by Anonymous
CHAPTER III
THE MESCALERO VALLEY
It had been our intention to take off the bear's hide and carry it homewith us, but we found that he was such a shabby old specimen that theskin was not worth the carriage, so, after cutting out his claws astrophies, we went on to inspect our sheep. Here again we found that "thegame was not worth the candle," as the saying is, for the bear had tornthe carcass so badly as to render it useless, while the horns, which ata distance and seen against the sky-line, had looked so imposing, provedto be too much chipped and broken to be any good.
My rifle we found lying beside the bear, it also having slid down theice-slope when I dropped it.
"Well, Frank," remarked my companion, "our hunt so far doesn't seem tohave had much result--unless you count the experience as something."
"Which I most decidedly do," I interjected.
"You are right enough there," replied Dick; "there's no gainsaying that.Well, what I was going to say was that the day is early yet, and if youlike there is still time for us to go off and have a try for a deer. Ishould like to take home something to show for our day's work."
"Very well," said I. "Which way should we take? There are no deer uphere among the rocks, I suppose."
"Why, I propose that we go up over this ridge here and try the countryto the southwest. I've never been down there myself, having always up tothe present hunted to the north and east of camp; but I've often thoughtof trying it: it is a likely-looking country, quite different from thaton the Mosby side of the divide: high mesa land cut up by deep canons.What do you say?"
"Anything you like," I answered. "It is all new to me, and one directionis as good as another."
"Very well, then, let us get up over the ridge at once and make astart."
Having discovered a place easier of ascent than those by which we hadfirst tried to climb up, we soon found ourselves on top of the ridge,whence we could look out over the country we were intending to explore.
It was plain at a glance that the two sides of the divide were verydifferent. Behind us, to the north, rose Mescalero Mountain, bare,rugged and seamed with strips of snow. From this mountain, as from acenter, there radiated in all directions great spurs, like fingersspread out, on one of which we were then standing. Looking southward, wecould see that our spur continued for many miles in the form of a chainof round-topped mountains, well covered with timber, the elevation ofwhich diminished pretty regularly the further they receded from theparent stem. On the left hand side of this chain--the eastern, or Mosbyside--the country was very rough and broken: from where we stood wecould see nothing but the tops of mountains, some sharp and rugged, someround and tree-covered, seemingly massed together without order orregularity. But to the south and southwest it was very different. Herethe land lying embraced between two of the spurs was spread out like agreat fan-shaped park, which, though it sloped away pretty sharply, wasfairly smooth, except where several dark lines indicated the presence ofcanons of unknown depth. The whole stretch, as far as we coulddistinguish, was pretty well covered with timber, though occasional openspaces showed here and there, some of two or three acres and some oftwo or three square miles in extent.
"Just the country for black-tail," said Dick, "especially at this timeof year--the beginning of winter. For, you see, it lies very much loweron the average than the Mosby side, and the snow consequently will notcome so early nor stay so late. It ought to be a great hunting-ground."
"It is a curious thing to find an open stretch like that in the midst ofthe mountains," said I. "What is it called?"
"The Mescalero valley. The professor says it was once an arm of thesea--and it looks like it, doesn't it? Over on the Mosby side the rocksare all granite and porphyry, tilted up at all sorts of angles; but downthere it is sandstone and limestone, lying flat--a sure sign that it wasonce the bottom of a sea."
"Is the valley inhabited?" I asked.
"Down at the southern end, about fifty miles away, there is a Mexicansettlement, at the foot of those twin peaks you see down there standingall alone in the midst of the valley--the Dos Hermanos: Two Brothers,they are called--but up at this end there are no inhabitants, Ibelieve."
"Well, there will be some day, I expect," said I. "It ought to be afine situation for a saw-mill, for instance."
"I don't know about that. There would be no way of getting your productto market. Old Jeff Andrews, the founder of Mosby, told me about itonce--he's been across it two or three times--and he says that thecountry is so slashed with canons that a wheeled vehicle couldn't travelacross it, and consequently the expense of road-making would amount toabout as much as the value of the timber."
"I see. And, of course, the streams are much too shallow to float outthe logs. Well, let us get along down."
