Part 19 (1/2)
”Senor Colonel,” interposes the youthful guide, ”if you'll let me have a look through your telescope, I think I can settle that point.”
This, as he sees the commanding officer drawing his field-gla.s.s from its case.
”In welcome, senorito. Here!” and he hands him the telescope.
Instantly it is brought to his eye, and eagerly--his fingers trembling as they hold it out. What he hopes to see will tell him that his father and friends still live; if he sees it not, he will know they are dead; and _she_, dearer than all, condemned to a fate far worse!
What a change comes over his countenance almost on the instant of his raising the gla.s.s to his eye! Hitherto grave to apprehension, all at once it lights joyously up, as from his lips proceed the words, ”They're still on the mountain; Heaven be praised!”
”If it be so, Heaven deserves praise--all our thanks. But how know you, senorito?”
”By the flag!”
”What flag?”
”Take the gla.s.s, Colonel; look for yourself.”
Receiving back the telescope, and adjusting it to his sight, Requenes levels it at the Lost Mountain.
”At the nearest end, up on the summit,” pursues Henry Tresillian, instructingly, ”you'll see it. It is the flag of Mexico. Don Estevan intended to have raised it over his new mine, and had it hoisted yonder in the hope it might be seen by some white men, and lead to our situation being made known. It has proved of service now; telling us our friends are still in the land of the living. If they were not it wouldn't be there.”
”You're right, senorito, it wouldn't. And it is there--I see it!--yes, can even make out the national insignia--the eagle and nopal. We may thank Heaven, indeed.”
”And we do!” exclaims the _ganadero_, raising his hat reverentially, all following his example.
A thrill of exultation runs like wildfire backward on to the extremest rear--a joyous excitement, as the soldiers learn they have not made their long march in vain, and that the foe is before them, not far oft.
For the banner waving above proclaims the siege still continued, and the Indians keeping it up.
”They _are_ there,” affirms the Colonel, after gazing some time through his gla.s.s. ”I can see the smoke ascending from their camp fires. No doubt by this they'll be cooking their breakfasts. Well, we won't be in time to hinder their having that meal; but if they eat dinner this day, without my leave, I shall be willing to throw up my commission as colonel of the Zacatecas Lancers. Now, gentlemen!” he adds, turning to his staff, and summoning his chief officers around him in council of war, ”the enemy is yonder; no doubt of it. 'Tis a question as to how we should advance upon him. Give your opinion, Major Garcia.”
”How many are there supposed to be, Colonel?” asks the major, a sage, grizzled veteran. ”Our mode of approaching them should much depend upon that.”
”Unluckily I can't tell,” says the Commander-in-chief; ”there were wellnigh five hundred all told when together; but it appears that half went off on a raid down the Horcasitas, the other half remaining to carry on the siege. If the raiders are returned and are now among the besiegers, then we'll have their full force to deal with, and may expect a sharp fight for it. I know these redskins of old, the band of the Rattlesnake; though, as our young friend informs me, that worthy has ceased to exist, and the Vulture reigns in his stead. All the worse for us, as Zopilote was the master of Cascabel in tactics, cunning, courage--everything. Never mind, we should only be too glad to meet the renowned warrior, if but for glory's sake.”
While the Colonel is still speaking a voice is heard to rearward, with exclamations telling of excitement there. Immediately after a subaltern officer of the rear-guard advances rapidly to the front, conducting a strange horseman, whose dress, travel-stained, with the sweat and dust upon his horse, betokens him just arrived from a journey long and hurriedly made. A messenger on some errand, which his wan, woebegone face bespeaks to be of the saddest.
”Whence come you, _amigo_?” demands the commanding officer, as the stranger is brought face to face with him.
”From Nacomori, on the Horcasitas, Senor Colonel,” is the answer.
”On what business?” asks Requenes, more than half divining it.
”Oh, senor, the Indians have been there; killed scores of our people-- children as grown men; plundered and burnt our houses; carried off all our young women; made rack and ruin of everything. I rode to Arispe, hoping to find you there, but you were gone, and I've hastened hither after you.”
”What Indians? Where did they come from?”
”From the north, senor; down the river. Apaches, we thought; but it was in the night they came upon us, and no one could be sure. When morning came they had gone off with everything.”
”What night? How long since this occurred?”