CHAPTER IV
A RACE WITH A MULE
When Stephens arrived at the edge of the terrace on which theplough-lands lay, he looked down on the green expanse of meadow throughwhich the river ran, and feeding in it half a mile below he saw somestock that he knew must be his. "There they are," said he to himself. "Ireckon I'll take Jinks and go down to San Remo and get my mail, and seeif those Winchester cartridges that I sent for from Santa Fe came lastnight."
He clambered down the abrupt bank of red clay to the meadow, andfollowed down the line of the stream till he came to where his stockwere eagerly cropping the fresh green grass.
"Now how am I going to catch him?" said he to himself. "Let's see whereFelipe and the lariats are"; and looking round, he presently perceivedsome clothes on the river bank, and going to them found Felipe, strippedto his waist-cloth, splashing about in the middle of a deep pool.
"Hullo, Felipe!" cried he playfully. "Trying to drown yourself there?You must go to the Rio Grande for that--there isn't water enough in theSantiago River."
Felipe heard him indistinctly, and came towards him, swimming in Indianstyle with an amazingly vigorous overhand stroke. Stephens picked up oneof the lariats that were lying loose on the ground by the clothes, andswinging the noose round his head, jestingly tried to lasso the lad.Missing him, he turned it off with, "I don't want you yet. I want thebig mule; I'm going to catch him and go down to San Remo"; and suitingthe action to the word, he coiled the lariat as he spoke, and turned andstarted for the beasts.
Felipe came out and stood on the bank to watch him. "What a good humourhe's in now," thought the boy. "I suppose he was lucky with the rock.Now is my time to ask him for the mare."
Stephens, holding the coil of rope behind him to conceal his intentionfrom the mule he desired to catch, cautiously approached him. Jinks, themule, however, was not to be deceived for a moment, and as his mastercame near, turned his heels to him and scuttled off. Horses and muleswhere they have frequently to wear hobbles become surprisingly active inthem. They bound along for a short distance, in an up-and-downrocking-horse gallop, so fast that even a man on horseback has to makehis mount put his best foot forward to get up to them. Stephens foundhimself outpaced, and gave it up, seeing that it was impossible for himto capture the truant single-handed.
Felipe flew to his side in a moment. "Let me try to catch him,Sooshiuamo," cried he, eagerly. "Let me!" and taking the lariat from thenot unwilling hands of the American, he started off, coiling it rapidlyas he ran. Before bathing he had undone his pigtail, and his long,glossy black hair hung in thick, wavy masses down to his waist. Amongthe Indians, the women cut their hair short--if it remained uncut thecare of it would take too long, and would keep them from theirhousehold duties; but the men, having more leisure, allow theirs togrow, and are very proud of its luxuriance and beauty. As Felipe ran,his streaming locks floated out behind him on the air like the mane of awild horse, and gave to his figure a wonderfully picturesque effect; hiswet skin shone in the sun the colour of red bronze.
The Pueblo Indians are fine runners; they have inherited fleetness offoot and endurance from their forefathers, and keep up the standard bygames and races among themselves. Felipe, young though he was, had nosuperior in swiftness in the village. He darted like a young stag acrossthe meadow after the fugitive mule, and chased him at full speed down tothe river brink, and over the dry shingle banks of its very bed. Thepebbles rattled and flew back in showers from the hoof-prints of themule. Round they wheeled, back into the meadow again; and here theIndian, putting on an astonishing burst of speed, fairly ran thequadruped down, lassoed him, and brought him to his master.
"Here he is, senor," said he modestly, handing Stephens the rope.
"Well done, Felipe," said Stephens. "You did that well. You do run likean antelope." He felt quite a glow of admiration for the athletic youthwho stood panting before him, resting his hand on the mule's back.
"Now's my time," thought Felipe, "what luck!--oh, Don Estevan," hebegan, and then stopped with downcast eyes.
"Well, what is it?" said Stephens kindly.
"Oh, Don Estevan, if you would lend me your mare!" The murder was out,and Felipe looked up at his employer beseechingly. "I would take suchcare of her!" he continued; "I would indeed."
"Lend her for what?" said Stephens, a little taken aback. "What do youwant with her?"
"I want her to go to Ensenada to-night," said the boy.
"Oh, but Felipe, I'm going to the sierra to-morrow to hunt, you know. Itisn't possible. But," he continued, touched a little by the boy'sevident distress, "what do you want to do there? Why don't you get yourfather's horse?"
"He's at the herd. My father doesn't let me," said Felipe despondently.Then he went on, "I thought perhaps you didn't go for a day or two. Iwill bring her back to-morrow in the night. And she shall not betired--not a bit. Oh, do lend her to me! Please do!"
"I wonder what foolery he's up to now," said Stephens to himself; "I dohate to lend a horse anyhow--and to a harebrained Indian boy who'll justride all the fat off her in no time. Cheek, I call it, of him to askit."
"But," he continued in a not unfriendly tone, "why do you want her? Isit flour you have to fetch?" Wheat flour was rather scarce this springin the pueblo, and some of the Indians were buying it over on the RioGrande.
"No, sir, it's not that. Only I want her," he added. "Oh please, DonEstevan, please," said he with an imploring face; "do lend the mare orthe mule, or anything to ride. Oh do!" and he threw all the entreaty hewas capable of into his voice, till it trembled and almost broke into asob.