"All right. By the way, before we start, there was one thing I wanted tosay:--If we should happen to get separated, all you have to do is toturn your face eastward, climb up over the Mosby Ridge, and you'll findyourself on our own creek, either above or below the town. It's veryplain; you can hardly lose yourself--by daylight at any rate. So, now,let's be off."
The climb down on this side we found to be very much steeper than theclimb up on the other had been. We dropped, by Dick's guess, aboutthree thousand feet in the three miles we traversed ere we foundourselves in the midst of the thick timber, walking on comparativelylevel ground. Keeping along the eastern side of the valley, in theneighborhood of the Mosby Ridge, we made our way forward, steering bythe sun--for the trees were so thick we could see but a short distanceahead--when we came upon one of the little open spaces I have mentioned.We were just about to walk out from among the trees, when my companion,with a sudden, "Pst!" stepped behind a tree-trunk and went down on oneknee. Without knowing the reason for this move, I did the same, and onmy making a motion with my eyebrows, as much as to say, "What's up?"Dick whispered:
"Do you see that white patch on the other side of the clearing? Anantelope with its back to us. I'll try to draw him over here, so thatyou may get a shot."
So saying, Dick took out a red cotton handkerchief, poked the corner ofit into the muzzle of his rifle, and standing erect behind his tree,held out his flag at right angles.
At first the antelope took no notice, but presently, catching a glimpseof the strange object out of the corner of his eye, he whirled roundand stood for a moment facing us with his head held high. A slight puffof wind fluttered the handkerchief; the antelope started as though torun; but finding himself unhurt, his curiosity got the better of hisfears, and he came trotting straight across the clearing in order to geta closer view. At about a hundred yards distance he stopped, his bodyturned broadside to us, all ready to bolt at the shortest notice, whenDick whispered to me to shoot.
"IT WAS A SPLENDID CHANCE; NOBODY COULD ASK FOR A BETTERTARGET."]
It was a splendid chance; nobody could ask for a better target; but doyou think I could hold that rifle steady? Not a bit of it! Instead ofone sight, I could see half a dozen; and finding that the longer I aimedthe more I trembled, I at length pulled the trigger and chanced it.Where the bullet went I know not: somewhere southward; and so did theantelope, and at much the same pace, if I am any judge of speed.
"Never mind, old chap," said Dick, laughing. "That is liable to happento anybody. Most people get a touch of the buck-fever the first timethey try to shoot a wild animal. You'll probably find yourself all rightthe next chance you get."
"I'm afraid there's not likely to be a 'next chance,' is there?" Iasked. "Won't that shot scare all the deer out of the country?"
"I hardly think so: the deer are almost never disturbed down here; itisn't like the Mosby side, where the prospectors are tramping over thehills all the time."
"Don't they ever come down here, then?"
"No, never. There is a common saying, as you know, perhaps, that 'goldis where you find it'; meaning that it may be anywhere--one place is aslikely as another. But, all the same, the prospectors seem to think thechances are better amon
g the granite and porphyry rocks on the otherside, where the formation has been cracked and broken and heaved up onend by volcanic force. They never trouble to come down here, where anyone can see at a glance that the deposits have never been disturbedsince they were first laid down at the bottom of a great inlet of theocean."
"I see what you mean: and as nobody ever comes down here the deer arenot fidgety and suspicious as they would be if they were always beingdisturbed."
"That's it, exactly. They are so unused to the presence of human beingsthat I doubt if they would take any notice of your shot except to cocktheir ears and sniff at the breeze for a minute or two. Anyhow, we'll goahead and find out. Let us go across this clearing and see if thereisn't a spring on the other side. That antelope was drinking when wefirst saw him, if I'm not mistaken."
Sure enough, just before we entered the trees again, we came upon a poolof water around the softened rim of which were many tracks of animals.
"Hallo!" cried Dick. "Just look here! See the wolf tracks--any number ofthem. It must be a great wolf country as well as a great deercountry--in fact, because it is a great deer country. I shouldn't liketo be caught here in the winter with so many wolves about; they areunpleasant neighbors when food is scarce."
