattering them like chaff. |
After the first fusillade, there is but little left of them. Those not instantly shot down retreat in the darkness, skulking of! among the pecan trees. It is altogether an affair of firearms: and for once the bowie -- the Texan's trusted weapon -- has no part in the fray. |
The first rays of next morning's sun throw light upon a sanguinary scene -- a tableau terrible, though not regrettable. On the contrary, it discloses a sight which, but for the red surroundings, might give gladness. Fathers, half frantic with joy, are kissing children they never expected to see again; brothers clasping... |
Near by, things strangely contrasting -- corpses strewn over the ground, stark and bleeding, but not yet stiff, all of coppery complexion, but bedaubed with paint of many diverse colours. All surely savages. |
A fearful spectacle, but one too often witnessed on the far frontier land of Texas. |
Chapter Thirty Three. |
A Forced Confession. |
The party of Texans has made what prairie men call a "coup." On counting the corpses of their slain enemies they find that at least one-half of the Tenawa warriors have fallen, including their chief. They can make an approximate estimate of the number that was opposed to them by the signs visible around the camp, as al... |
The settlers are satisfied at having recovered their relatives, as also their stolen stock. As to the Rangers, enough has been accomplished to slake their revengeful thirst -- for the time. These last, however, have not come off unscathed; for the Comanches, well armed with guns, bows, and lances, did not die unresisti... |
The Rangers count three of their number killed and about twice as many wounded -- enough, considering the advantage they had in their unwarned attack upon enemies who for once proved unwatchful. |
When the conflict has finally come to a close, and daylight makes manifest the result, the victors take possession of the spoil -- most of it their own property. The horses that strayed or stampeded during the fight are again collected into a drove -- those of the Indians being united to it. This done, only a short sta... |
They do not hasten their departure through any apprehension of a counter-attack on the side of the Comanches. Fifty Texan Rangers -- and there are this number of them -- have no fear on any part of the plains, so long as they are mounted on good horses, carry rifles in their hands, bowie-knives and pistols in their bel... |
But the settlers are desirous of a speedy return to their homes, that they may relieve the anxiety of other dear ones, who there await them. They long to impart the glad tidings they will take with them. |
While the preparations for departure are going on, Cully -- who, with several others, has been collecting the arms and accoutrements of their slain enemies -- gives utterance to a cry that brings a crowd of his comrades around him. |
"What is it, Nat?" inquires the Ranger captain. |
"Look hyar, cap! D'ye see this gun?" |
"Yes; a hunter's rifle. Whose is it?" |
"That's jess the questyin; though thar ain't no questyin about it. Boys, do any o' ye recognise this hyar shootin' iron?" |
One after another the Rangers step up, and look at the rifle. |
"I do," says one. |
"And I," adds another. |
And a third, and fourth, make the same affirmation, all speaking in tones of surprise. |
"Walt Wilder's gun," continues Cully, "sure an' sartin. I know it, an oughter know it. See them two letters in the stock thar -- 'WW.' Old Nat Cully hez good reezun to recconise them, since 'twas hisself that cut 'em. I did it for Walt two yeern ago, when we war scoutin' on the Collyrado. It's his weepun, an' no mistak... |
"Where did you find it?" inquires the captain. |
"I've jess tuk it out o' the claws o' the ugliest Injun as ever made trail on a puraira -- that beauty thar, whose karkidge the buzzards won't be likely to tech." |
While speaking Cully points to a corpse. It is that of the Tenawa chief, already identified among the slain. |
"He must a' hed it in his clutch when suddenly shot down," pursues the guide. "An' whar did he git it? Boys, our ole kummerade's wiped out for sartin. I know how Walt loved that thar piece. He w'udn't a parted wi' it unless along wi' his life." |
This is the conviction of several others acquainted with Wilder. It is the company of Rangers to which he formerly belonged. |
"Thar's been foul play somewhar," continues Cully. "Walt went back to the States -- to Kaintuck, ef this chile ain't mistook. But 'tain't likely he stayed thar; he kedn't keep long off o' the purairas. I tell ye, boys, these hyar Injens hev been makin' mischief somewhar'. Look thar, look at them leggin's! Thar's no een... |
The eyes of all turned towards these terrible trophies that in gory garniture fringe the buck-skin leg-wear of the savages. Cully, with several others who knew Wilder well, proceed to examine them, in full expectation of finding among them the skin of their old comrade's head. There are twelve scalps, all of white men,... |
There is some relief in this, for his old comrades love. Walt. Still, there is the damning evidence of the gun, which Cully declares could only have been taken from him along with his life. How has it got into the hands of the Horned Lizard? |
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