"Why, what ails the boy?" said Stephens, surprised at his emotion. "Ifyou want it so bad," he continued, "why don't you ask it from Tostado,or Miguel, or some of them? They'll let you have one. You know I neverlend mine. If I did once, all the pueblo would be borrowing them everyday. You know it yourself. You've always told me yourself that it wouldbe like that." He was trying to harden his heart by going over his stockargument against lending. "You see I can't do it. I'm going off to thesierra to-morrow," and he turned away, leading the mule after him by therope.
But before he had gone far he stopped and looked round as if an idea hadstruck him. "It might be a good notion to try and pump this boy a bitright now," he considered; "he's so desperate eager to borrow the marehe might be willing to let out a thing or two to please me." He beckonedwith his hand to Felipe, who was gazing regretfully after his employer.
"See here, Felipe," said Stephens, as the boy eagerly ran to him;"there's something that I had in my mind to ask you, only I forgot. It'sjust simply this--did you ever kill a rattlesnake?"
"Never, oh, never in my life!" cried the young Indian, with a voice ofhorror.
"Well, and why not?" persisted the other. "What's your reason anyway?What is there to prevent you?"
"Oh, but, Sooshiuamo, why should I?" said the boy in an embarrassedmanner, looking distractedly at the ground as he balanced himselfuneasily on one bare foot, crossing the other over it, and twiddling histoes together. "I don't know," he added after a pause. "Why should Ikill them?"
"Well, they're ugly, venomous things," said the American, "and thatwould be reason enough for anybody, I should think. But tell me anotherthing then. What do your folks do with them in the estufa? Can't youtell me that much?"
"What are you saying about things in the estufa?" cried the boyexcitedly. "Have any of the Mexicans been telling you, then, that wekeep a sacred snake in the pueblo? Don't you ever believe it, don't,don't!" and his voice rose to a passionate shrillness that betrayed theanxiety aroused in him by any intrusion on the mysteries of his people.
"The Mexicans be blowed!" said Stephens. "I'm talking to you now of whatI've just been seeing with my own eyes. There was a big old rattler cameout of the rock after I blasted it, and young Antonio went and caught itby the neck and let it twist itself around his arm, and another fellowwent to playing with it with a bunch of feathers, and then they ran offwith it to the pueblo,--the caciq
ue told them to,--and half a dozen morechaps with them, as tight as they could go. Now I want to know what allthat amounts to."
"I can tell you this much," said Felipe after a moment's hesitation;"Antonio is one of the Snakes; so were the others, of course, who wentwith him. The snake is their grandfather, and so they know all aboutsnakes. But I'm a Turquoise, like you, Sooshiuamo. You are my uncle," headded insinuatingly, "and you should be kind to me and lend me a horsesometimes."
The American laughed aloud. "Oh, I know all about Grandfather Snake andGrandfather Turquoise and the rest of them," he said. "But I'm not anIndian, and I don't come into your family tree, even if you do call meSooshiuamo and I live in a Turquoise house. I don't lay claim to be anyparticular sort of uncle to you. But I do want you should tell mesomething more about this snake-charming business. Can't you let itout?"
"But how can I let it out?" exclaimed Felipe in an irritated voice."Haven't I told you already that the Snakes know all about it, and notme? You may be sure the Snakes keep their own affairs private, and don'tshow them to outsiders. How should I know anything about the Snakes'business?"
"Well, Felipe, if you won't, you won't, I suppose," said Stephens. "Iknow you can be an obstinate young pig when you choose." He did not morethan half believe in the lad's professed ignorance. He hesitated amoment as if in doubt whether to try another tack. "Look here, young'un," he began again in a friendlier tone, "I'll pass that. We'll playit you don't know anything about snakes. You're a full-blooded Turquoiseboy, you are, and your business is to know all about turquoises, andturquoise mines, and so on. Very well." He was pleased to see a sort ofconscious smile come over the lad's mouth almost involuntarily. "Allright then. Let's play it that you are my nephew if you like. Now then,fire ahead, you, and tell your uncle all about where we go to get ourturquoises from. You're bound to be posted up in these family matters.There's a lot of things your uncle wants to hear. The silver plates forthe horse bridles, for instance, now; let's hear where they come from.Go on; tell me about our silver mines."
"No, no, no!" he cried desperately, and he sprang back as if theAmerican had struck him with a whip. "It is impossible; there aren'tany; there are no such things; the Mexicans have been telling you that,too, have they? but they're all liars, yes, liars; don't you everbelieve one word that they say about us." He paused, his lips partedwith excitement and his lithe frame passionately convulsed.
Regretfully Stephens looked at him and recognised that it was hopelessto get anything out of him, at least in his present condition. "Verywell, Felipe," he said, "I think I understand your game. You just don'tchoose, and that's about the size of it"; and gathering up the coils ofthe lariat he turned abruptly away and led off the reluctant CaptainJinks in the direction of the pueblo in order to saddle him up. He feltdecidedly cheap; as yet he had not scored a single trick in the game hewas trying to play.
Felipe stood looking after him disconsolately; at last he gave a heavysigh and walked back to where he had left his clothes, with droopinghead and flagging step, a figure how unlike the elastic form that hadburst full speed across the meadow five minutes before. "It's no use,"said he to himself. "He doesn't care; he's a very hard man, is DonEstevan." He did up his glossy hair into its queue, put on his longbuckskin leggings and his cotton shirt, worn outside in Indian fashionlike a tunic and secured with a leather belt, bound his red handkerchiefas a turban round his head--the universal pueblo head-dress--and with avery heavy heart went back to his weeding.
Lone Pine: The Story of a Lost Mine Page 5