"Are they dangerous to a man with a gun?" I asked.
"Yes, they are. One wolf--or even two--doesn't matter much to a man witha breach-loading rifle; but when a dozen or twenty get after you, you'lldo well to go up a tree and stay there. A pack of hungry wolves is notrifle, I can tell you."
"Have you ever had any experience with them yourself?"
"I did once, and a mighty distressing one it was, though it didn't hurtme, personally. I was out hunting with my dog, Blucher, a littleshort-legged, long-bodied fellow of no particular breed, and was upamong the tall timber east of the house, going along suspecting nothing,when Blucher, all of a sudden, began to whine and crowd against my legs.I looked back, and there I saw six big timber-wolves slipping down ahill about a quarter of a mile behind me. They stopped when I stopped,but as soon as I moved, on they came again--it was very uncomfortable,especially when two of them vanished among the trees, and I couldn'ttell whether they might not be running to get round the other side ofme. I went on up the next rise, the wolves keeping about the samedistance behind me, and as soon as we were out of their sight, Blucherand I ran for it. But it was no use: the wolves had taken the sameopportunity, and when I looked back again, there they were, all six ofthem, not a hundred yards behind this time.
"It began to look serious; for though it was possible that they wereafter Blucher, and not after me at all, I couldn't be sure of that. So,first picking out a tree to go up in case of necessity, I knelt downand fired into the bunch, getting one. I had hoped that the others wouldturn and run, but the shot seemed to have a directly opposite effect:the remaining five wolves came charging straight at me.
"I gave the dog one kick and yelled at him to 'Go home!'--it was all Icould do--dropped my rifle, jumped for a branch, and was out of reachwhen the wolves rushed past in pursuit of Blucher.
"Poor little beast! Though he was a mongrel with no pretence at apedigree, he was a good hunting dog and a faithful friend. But whatchance had he in a race with five long-legged, half-starvedtimber-wolves? It happened out of my sight, I am glad to say; all Iheard was one yelp, followed by an angry snarling, and then all wassilent again."
Dick paused for a moment, his face looking very grim for a boy, and thencontinued: "I've hated the sight and the sound of wolves ever since. Ofcourse, I know they were only following their nature, but--I can't helpit--I hate a wolf, and that's all there is to it."
"I don't wonder," said I. "Any one----"
"Hark!" cried Dick, clapping his hand on my arm. "Did you hear that?Listen!"
We stood silent for a moment, and then, far off in the direction fromwhich we had come, I heard a curious whimpering sound, the nature ofwhich I could not understand.
"What is it?" I whispered, involuntarily sinking my voice.
"Wolves--hunting."
"Hunting what?"
"I don't know; but we'll move away from here, anyhow. Come on."
Dick's manner, more than his words, made me feel a little uneasy and Ifollowed him very willingly as he set off at a smart walk through thetimber.
"You don't suppose they are hunting us, Dick, do you?" I asked, as westrode along side by side.
"I can't tell yet. It seems hardly likely--in daylight, and at this timeof year. I could understand it if it were winter. If they are huntingus, it is probably because they, like the deer, are unacquainted withmen, and never having been shot at, they don't know what danger they arerunning into. Still, I feel a little suspicious that it is our trailthey are following. They are coming down right on the line we took, atany rate. We shall be able to decide, though, in a minute or two. Lookahead. Do you see how the trees are thinning out? We are coming toanother open space, a big one, I think; I noticed it when we were up onthe ridge just now."
"What good will that do us?" I asked.
"We shall be able to get a sight of them. Come on. I'll show you."
True enough, we presently stepped out from among the trees again andfound ourselves on the edge of another open, grassy space, very muchlarger than the last one. It was about three hundred yards across to theother side, and a mile in length from east to west. We had struck itabout midway of its east-and-west length. Out into the open Dick walkedsome twenty yards, and there stopped once more to listen.
We had not long to wait. The eager whimper came again, much nearer, andnow and then a quavering howl. I did not like the sound at all. I lookedat Dick, who was standing "facing the music" and frowning thoughtfully.
"Well, Dick!" I exclaimed, getting impatient.
"I think they are after us," said he.
