CHAPTER III.
THE MYSTERY OF THE SMOKING RUIN. STALKING A WARRIOR. THE AMBUSH
Now we were past the most dangerous part of our journey, leaving theComanche country and entering the domain of the Ute Indians and othertribes, who were not as brave as the Arapahoes and Comanches. Here ourcaravan-formation was broken up and each outfit traveled separately atits own risk.
The next day we witnessed a most horrible and distressing sight.Willingly would I surrender several years of my allotted lifetime onearth if I could thereby efface forever the awful impression of thispitiful tragedy from my memory. Alas I that I was fated to behold theshocking sight! For days thereafter we plodded on, a sad-looking,sober, downhearted lot of men, grieved to distraction, and there I leftthe innocence of boyhood--wiser surely, but not better! We neared thestill smoking ruins of what had once been a happy home. As I approachedto gratify my curiosity, I met several of my companions, who werereturning and who implored me not to go nearer. An old Mexican,ignorant, rough, and callous as he was, begged me, with tears streamingdown his face, to retrace my steps. Alas, when would impulsive youthever listen to wise counsel and take heed! I entered the ruins and sawa dark telltale pool oozing forth from under the door of a cellar. Oh,had I but then overcome my morbid curiosity and fled! But no! I mustneeds open the door and look in. I saw--I saw a beautiful whiskeybarrel, its belly bursted and its head stove in!
The trip across the plains was a very healthful and pleasant experienceto me. During the greatest heat and while the moon favored us, we oftentraveled at night and rested in daytime. By foregoing my rest, I foundopportunity to hunt antelope and smaller game. I was very fond of thissport and indulged in it frequently. One day I sighted a band ofantelope--these most beautiful and graceful animals. I tried to headthem off, in order to get within rifle-shot distance, and driftedfarther and farther away from camp until I must have strayed at leastfive miles. Like a rebounding rubber ball, their four feet striking theground simultaneously, they fled until at last they faded from sight onthe horizon, engulfed in a shimmering wave of heat, the reflection froma sun-scorched ground. Reluctantly I gave up the chase, as I could byno means approach the game, although they could not have winded me.
In order to determine the direction of our camp, I ascended a littlehill, when I suddenly espied an Indian. He was in a sitting posture,less than a quarter of a mile away. Apparently he was stark naked andhis face was turned away from me, for I saw his broad back where notcovered by his long hair glisten in the hot rays of the sun. His gunwas lying within reach of his right hand, but I could not see what hewas doing. On the impulse of the moment I dropped behind a floweringcactus for concealment. Then I took counsel with myself and decidedthat it would be too risky to return to camp as I had intended to do.In that direction for a long distance the ground was gently rising andmost likely the Indian would have seen me. I thought it probable thathe had staked his horse out in some nearby gulch, and if seen I wouldhave been at his mercy, as perhaps he was also in touch with otherIndians of his tribe. I reasoned that I could not afford to make themistake of incurring the risk to stake my life on the chance ofescaping his observation. I had started out to hunt antelopes, but nowI coolly prepared myself to stalk an Indian warrior instead. I wentabout it as if I were hunting a coyote. First of all, I ascertained thedirection of the wind, which was very light. It blew from the quarterthe Indian was in toward me. Next, lying on my stomach, I dug the largeflowering plant up, and holding it by its roots in front of myself, Icrawled toward my quarry, as a snake in the grass. Cautiously,stealthily, avoiding the slightest noise, and always on the lookout forsnakes and thorns, I crept slowly on, making frequent halts to restmyself. Twice the Indian turned his head and looked in my direction,but apparently he did not perceive me. In this manner I came withineasy gunshot distance. Now I took my last rest, and with my knife dug ahole in the ground and replanted my cactus shield firmly. Then I placedmy rifle in position to fire and drew a fine bead on the nape of hisneck.
"Adios, Indian brave, prepare thy soul to meet the great Spirit in theever grassy meadows of the happy hunting grounds of eternity, for thespider of thy fate is weaving the last thread in the web of thy doom!"My finger was coaxing the trigger, when a feeling of intense shame rosefiercely in my breast. Was I, then, like unto this Indian, to take anenemy's life from ambush? Up I jumped with a challenging shout, my gunleveled, ready for the fight. "Por Dios, amigo, amigo!" cried thefrightened Indian, holding up his hands. "No tengo dinero!" (I have nomoney. Don't shoot!) he begged, speaking to me in Spanish. Then I wentto him and learned that he belonged to a wagon train, traveling justahead of us. He was a full-blood Navajo, who had been made captive in aMexican raid into the Navajo country. The Mexicans used to capture manyNavajo pappooses and bring them up as bond servants or peons. ThisIndian told me that he had been following the same band of antelopes asmyself, and on passing a beautiful hill of red ants, he yielded totemptation and thought he would have his clothes examined and launderedby the ants. These little insects are really very accommodating andwork without remuneration. At the same time he likewise took a sun bathon the same liberal terms. This episode made me famous with everySpanish freighter over the Santa Fe trail, from Kansas into New Mexico.
Just before we reached the Cimarron country, which is very hilly and isdrained by the Red River, and where we were out of all danger fromIndians, I had a narrow escape from death. I was in the lead of ourtrain and had crossed a muddy place in the road. I drove on withoutnoticing that I was leaving the other teams far behind. A wagon stuckfast in the mire, which caused my companions a great deal of labor andmuch delay. At last I halted to await the coming of the other teams.Suddenly there fell a shot from the dense growth of a wild sunflowercopse. It missed my head by a very close margin and just grazed the earof one of the mules. I believe that if I had attempted to rejoin thetrain then I would have been killed from ambush. Instead, I quicklysecured the brake of my wagon, then I unhooked the trace chains of themules and quieted them and lay down under the wagon, ready to defendmyself. I was, however, not further molested and my companions camealong after a while. They had heard the shot and thought it was I whohad fired it.
Tales of Aztlan; The Romance of a Hero of Our Late Spanish-American War, Incidents of Interest from the Life of a Western Pioneer and Other Tales Page 3
