Part 26 (1/2)
As Wingrove came up to the fire, I noticed a singular expression upon his countenance. Instead of being rejoiced at his success, his looks betrayed anxiety! I questioned him as to the cause. He did not answer directly; but, drawing me to one side, inquired in a whisper, if I had seen any one in his absence.
”No. Why do you ask?”
”If it wan't altogether unpossible, I'd swar I seed that girl.”
”What girl?”
I trembled, as I put the question: I was thinking of Lilian.
”That darnationed devil of a Chicasaw.”
”What! Su-wa-nee?”
”Yes--Su-wa-nee.”
”Oh--that cannot be? It could not be her?”
”So I'd a thort myself; but darn me, capt'n! if I kin b'lieve it wa'nt her. What I seed war as like her as two eggs.”
”What did you see?”
”Why, jest arter I'd killed the goat, an' war heisting it on my shoulders, I spied a Injun glidin' into the bushes. I seed it war a squaw; an' jest the picter o' the Chicasaw. She 'peared as ef she hed kim right from hyar, an' I thort you must a seed her.”
”Did you get sight of her face?”
”No, her back war torst me, an' she kep on 'ithout turnin' or stoppin' a minnit. 'Twar the very duds that girl used to wear, an' her bulk to an inch. It kudn't a been liker her. Darn me, ef 'twan't eyther her or her ghost!”
”It is very improbable that it could have been either?”
I did not for a moment entertain the idea that it was the Chicasaw he had seen; and yet my comrade was fully impressed with the belief, and reiterated the a.s.sertion that he had either seen Su-wa-nee or her ”shadder.” Though the thing was improbable, it was not beyond possibility. We knew that there were Indians travelling with the train: we had heard so before starting out. But what likelihood was there of Su-wa-nee being among them? Certainly not much. That there were prairie Indians around us, was probable enough. We had already observed their traces upon the ground of the deserted camp. The ”squaw” seen by Wingrove might be one of these.
Whether or not, her presence proved the proximity of red-skins; and the knowledge of having such dangerous neighbours, summoned us to a fresh exercise of vigilance and caution. Our fire was instantly extinguished; and, contenting ourselves with a morsel of the half-broiled buffalo-beef, we moved to some distance from the spot, before proceeding, to cook the antelope. A dark covert in the thick woods offered us a more secure kitchen. There we rekindled our fire--and roasting the ribs of the p.r.o.ng-horn, refreshed ourselves with an ample meal. After an hour's repose, we resumed our journey--in confident expectation, that before sunset we should get within sight of the caravan.
CHAPTER FIFTY.
UP THE CANON.
We had not ridden far from our halting-place, when we arrived at the end of the great cotton-wood forest. Beyond that, the trace led over open ground--here and there dotted by groves and ”islands” of timber.
Through these we threaded our way--keeping as much as possible among the trees. Further on, we came upon a gorge--one of the noted _canons_ through which the Huerfano runs. Here the river sweeps down a narrow channel, with rocky banks that rise on each side into precipitous cliffs of stupendous height.
To avoid this gorge--impa.s.sable for wheeled vehicles--the waggon-trace, below its entrance, turns off to the right; and we perceived that the caravan had taken that direction. To get round the heads of the transverse ravines, that run into the _canon_, a detour must be made of not less than ten miles in length. Beyond the canon--the trace once more returns to the stream.
The notes of a military reconnoissance had forewarned me of this deviation; and, furthermore, that the trace pa.s.ses over a ridge altogether dest.i.tute of timber. To follow it, therefore, in the broad light of day, would expose our little party to view. If hostile Indians should be hanging after the caravan, they would be sure to see us, and equally certain to make an attack upon us; and from the traces we had noticed at the night-camp--to say nothing of what Wingrove had seen--we knew there were Indians in the valley. They might not be hostile; but the chances were ten to one that they were; and, under this supposition, it would be imprudent in us to risk crossing the ridge before nightfall.
There were two alternatives: to remain under the timber till after sunset, and then proceed by night; or to push on into the canon, and endeavour to make our way along the bed of the stream. So far as we knew, the path was an untried one; but it might be practicable for horses. We were now on the most dangerous ground we had yet trodden-- the highway of several hostile tribes, and their favourite _tenting-place_, when going to, or returning from, their forays against the half-civilised settlements of New Mexico.
The proximity of the caravan--which we calculated to be about ten miles ahead of us--only increased our risk. There was but little danger of the Indians attacking that: the train was too strong, even without the escort. But the probability was, that a band of Indian horse-thieves would be skulking on its skirts--not to make an attack upon the caravan itself but as wolves after a gang of buffalo, to sacrifice the stragglers. Unless when irritated by some hostile demonstration, these robbers confine themselves to plundering: but in the case of some, murder is the usual concomitant of plunder.
The delay of another night was disheartening to all of us--but especially so to myself, for reasons already known. If we should succeed in pa.s.sing through the canon, perhaps on the other side we might come in sight of the caravan? Cheered on by this prospect, we hesitated no longer; but hastening forward, entered between the jaws of the defile. A fearful chasm it was--the rocky walls rising perpendicularly to the height of many hundreds of feet--presenting a grim _facade_ on each side of us. The sky above appeared a mere strip of blue; and we were surrounded by a gloom deeper than that of twilight. The torrent roared and foamed at our feet; and the trail at times traversed through the water.