"And what do you mean to do? Not stay out here in the open, I suppose."
"Not we; at least, not for more than five minutes. Look here, Frank,"he went on, speaking quickly. "I'll tell you what I propose to do. We'llkeep out here in the open, about this distance from the trees, and makestraight eastward for the Mosby Ridge; it is only half a mile or so tothe woods at that end of the clearing and we can make it in fiveminutes. Then, if the wolves are truly hunting us, they will follow ourtrail out into the open, when we shall get a sight of them and be ableto count them. If they are only three or four we can handle them allright, but if there is a big pack of them we shall have to take to atree. Give me your rifle to carry--my breathing machinery is better usedto it than yours--and we'll make a run for it."
It was only a short half-mile we had to run--quite enough for me,though--and under the first tree we came to, Dick stopped.
"This will do," said he, handing back my rifle. "We'll wait here now andwatch. Hark! They're getting pretty close. Hallo! Hallo! Why, lookthere, Frank!"
That Dick should thus exclaim was not to be wondered at, for out fromthe trees, scarce a hundred paces from us, there came, not the wolves,but a man! And such an odd-looking man, riding on such an odd-lookingsteed!
"What is he riding on, Dick?" I asked. "A mule?"
"No; a burro--a jack--a donkey; a big one, too; and it need be, for heis a tremendous fellow. Did you ever see such a chest?"
"Is he an Indian?"
"No; a Mexican. An Indian wouldn't deign to ride a burro. I understandit all now. The wolves are not hunting us at all: they are after thedonkey. And the man is aware of it, too: see how he keeps lookingbehind. What is that thing he is carrying in his left hand? A bow?"
"Yes; a bow. And a quiver of arrows over his shoulder."
"So he has! He doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry, does he? Evidentlyhe is not much afraid of the wolves. Why, he's stopping to wait forthem! He's a plucky fellow. Why, Frank, just look! Did you ever see sucha queer-looking specimen?"
This exclamation was drawn from my companion involuntarily when theMexican, checking his donkey, sprang to the ground. He certainly was aqueer-looking specimen. If
he had looked like a giant on donkey-back, helooked like a dwarf on foot; for, though his head was big and his bodyhuge, his legs were so short that he appeared to be scarce five feethigh; while his muscular arms were of such length that he could touchhis knees without stooping.
To add to his strange appearance, the man was clad in a long, sleevelesscoat made of deer-skin, with the hairy side out.
We had hardly had time to take in all these peculiarities when Dick oncemore exclaimed:
"Ah! Here they come! One, two, three--only five of them after all."
As he spoke, the wolves came loping out from among the trees; but themoment they struck our cross-trail the suspicious, wary creatures allstopped with one accord, puzzled by coming upon a scent they had notexpected.
This was the Mexican's opportunity. Raising his long left arm, he drewan arrow to its head and let fly.
I thought he had missed, for I saw the arrow strike the ground and knockup a little puff of dust. But I was mistaken. One of the wolves gave ayelp, ran back a few steps, fell down, got up again and ran another fewsteps, fell again, and this time lay motionless. The arrow had goneright through him!
Almost at the same instant Dick raised his rifle and fired. The shotwas electrical. One of the wolves fell, when the remaining threeinstantly turned tail and ran.
But not only did the wolves run: the Mexican, casting one glance in ourdirection, sprang upon his donkey and away he went, at a pace that wassurprising considering the respective sizes of man and beast.
It was in vain that Dick ran out from under our tree and shouted afterhim something in Spanish. I could distinguish the word, _amigos_, two orthree times repeated, but the man took no notice. Perhaps he did notbelieve in friendships so suddenly declared. At any rate, he neitherlooked back nor slackened his pace, and in a minute or less he and hisfaithful steed vanished into the timber on the south side of theclearing.
The whole incident had not occupied five minutes; but for the presenceof the two dead wolves one would have been tempted to believe it hadnever happened at all--solitude and silence reigned once more.
"Well, wasn't that a queer thing!" cried Dick.
"It certainly was," I replied. "I wonder who the man is. Anyhow, he'snot coming back, so let's go and pick up his arrow."
